Why Snow Is a Wonder to Southerners and How It Points Everyone to God

Why Snow Is a Wonder to Southerners and How It Points Everyone to God

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As a life-long Southerner, I know we have a reputation for going bonkers at the mere possibility of snow. With the weatherman’s first suggestion it might happen, it’s all anyone can talk about. Schools are pre-emptively closed, weather apps are continually refreshed, and bread and milk are pillaged from grocery store shelves. And, this is before temperatures plummet or snowflakes begin to fall.

The sad, sad truth for us wishful thinkers is predictions don’t necessarily translate to precipitation. We usually get little more than a big ol’ pile of disappointment. I remember when my son was a senior in high school; class was canceled due to threats of a wintry mix, but when the forecasted day came, all we got was a dreary, cold rain. Thankfully, my son and I did get to see a snowman. Frozen was playing in theaters, and Elsa, Anna, and Olaf turned our frowns upside down and convinced us to let go of our gloomy dispositions. Plus, how could I be disappointed when I had such a special date?

This sort of disappointment is hard for friends from the North or West to understand. Y’all have so much snow, you wonder what it would be like never to have to shovel your sidewalks in the winter or worry about snow tires.

Well, many a Southerner had their dreams come true a few weeks ago during a once-in-a-lifetime event when it snowed where it usually doesn’t – not only where I live in the heart of Georgia, but even in coastal South Carolina, Florida, and Alabama.

Snow at the beach? An incredible, breathtaking marvel!

It didn’t last long, of course, but it sure brought a lot of joy and invited plenty of childlike play. Even one of my 60-something friends made a life-size snowman – well, technically a snowwoman, bedazzled in pink – in her front yard.

That extraordinary weather event (and the snow in my backyard) got me thinking about why so many of my Southern neighbors and I get ridiculously excited when it happens. I don’t think it’s complicated, really. Snow is rare and beautiful and absolutely magical to us. And, when magic falls from the sky, how can we not marvel at the wonder of it all?

Too often, we take for granted sweet gifts from God. Ordinary things like honey from bees and syrup from trees. A rainbow. A caterpillar’s transformation. Snow.

No doubt, friends who receive heavy snowfall are not going to feel the same about winter’s icy precipitation. For you, snow is common, a burden to be managed. But for Southerners, snow is a rarity, like a long-lost friend knocking at your door. You know her well, you miss her so much, and you’re giddy with excitement when you know she’s coming for a visit.

Sipping from my favorite mug full of hot chocolate and a mountain of whipped cream, I was captivated by the view of my yard. For the longest while, all I could do was sit and stare — everything blanketed in white, a stillness and hush that invited worship of its Creator. Beyond its beauty, that snow was a stunning reminder of the goodness and glory of God.

Maybe I’m just some kind of nature weirdo, but I felt like God wanted me to pay attention to what the snow was trying to tell me.

In the midst of quiet, the Holy Spirit reminded me of how Scripture often uses snow as a metaphor for purity and renewal. Isaiah 1:18 (NIV) proclaims, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.” Snow seems to speak of grace that covers and transforms, of a fresh start that only God can provide.

It’s a beautiful picture of how He takes what is broken and makes it whole, clean, and new.

Snow slows life down in a way nothing else can. Roads close, routines pause, and the world quiets down. There’s an unspoken invitation to step away from busyness, to marvel at the Creator who rules over nature’s wonders. The air is sharper. Melting flakes sparkle like diamonds. And all of it reflects God’s glory.

Snow also invites play regardless of your age. I may not have joined a snowball fight, but I couldn’t resist packing snow into little balls. My social media feeds were full of snowmen and snow angels and snow cream. In Matthew 18:3 (NIV), Jesus says, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” When it snows, I notice Southerners – even grown-ups – recapturing childlike wonder. And, if God thinks becoming like a child is important, shouldn’t we?

We see that snowfall reflects God’s authority in passages like Job 37:6 (NIV) where we’re told, “He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth.’” The very existence of snowflakes, with their delicate patterns, speaks to a Creator who cares about every detail.

If He crafts something as fleeting as a snowflake with such care, how much more does He care for us, His children?

For Southerners (and maybe for all of us), snow can preach a sermon without a word being spoken. Its purity reminds us of God’s goodness and grace, its stillness calls us to worship and hear from Him, and its playfulness renews our childlike wonder. Like magic falling from the sky, snow whispers of a God who lavishes goodness on His creation, giving us moments that take our breath away and turn our hearts toward Him.

 

Listen to Robin’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast, available everywhere!

When Your Faith Wavers

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I love the excitement of a beginning — the kind where you set out on a path of a new job, a new adventure, or a new relationship. These are the moments that we capture on our mobile phones and post to Instagram.

But here’s the thing about exciting beginnings: unexpected challenges sometimes derail them. Somewhere along the way, your heart might get trampled and doubts creep in. You feel alone, bewildered, and you start questioning everything you had put your hopes in. (Those moments rarely make the highlight reels.)

Someone out there knows what I’m talking about. Someone knows what it’s like to experience doubt. Maybe you’re doubting yourself today.

Or maybe — just maybe — you’re doubting God.

If that’s you, you’re not alone.

Stop for a moment and consider the story in Matthew 28:16-20. In it, the disciples went to a mountain because the Risen Jesus had invited them there. Keep in mind, by this point, Jesus had already wrecked His own funeral  — in the best way possible. Jesus had proven Himself capable of conquering everything, even death.

And His friends had witnessed it all.

They had every reason to believe with their whole hearts. And this mountain moment with Jesus seemed like the perfect place for a victory party. In many ways, it was. “When they saw him, they worshipped him…” (Matthew 28:17 NIV).

But hold up. Here comes a startling detail in the same verse: “… but some doubted.”

Let that sink in for a moment. Jesus – alive, resurrected, standing before their very eyes – was right there with them. And still, some doubted.

They were at the threshold of their own greatest beginning – the moment they’d be sent to take the gospel to the ends of the earth — but their faith was super shaky.

The Greek verb Matthew used for “doubted” is distazo, which conveys a sense of wavering or uncertainty, not outright disbelief. Imagine the doubters saying, “Dude, I just don’t know. I am struggling to wrap my mind around this.”

Does that sound familiar? Maybe your doubt has looked like hesitation, like wavering. You believe in God, but you’ve had a hard time wrapping your mind around what He’s up to.

Friend, stay on the mountain with Jesus. Show up to worship Him anyway, even when your faith feels fragile.

To me, this detail in Matthew 28 affirms the authenticity of the Scripture. Matthew could have conveniently left out those three words – “but some doubted” – because they could have embarrassed his buddies. Yet he kept them in, because they were true. The fact is, some doubted.

Just because you struggle with doubt — no matter how deep that doubt goes — doesn’t mean that Jesus will leave you. He won’t. That’s not His style at all.

Jesus didn’t send the doubters packing. He didn’t abandon them. He didn’t rebuke them. Instead, Jesus offered reassurance to the whole crew:

“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20 NIV).

I need that reminder from Scripture; in my out-of-the-blue trials that threaten to derail my faith, I need to know that Jesus hasn’t abandoned me.

Instead of rebuking us for our doubts, Jesus reassures us, just as He reassured the disciples: “I am with you always.”

Jesus is with you in this – whatever your “this” is. He is with you to the end. He knows every heartbreak, every betrayal, every disappointment. And He won’t make you carry it by yourself. God didn’t bring you this far to leave you now. When your faith wavers, Jesus is standing with you. Always.

Struggling with a wavering faith? Check out Jennifer’s guided journal, Stuff I’d Only Tell God.

 

Listen to Jennifer’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts!

You Are the Mom God Made You to Be

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Join us in welcoming Trieste Vaillancourt, Editorial Director at DaySpring and the writer behind the devotional content in the new DaySpring Daily Devotional Bible for Moms! Keep reading for a special excerpt from her heartfelt introduction and selected sections of this meaningful Bible. You’ll be especially touched by Trieste’s words if you’re a mom of young children, but there are nuggets of wisdom and truth for all of us!

I wrote the devotional thoughts for the DaySpring Daily Devotional Bible for Moms over the better part of a year. And as you can imagine, spending so much time in intimate connection with God’s Word has changed me. I am more aware of His presence in my mothering. I am more thankful than ever that I’m not alone. I am humbled by His desire to come with me into the weeds of everyday life, and I find it easier to worship Him there. I am praying for you to experience the same and more.

“God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was very good!”
Genesis 1:31 NLT

I want you to know that God sees you as His beloved and beautiful daughter.

I want you to know, from the moment your alarm goes off in the morning to the moment your weary head hits the pillow at night, that God made you to thrive as a mom.

Motherhood, as wonderful as it is, can steal your sense of self-worth. That sometimes happens when you become responsible for little children who tend to take you and the peace and stability you give them for granted. You are an umbrella for them in a rainstorm of worldly influence, and they shelter under your protection. You are a voice of assurance in the face of young and budding courage. You are the hand holder, the healer, the hug that means the most. Your deep love for them fuels their sense of adventure and their understanding of just how much they are loved by the Creator of the universe.

Motherhood is a gift — one that would deplete our physical, emotional, and spiritual resources every day if it weren’t for God’s willingness to fill us up as we pour out what we have. Knowing how much we need Him, God invites us to shelter under His protection, find reassurance in His voice, and be loved by His generous heart. And He invites us into His Word.

I imagine that, like me, you could use a reminder of how much you mean to your family. You might appreciate knowing that the Lord knows you personally and cares about you deeply. You would benefit from hearing the truth of how you, a devoted mother and follower of Jesus, are making an indelible and eternal mark not only on your children but also on history.

But there are plenty of things in our daily lives that can make us feel like we’re not measuring up. Maybe it was as simple as getting all the clean laundry folded. Perhaps you resolved to play with your kids more or refine your meal plan. No matter your goal, you might be the only one who sees the way you fell short of your own expectations. But you still beat yourself up for not accomplishing what you set out to do.

Motherhood is not a series of accomplishments, and its success is not measured by the checks on our to-do lists. Our heavenly Father wants us to know that He made us and considers us very good whether the laundry gets folded or not.

Being one of God’s very good creations is not something that can be checked off a to-do list. We can’t just make it happen any more than we can make toddlers eat their Brussels sprouts or teens clean their rooms. Instead, the Bible tells us that God made us in His image and blessed us (Genesis 1:27-28). This means that we are important and loved before we ever do one single thing.

As mothers, we tend to beat ourselves up because we don’t feel like we measure up. But for every shortcoming, God’s grace is sufficient. Every time we pray, “Help me, God! I can’t, but You can,” God leaps to the call and gives us just what we need. Genesis 1–2 reminds us that God made everything, including and especially us; and when He looks at us, He sees something very good. God cares about the things we care about — our unfolded laundry, our meal plans, our children’s futures — but He doesn’t expect us to make it all happen on our own.

So admit your weakness and who you are as God’s good creation, and let God show you the amazing things He can do in and through you!

You were handcrafted and handpicked for this family, for this season, for this life, and God says this is “very good!”

Lord,
Whatever my goals are for today, I trust that You want me to thrive. Remind me that You made me and called me good before I even did anything. Help me to model this truth for my children. Thank you for creating all of us.
Amen.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you discover more about your value in His eyes through the daily devotions and profiles of women and moms highlighted in this Bible and — even more importantly — throughout His Word.

You are loved. You are seen. You are not alone. You are the mom God made you to be.

We love this new DaySpring Daily Devotional Bible for Moms! This clear and accurate NLT edition includes 365 encouraging devotions created specifically for moms, 31 profiles of biblical women to encourage you, daily prayer prompts to remind you of God’s presence, wide margins for journaling and reflection, and a full-color interior design to enjoy as you read the Bible in a year.

This Daily Devotional Bible for Moms was created with busy moms like you in mind ― real moms with real life joys and challenges. You’ll be encouraged with daily reminders that God sees you, loves you, delights in you, and is with you always.

Pick up your copy today, and jump into our GIVEAWAY! Yep, we’re super excited to give away FIVE Daily Devotional Bibles for Moms right here. Just leave a comment, and you’ll be entered to win*.

For solo moments of bite-sized, consistent, truthful encouragement, the DaySpring Daily Devotional Bible for Moms is just the ticket. We know you’ll love it.

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 2/23/25.

How I Knew It Was Time to Quit My Job

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As a physical therapist for almost 15 years, I have lived through so many changes in healthcare systems and management. But none as drastic as the pandemic in 2020. It was a bad year for all of us, and for those in the medical community, it was especially difficult. The strength of every healthcare worker is flexibility — we will adapt and perform whatever is needed to provide for our patients. But in 2020, the changes were constant. There was no time to process our grief and our own anxiety. Through the instability of the pandemic, we were stripped of choices and of any sense of personal control at a time when we needed it most.

The world labeled us “essential” and the media called us “heroes,” but we were ordinary humans who were worried we would get sick and bring the virus home. For many, our flexibility had reached its limit. We felt like we were going to break — and the flexibility demanded of us was not extended to us when we needed it. It was during this time that, for the first time ever, I struggled to like my job.

I even began to regret going into physical therapy. But I had invested too much time and money to earn my doctorate — I couldn’t walk away. I felt stuck.

As the years went on, the impact of the pandemic still remained within the hospital systems and demanded much from healthcare workers. I tried to be joyful and patient, but I was slowly drifting into burnout with all the changes in systems and leadership. My frustrations over small and big things left me with a deep sense of hopelessness because there were no answers. I couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. By the time I would get home from work, I was impatient, irritable, and too exhausted to do much with my family.

I realized that I was waiting and waiting for things to change, but things were changing me.

I loved my patients. I was great at what I did. My co-workers were like family. I had an eight-minute commute to work. But this job was killing my peace and I had to fight for joy every day. I knew God was making me uncomfortable and it was time to leave my full-time job.

When I put in my resignation, one of my leaders called me into her office. With tears in her eyes, she offered to work with me and offered fewer hours to help me heal from burnout. I was so grateful for her love in that moment, but I knew I still had to leave.

I told her, “I am a Christian, so I believe what the Bible says: A tree is known by its fruits. And recently the fruit I have been bearing is bitterness, resentment, grief, and anger…and that is not what I want to be known for. So, I think I need to be planted in new soil.”

“So, every healthy tree bears good fruit…”
Matthew 7:17 ESV

But how do you know if a tree is healthy? It’s hard to determine exactly when a tree goes from good to bad because it can take years and years for a tree to fully die.  Scientists verify the health of a tree by monitoring and testing the sap that flows within the trunk, from the roots to the leaves. If the soil no longer has enough moisture to nourish the tree, the roots run out of water and the whole tree will begin to feel the effects. At first, the tree will use the stored-up water within its internal system to survive, but actual growth is compromised and this overall stress on the tree can cause them to be sick.

Like a tree going through a drought, my first response was to make every effort to produce joy, kindness, and patience by drawing on my reserves. But there is only so much strength in me to do the work that only the Spirit can do. From the outside, no one could tell that my soul was worn and my body was getting sick from living in constant stress.

In His grace, God taught me to pay attention to the soil of my heart. If a tree is planted in good soil, then it will organically grow and be fruitful.

So many of us focus on producing fruit — but that is not our responsibility; it is the work of the Spirit in us. The Christian life is not about trying harder, but about digging deeper.

Our responsibility is to be planted, to remain in good soil, and dig deep into the Source and Sustainer of life. Whether it is a job, a relationship, or a church, assess the soil. And when we recognize that our environment is unhealthy, the soil no longer has the nutrients we need to grow, and our fruit is not reflecting Jesus, it is time to be re-planted.

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.”
Jeremiah 17:7-8 ESV

I pray that you will trust God to plant you in good soil, where you will no longer toil to bear fruit because you are immersed in the Living Water.

 

Listen to Simi’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Keep Seeking, Keep Listening, Keep Following

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“The Lord is good and does what is right; He shows the proper path to those who go astray.”
Psalm 25:8 NLT

There are seasons when it feels like we’re all just stumbling in the dark, unsure where to step next. Uncertainty and weariness can creep in, raising questions about whether God is truly leading. Doubt whispers, Is God really guiding? Can He truly be trusted?

Take heart, sister. You’re not alone in these struggles. More importantly, God is never absent. He is with us, guiding us even when the way forward seems unclear.

Psalm 25:8 reminds us that the Lord is good. Not just sometimes. Not just when things go as planned. God is always good. His character is unwavering. His heart is kind. And He delights in leading His children.

This verse says God shows the proper path — not just to those who have it all together, but to those who go astray. To those who have wandered, doubted, or struggled to discern His voice. Isn’t that incredible?

God’s guidance is not reserved for the perfect. It’s extended to the lost, the searching, the unsure. To all of us.

So how do we keep seeking Him? How do we recognize His voice? By slowing down. Making space. Opening His Word and asking Him to speak. Quieting the noise of the world and tuning our hearts to His gentle whisper. And when He leads, we follow — not because the destination is always clear, but because we trust who He is.

Keep seeking, keep listening, keep following Jesus. Even if the road ahead feels uncertain, God is sure. He will never leave you. He will always lead you. And His path is always good.

Where in life do you need to trust God’s goodness today?

 

What Peach Trees Teach Us About Hope When All Hope Is Lost

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I once danced underneath a peach tree that was struck by lightning.

The peach tree had not borne fruit since, and I was told it would most likely not bear fruit again. I understood how this tree felt. There were so many things in my life that felt dead, unattended to, left dormant. But hope and faithfulness led me to paint another picture.  

In the depths of childhood one Appalachian summer, I sat under my Grandpa’s favorite peach tree. “Come with me,” he said. My grandfather was a land-rich man who knew the hills of West Virginia like the back of his hand. Seven generations deep, he had a way of helping things grow, a magic touch. (I later learned through observation that this “magic touch” was his diligence and consistency.) I turned to see him cutting one of the fruits fresh from a branch. “This didn’t happen overnight,” he explained gently. “It takes time.”

The nectar dripped over his weathered hand with the sweet victory of his diligence and faithful work. “Do you see this?” He gently lowered the only bare branch of the peach tree so it was at my eye level. “This isn’t dead, it can bear fruit again. Here, come and see.” He reached into his pocket for a knife, cutting sharply a branch from the core of the tree. It was still green. I was shocked and wondered why he would cut off something that was alive. It was then and there he taught me to cut back things that were alive (as well as things that were dead) often more than I felt comfortable with.  

Decades later, a restored farmhouse, nearly a century old, became a community home for artists that I would steward for over six years. Downtown Charlottesville was just a stone’s throw away from our neighborhood. To my surprise, a peach tree crowned our backyard. It had been struck by lightning years before, lush with leaves but void of fruit. It reminded me of those summers back home with my Grandpa. What would he do? I wondered.

Charred black from its scar, I knew how this peach tree felt. Unexpected devastation. How do you prepare to be struck bare? I observed and attended to its wounds like I did the wounds of my heart. Like the things I had been hoping for and dancing over for decades, though they had not yet come to pass. Of the things in my life that lie dormant, naked, bare . . . I wondered: Will they ever bear fruit again?   

Every season, I attended to the scarred tree, hoping it would bear fruit. Each summer, I was disappointed but remained hopeful. Approaching our final summer, my hope had waned thin. Had all those years counted for nothing? One morning, to my tearful surprise, the tree was covered in fruit. I cried and danced under the tree. The deep joy that accompanied struck me like lightning, itself.

When we are at our darkest and all hope seems lost, there is hope in the seeds we have faithfully sown. Is this not the hope of resurrection? It stood as a testament to me — that no matter what seeds you plant or how you tend to the garden of the soul or of a neighborhood, the toiling is not for nothing. You may not know if the fruit will come back after the pruning, but it matters to keep hoping. Even so, the fruit you do leave behind is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Seeing fruit on the peach tree reminded me to keep showing up, no matter the loss, the shift, or the pain. I learned to figuratively — and literally — keep dancing underneath the peach tree in gratitude because you never know what healing is happening underneath the surface. Turns out, the fruit of my labor was not for me, as we were moving out of the community home for artists that summer. It would be left for whoever was to come.

I did harvest one bushel of peaches, taking them with me to make my favorite pie. You may or may not experience the fruit of your labor, but know this: Generations beyond will see the fruit of your faithfulness. They will, in gratitude, dance under the tree that was once scarred, strengthened by your faithfulness to endure.

The Comfort of God Given Through Community

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Life has been a whirlwind. 2024 was just plain hard in SO many ways. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. If it wasn’t that thing, it was another thing. And at some point, everything just came crashing down on top of me. From hurricanes to wildfires, to finances to friendships. From impending decisions to health setbacks. Everything has felt hard.

In the sea of all the things, I’ve felt as though I was drowning. I haven’t seen a way forward. I’ve been unable to catch my breath or keep my head above water.

Over the last few months, a deep sadness has set in, wrapped in an even deeper sense of anxiety. Hope has seemed out of reach and joy, a faint memory.

My go-to response in seasons like this is to keep my struggles to myself and power through as if nothing was wrong. I dig my heels into denial and wait for everything to play out. A lot of my prayers are me asking God, “Why? Why this? Why again?” I often imagine He gets tired of hearing these questions from me, but He doesn’t. I often believe He gets tired of me circling the same mountains, but He doesn’t. I often think He gets tired of my struggles and complaints, but He doesn’t. I often think He gets tired of my unbelief, but He doesn’t.

God doesn’t grow tired of us. He is well acquainted with our sorrows. Jesus is more than familiar with our every emotion. Many times, I assume that the community around me will feel the same way I imagine that God feels towards me. I think they’ll grow tired of hearing my questions, doubts, frustrations, fears, and worries. While some people may, those who are being led by the Holy Spirit won’t. The fruit of the Spirit will flow freely through their lives.

The Lord is graciously patient with me in this process of sanctification. I can be really slow to learn and grow. One of those ways I’ve been slow is to allow the Body of Christ to do what the Body is designed to do.

Galatians 6:2 reminds us that God created us to do life together. It is not good for us to be alone. He designed us to carry one another’s burdens. When we do, it actually fulfills the Word of God. We are to weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. This is one of the sweetest ways of what it looks like to carry each other’s burdens.

The past few months have been overwhelming, to say the least. I have been knocked down. I have been quite tempted to stay down. And I have partnered with some of the lies of the enemy.

But God.

Isn’t that always the case? But God. He wouldn’t let me stay in this pit for too long. His heart is always to rescue us and provide a way of escape. He won’t let the enemy get the best of us. He won’t even let us get the best of ourselves.

God knows what we need before we do. And He knows the best way to meet those needs. Those ways always bring Him glory and are always worked out for our good.

In the weeks surrounding Christmas and the New Year, I was hit with several horrendous migraines, debilitating back pain, overwhelming sadness, thoughts of hopelessness, and then sickness. My cough that I’ve had since November began to flare up along with a sore throat, sneezing, fatigue, etc… Needless to say, this was not how I envisioned 2024 ending and 2025 beginning.

I desperately wanted to hide in the pit that engulfed me. But the Holy Spirit challenged me to do the thing that doesn’t come easily, the thing that I didn’t want to do. He challenged me to let others into my pain and fear and discouragement.

It took almost everything inside of me to reach out, but I did.

The Holy Spirit highlighted particular people to send a voice message. Some of them are near and some are far. But each one was more than happy to help carry the burden of this season I’ve been in. Text messages and voice notes were sent with prayers and encouraging Scripture. I even found myself weeping in the arms of some beloved sisters who boldly prayed in the Spirit and declared Heaven’s promises and the Father’s heart over me.

They upheld my arms in this battle while I was too weak to do so.

It requires humility and courage to reach out when you’re lost and hurting and lonely. I know I wasn’t operating in my own strength. It was only the work of God’s grace in me. I am beyond grateful for His grace that sustains me and leads me and conforms me to the image of Christ.

Know that His grace is at work within you as well. It doesn’t mean that your obstacles will disappear overnight, but God’s grace is guaranteed to be more than sufficient to carry you in the midst of your battles.

The ushering in of the new year did bring some refreshing and hope. I am not fully out of this pit, but the Lord is shepherding me through as only He can.

He who began a good work within us is faithful to complete it. God’s faithfulness encourages us through His Spirit and His Body.

If you find yourself in a hard season, and in need of the comfort of God through His Body, I’d love to pray for you!

 

Listen to Karina’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast wherever you stream!

Your Golden Gift for Getting Through Life

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On a chilly evening not too long ago, I hopped into my car and headed east to attend a dinner at my friend Tatiana’s house. While driving, I passed my husband, David, as he returned home from work. Other than that drive-by encounter, it was an uneventful trip to the opposite side of town.

After filling up on top-notch food and friendship, I drove back home. When I arrived, my husband met me in the garage — something he routinely does. Opening my car door, I noticed that the long, white sweater I wore, also called a duster, had been caught in the door.

I grabbed the duster and said, “Ohhh, I drove the whole way home with this in the car door!”, inspecting the duster for dirt or damage.

“Oh yeah…when I passed you, I noticed it hanging out of the car then too,” my husband replied.

I looked up at him as I exited the car. “It was? It was actually hanging outside the car door?!?”

Shutting the car door behind me, he responded, “Yep.”

I pulled out my phone, wondering if I’d missed a message from him letting me know about my duster difficulties. Seeing no message, I said with no small amount of incredulity, “So, you saw my duster hanging out of my car, and you didn’t text me to let me know? I have Bluetooth and could’ve received the message without looking at my phone.”

As breezy as a spring morning, David said, “Well, it wasn’t hitting the ground, so I didn’t worry about it.”

Insert imaginary cricket sounds as I blink, blinked at him.

Now, in my man’s defense, he has a million strengths and takes care of me in a million ways. But helping me avoid a fashion faux pas ain’t necessarily one of them.

This I do know: If a friend had seen me instead of my husband, there’s no way she would’ve let me traverse the entire city looking like a dingaling with my duster flapping in the wind. If you notice a friend with her sweater hanging out of her car or mascara under her eyes or toilet paper trailing out of her skirt, you wouldn’t let her fly down the real or proverbial highway completely oblivious. You would clue her in.

Friends clue friends into what is and isn’t as it should be — and they do so concerning topics a heckuva lot more important than wayward sweaters.

The other day, while sipping my chai latte, I shared with a friend my age how plumb exhausted I feel. She replied, “Well…that makes sense, Kristen. This is a hard time of life. Our kids are grown, but they’re still top of mind. Our parents are aging and ailing. A lot of our relationships are changing — as are our bodies’ hormone levels. In general, there’s a LOT going on.”

I didn’t realize till then how much I needed someone to shed some light on why I’m tired. I’m not a wimp; I’ve got a lot going on. I needed that friend to name what I hadn’t taken the time to name myself.

We all need friends who help us make sense of life — or confirm how parts of life won’t make sense this side of heaven.

While some of you agree, others may read this and think, Oh no, I don’t need friends. I’ve suffered terribly because of “friends.” Not only would they not let me know my sweater was hanging outside my car, but they’d laugh at me because of it. Or they’d set me up to fail in worse ways.

If that describes you today, I’m terribly sorry. I’ve been where you are, believing women aren’t worth the effort. But the Bible tells us something different.

Proverbs says a friend’s counsel is sweet (Proverbs 27:9) and plans made with many advisers will succeed (Proverbs 15:22). Expounding on this, the late Dr. Timothy Keller said the book of Proverbs makes it clear that you won’t be a wise person or make it in life unless you have friends.

But Dr. Keller leveled that up even more by saying, “The less you want friends, the less like Jesus you are.” 

Ouch. But…he’s right. Jesus walked this earth with friends. If He did, we need to do likewise. You and I aren’t the exception. No matter our age or stage of life, no matter how supposed “friends” have treated us in the past — we all need true friends.

If you have put friendship on the back burner because you’ve been burned in the past, take this as your nudge to reconsider. Whether your sweater hangs out of the car or, more importantly, you’re hanging on to life by a thread, you need a friend who will let you borrow her strength and perspective till you’re set right again.

You need a friend who God will use to speak His wisdom and direction to your very core.

While all of us go through painful times of loneliness, it isn’t God’s design for you or me to be alone forever. Keep trying for the friendships you need. It’s hard, I know. It can be a frustrating process. But you don’t need a hundred of them; only a couple of solid-gold folks with whom you can travel life’s depths. As you wait for what you long for, remember that Jesus, your Friend of all friends, is with you always.

If you’re in a season of loneliness, find encouragement in this beautiful devotional from Kirsten and other women who understand the friendship struggle.

 

Listen to Kristen’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts.

Recharging Your Spiritual Batteries

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It was only 20 degrees outside, so I pulled on my big coat before trudging out to my snow-covered car. My breath puffed out like cigarette smoke inside my vehicle as I reached to press the button to start the car. I had a lot to do that afternoon, but first, I was eager to feel the heat inside my frozen automotive cocoon.

When I pressed the ignition button, the dashboard lit up and the radio came on. But the car didn’t start. I tried again. Still, no start.  I’ve never met someone who hasn’t felt the sinking sensation of sitting in a car that won’t fire up. My battery was dead. Instant ugh. I looked at my passenger seat, filled with my plans for the day, and knew I wasn’t going anywhere until my battery was charged.

Those acid or lithium-filled rectangle boxes in our cars are metaphors for the spiritual part of who we are. Our spirits power our humanity. Even though we’re comprised of a physical body and mental capacity, our spirits power the essence of who we are. Our spirits hold our imaginations, our convictions, and our desires. Our spirits give us the ability to connect and love. God breathed His Spirit into us, as Paul the Apostle wrote when he quoted the Cretan philosopher, Epimenides, “For in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28 NIV).

At the time, Paul was in Athens, Greece, teaching the Grecians that their idols could not give or sustain life. Only God could! Yet, how quickly do we forget how God is the source of life and sustains our life? Let’s appreciate this reminder:

“The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Instead, he gives everyone life and breath and everything else.”
Acts 17: 24-25 NIV

Every breath we take is because God gives life to us. It’s mind-blowing when we think about it. While God sustains and maintains life, we often arrange our lives according to our agenda. So, it’s no wonder we attempt to run at a pace or carry excess weight beyond God’s plan. Too often, we’re too busy taking care of others or checking off our to-do list to notice our spiritual charge is running out or already completely drained.

Thankfully, there are clues that our batteries are draining, and there is a straightforward way to plug them in for a recharge.

Sitting in my cold car, I remembered an incident the week before when it took two tries to start my car. It was a brief incident, but I ignored that little flickering warning sign. Once my car started, I kept going and didn’t think about what that warning might mean.

There are flickering warning signs that our spiritual batteries are draining:

  • Complaining
  • Negative thoughts
  • No desire to pray
  • Scripture doesn’t sink in or convict
  • Sin doesn’t evoke sorrow
  • Absence from the life-giving Christian community

The good news is once we recognize those flickering warning signs, we can step toward a spiritual recharge instead of leaning into self-condemnation.

Prayer is our first step toward spiritual recharge. If God’s Spirit gives life to our mortal being, then prayer connects our spirit to God’s Spirit. 

After I sat in my car for a while, I finally called AAA. It took two hours for the truck to arrive. The serviceperson had a mega-powered battery with jumper cables that he hooked to my car battery. Within seconds, my car turned on.

That day, I thought about prayer like spiritual jumper cables. When you pray, you demonstrate a posture and desire to connect with the supernatural, all-powerful God. Prayer is a connector, but God’s Spirit holds your supply of life-transforming power. You can’t receive that power until you decide to connect.

What could spiritual recharge look like for you today? If you recognize that your spiritual batteries are drained, perhaps these words from Psalm 25 can be a recharging prayer for you today:

“O Lord, I give my life to you.
Show me the right path, O Lord;
    point out the road for me to follow.
Lead me by your truth and teach me,
    for you are the God who saves me.
    All day long I put my hope in you.”
Psalm 25:1, 4-5 NLT

I’d love to pray for you:

God, I pray for my friends who are feeling drained by life or circumstances. Thank You for being our source of life, strength, and hope. Renew my friend today as she connects to You. Renew her heart. Please renew her strength and hope in You. Amen.

Barb prays you experience the peace and hope of connecting with God in prayer today. She’s written a new six-week Bible study, Matthew: Pray Like This, a deep-dive study on experiencing transformative prayer and knowing the joy of praying like Jesus.

 

Listen to Barb’s devotion here or on your fave podcast app. 

We Are Invited to Feast with the Redeemer

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My favorite local restaurant in Central California where I live is a place called Heirloom, which showcases local, seasonal produce and creative dishes. I could eat there every day of the week and savor something different each time. One of their signature appetizers is called Loom bread, which is like a cross between flatbread and a croissant. My daughters and I love this light, buttery-flaky bread that melts in your mouth when served with warm Brie cheese and fig jam. (My mouth is watering just thinking about it.)

In Ruth 2:14-17, we read about the first meal that Ruth and Boaz share. Food plays an important role in bringing these two together. Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi left Moab because they were homeless, hungry, and without resources. All of the men in their family died back in Moab. These women had probably grown accustomed to hunger pangs. They traveled the distance because they heard there was a harvest in Bethlehem, which could mean more food — or at least some food — for these widows.

Boaz leans over to Ruth at lunch break and says, “Come over here, and help yourself to some food. You can dip your bread in the sour wine” (Ruth 2:14 NLT). I like to imagine Boaz inviting Ruth to the table to share a Loom bread and Brie appetizer. Or maybe it was closer to pita bread dipped in balsamic vinegar.

The passage tells us Ruth ate all she wanted. She savored every morsel of that bread. Imagine the contrast. Ruth came to the field of Boaz to glean — basically to gather up the scraps — but now she is being invited to the table with Boaz, the field owner, and his workers. Boaz offered her a portion of his own food. This would not be common for gleaners to be included this way. In fact, it probably wasn’t common for the landowner to come and eat among his own workers either. But Boaz was a different kind of boss.

For Ruth, this was probably top of her list for best meal ever. There are even leftovers, which Boaz later urges her to take home in a to-go box, along with the grain she has gathered. What a feast!

The English Standard Version says Ruth “ate until she was satisfied.” Ruth 2:18 emphasizes: “She also brought out and gave her what food she had left over after being satisfied.” The repetition of the word satisfied is important here. 

In Latin cultures, someone pushes back from the table after a big meal and says, “Estoy satisfecha” in Spanish to indicate they are full and satisfied. This is also a compliment to the host or cook. Ruth feasted on abundant food but also experienced abundant generosity.

In Ruth 2:15-17, she is invited to gather grain from the bundles the harvesters have already gathered. This goes above and beyond the scraps that were usually left for widows and the poor to glean. Then Ruth returned home to share this abundance with her mother-in-law Naomi, who is overjoyed by God’s surprising provision.

God gives generously out of His resources. After all, He doesn’t just own a barley and wheat field like Boaz. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Psalm 50:10). He feeds the birds and clothes the lilies of the field in fancy clothes (Matthew 6:25-34). God, through Boaz, provides abundantly for these two widows who have experienced hunger and emptiness. How much more does He provide for us!

In Philippians 4:19 (CSB), the apostle Paul deepens our understanding of God’s generosity in light of Jesus: “My God will supply all your needs according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.”

The book of Ruth serves as a testimony to Paul’s words. God can and will meet all our needs. In my own experience, He meets those needs in ways we might not ever imagine. God sacrificed His son Jesus as an embodiment of His lovingkindness.

The generosity of this meal provided by Boaz for Ruth is a preview of sorts that points to the many instances when Jesus invited outsiders to the table. He was known for dining with tax collectors, fishermen, and marginalized women, both Jews and Gentiles. He invited everyone to His table to feast on the grace served up by His Father.

David writes in Psalm 34:8 (NIV), “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.” These words are an invitation to experience God’s glory with all of our senses. We are to taste and see His goodness all around us. And true blessing from the Lord abounds — not just through food, but also through the feast of His presence. As Ruth experienced, God is our refuge and redeemer in all circumstances.

Whether you are headed to your favorite restaurant today, grabbing a snack at work, or sitting down at the table with your family and friends, savor this opportunity to thank God for His generosity and provision in your life. 

What is the most amazing meal you have ever savored? How did that meal give you a taste of God’s abundant provision?

The story of Ruth is usually viewed through a Hallmark-tinted lens: girl suffers hardship, girl overcomes hardship, boy meets girl, they fall in love, and then everyone lives happily ever after.

But there’s so much more to Ruth’s story!

In her new six-week Bible study, Redeemer: God’s Lovingkindness in the Book of Ruth, (in)courage contributor Dorina Lazo Gilmore-Young invites us to view the book of Ruth through a different lens—one that helps us recognize how this story proclaims God’s heart for the vulnerable, including widows, orphans, immigrants, refugees, and the poor. As Ruth’s story unfolds, we discover that God is the main character and that he is the true Redeemer, for Ruth and for us today.

Pick up your copy today, join Dorina for her beautiful video teachings, and enter to WIN a copy right here! We’re so excited to give away FIVE copies of this new study. Just leave a comment answering Dorina’s question above about the most amazing meal you’ve ever savored, and you’ll be entered to win*.

Then be sure to tune into the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a conversation with Dorina and Becky! Trust us, you do not want to miss this episode!

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 2/27/25.

 

What to Do When You Don’t Understand Why

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I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty, but I’m pretty sure my middle son’s first word was “Why?!” And certainly, if it wasn’t Elias’s very first word, it has been his most common.

Since he was a rosy-cheeked toddler, this child of mine has had an incessant need to know why. Why does that tree grow so tall and why is that rock so hard? Why do I have to go to bed, why are dinosaurs extinct, and why does that tool fix that thing? Why is broccoli good for me? Why do dogs run that way? Why are people homeless? Why is there war and drugs? Why did you say no and why won’t you answer all of my whys?

I can’t quantify the hours or energy I’ve spent over the last 14 years trying to satisfy his insatiable desire to understand the reasoning and working behind all the things. While curiosity is a wonderful thing to be nurtured and a very human instinct, there are many times I’ve also told my son, “I’m not going to explain the full why right now. You just need to trust that what I’m telling you or showing you or how I’m guiding you is enough for today.”

This is not what inquisitive toddlers or teenagers want to hear.

There are times I’ve squashed my kid’s questions because I’m just flat-out exhausted and I lost my patience somewhere between Costco, 87 emails, refereeing siblings, and my kitchen sink.

But many times, my redirecting comes from a place of care. As a loving parent, I recognize when it’s not appropriate or necessary for my son to know “why.” Sometimes the why is too complicated for his level of understanding. Sometimes it would be too heavy a burden to bear. Sometimes he needs to grow in patience or needs to be willing to wrestle in searching for the answer himself. Sometimes he’s a child who simply needs to trust that his parent is working for his ultimate safety, development, and wellbeing.

Oh, how like Elias we can be. Am I right?

We can come to our Heavenly Father and beg to know why. Why are You allowing this? Why do I have to wait for so long? Why don’t I see you working? Sometimes we call out from a place of joyful expectancy or innocent curiosity; other times we demand with impatient entitlement or because we’re desperate for control.

Lately, I’ve wanted to know why a teenage boy I know has cancer. Why a family member has to continually suffer. Why God’s rescue seems to tarry in a friend’s broken marriage. Why it feels like we’re all constantly taking two steps forward only for the floor to fall out under us, like we’re in my childhood game of Chutes and Ladders and suddenly we’re farther back than where we started.

I bet you have your own set of whys these days, too.

The thing that has made the biggest difference in my life is shifting from asking why to asking what. Instead of, “God, why is this happening?” I ask, “God, what do You want me to know about this?”

God is not obligated to explain His reasoning and strategy to His children, but in His kindness, He will always communicate His love and care for us.

So I ask: God, what do You want me to know about this unsettling situation?

God answers: I go before you and will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. (Deuteronomy 31:8)

I ask: God, what do You want me to know about the heaviness I feel?

God answers: I am close to the brokenhearted and I save those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)

I ask: God, what do you want me to know today about who You are? About who I am?

God answers: I am the Good Shepherd. You are my sheep. I call my sheep by name and they know my voice. I carry you close to my heart. (John 10:11, Ezekiel 34:31, John 10:3-4, Isaiah 40:11)

Asking God why can create a wedge of disappointment and confusion. Asking God what will always lead you closer to His heart.

As my son grows in maturity, he is learning to trust that his dad and I can see a bigger picture that is beyond his current understanding. He’s learning to trust that we’re guiding him for his good. We always welcome his questions and desire to have honest conversations together, but that doesn’t mean he’ll get the answer he wants to every why.

It’s a happy day when my children receive what I’m telling them, trust my heart, and follow my instructions.

Daily we have to remember that this is a picture of exactly how God feels about us.

We may not understand the whys or ways of God, but we can always trust His heart. Ask God what He wants you to know today. Then listen. Receive. Respond. Surely He is working for your good.

 

Listen to Becky’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Instead of Getting Angry and Defensive, Do This…

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“Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.”
Isaiah 12:2 NIV

My son and I fight a lot. It’s not easy to admit, but we see the world so differently. He is strong. I am not. He is outspoken. I am not. He is opinionated. I am opinionated. Since he came screaming out of me sixteen years ago, he’s been a fighter. After all this time, I’m weary.

In my weariness, I get defensive. I get angry. I want to demand my voice be heard. I want to make him see my point of view and why it’s right.

I tend to force things. I can be stubborn. I want what I want. I’ve spent a lot of my life “forcing” things. I’ve done this with jobs I wanted. I push and push and push because I’m afraid of not getting what I want. I’ve done this with things, opportunities, and people.

When I’m afraid, I force my way forward.

I’m reminded of so many figures in the Bible who forced things too. Sarah was afraid of not conceiving and forced her husband to sleep with her servant, Hagar. Moses used force, Judah used force, and Peter used force — all when they were faced with a fearful situation. But, when I react to my fear by forcing my way forward, I usually end up hurting myself or others.

Life doesn’t have to be a battle. We don’t have to fight to get ahead or fear falling behind. Instead, we can surrender. We can let go of life on our terms. As fear rises, we can refuse to put on our boxing gloves and instead lean on Jesus.

I usually deal with my fear by using my own strength. When I sense my soul tensing up for a fight, I’ve learned to listen to the invitation to relax. I can enter my fear with Jesus. Like a litany, I live these words: soul, be still.

Don’t force the doors of opportunity to open. Don’t force people to relate in ways that only work for you. Don’t push to get your way. Trust that the Lord is always present and will always lead you to love and be loved.

by Anjuli Paschall, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

Our book, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle, will take you on a journey of learning to see God clearer and to know Him deeper in the middle of your struggles. As you experience pain, move through daily challenges, or get bogged down by anxieties big or small, you’ll learn to find Him right in the middle of it, ready to strengthen you and give you rest. 

Stop Entertaining the Doubt and Step Out in Faith

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Shutting the car door with my foot, I threw my laundry bag over one shoulder and my computer bag over the other. I placed my makeup bag on top of the pizza box and headed towards my apartment building. Here are two words you could not use to describe me at this moment: wise and graceful.

I felt like a penguin waddling through the cold suburbs of Chicago. As I approached my apartment building, I passed an older woman who was carrying a box that was four times the size of her.

Relatable, I thought.

She said hello and trailed behind me as we both walked to the entrance. I held the door open and turned to let her pass through when I realized my mistake. She was piling all of her boxes on a bench next to the door, but wasn’t entering the building yet.

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled. “I should be getting the door for you.”

“No worries!” We both laughed and went our separate ways.

As I began walking up the stairs, my laundry bag slid down my arm. Just then, an urgent thought stole my attention. Go back and help her. Even still, I kept walking and moving away from the woman. The pizza box I was carrying tilted and I sucked in a deep breath as I tried to rebalance. Felicia, go back. My stomach growled with hunger. Help her. I stopped. I knew it was God. But I had more important things to do. Like eating BBQ chicken pizza and watching Netflix. Not to mention, putting all of this stuff down.

A picture flashed through my mind: I was standing in a kitchen — the roof had been ripped off and a heavy rain struck my face. The foundation was sinking. I cried out for help before a flood ripped through the doors and overtook me.

Then it clicked.

You know the story in the Bible about the wise and foolish builders? The one where a wise man builds his house with a foundation on rock. While the other man builds his house on the ground without a foundation? When a flood roars through the land, the house built on rock is not shaken, but the other house collapses. Right before Jesus shares this imagery, he says, “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words and puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like” (Luke 6:46-47 NIV).

Will I choose to obey? Will I listen to the Holy Spirit? Will I sacrifice my own conveniences in order to show the love of God to someone else? My pizza will still taste good if I eat it when it’s cold, right? Convicted, I turned around and wobbled downstairs.

“Hey!” I gave my friendliest smile, as the woman walked my way with more boxes. “Do you want help carrying those?”

 “Oh! That’s so kind. That’s so kind of you,” she repeated, like she couldn’t believe it.

“I’m happy to help,” I offered.

“These boxes are actually filled with things that I haven’t been able to sell. I’m leaving them here for now because I need to drive back to my condo to pick up a few more things. It’s just down the street. But I should be fine on my own. Thank you so much.”

“Of course! Are you just moving in?”

Tears welled up in her eyes. A brief moment of silence fell over the conversation. Then, she bravely lifted her head and told me, a complete stranger, “I’m getting a divorce.”

My heart broke for her.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “Grief is a weird thing. Some days are harder than others. And today was really hard.”

I looked at this stranger and felt so much compassion for her. I wanted to tell her how loved she is. How brave she is for being vulnerable. How safe it is to break down, to hurt, and to not hold it all together. How strong she is for still standing. How her story is still being written and how, oftentimes, the deepest beauty unfolds from our deepest pain.

“I’m so sorry. I just want to give you a hug. Is that okay?” I asked. 

She laughed and nodded. We embraced and I gave her the warmest hug I could.  

I remembered the urgent thought that had popped into my head earlier: Go back and help her. She didn’t need help carrying boxes. She needed help carrying the weight of her pain. She needed to feel the love of God.

We pulled apart from each other, exchanged names, and continued to chat. I smiled, thinking about how the Holy Spirit prompted me to act in faith. But it wasn’t about me. The world doesn’t need more kind people. I mean, sure, it would help. But what the world really needs is to know the kindness of God.

Next time you hear that small whisper from the Holy Spirit to act in obedience, move. Stop entertaining the doubt and step out in faith. I promise — witnessing God’s love settle over someone is a million times better than warm BBQ chicken pizza.

Even Here, There Will Be New Life

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I have an embarrassing confession to make. Today I discovered that I am, apparently, someone who will cry over a potted plant.

Last summer, I bought a plant. That’s a very normal sentence… unless you know me, and then it becomes a very strange sentence. Grocery store bouquets thrive in my apartment, but I’ve never had a green thumb for a garden, or even a single houseplant. There were a few on sale right next to the sunflowers and carnations though, and I decided to try my hand once again. It’ll probably end up like the last one, I told myself as I walked through the checkout line, but I’ll try my very best. Even if it only makes it for a month, I reasoned, it’s worth the cost to have a little more life in an empty, quiet space.

Days turned into weeks that became months, and in mid-October, I decided it was time to give the still-alive plant a name. For no reason other than absolute delight, I quickly landed on Shelly.

Have you ever heard of a plant named Shelly? No? Exactly.

Oh, it’s ridiculous. I know this. But every time I walk into the living room and say “Good morning, Shelly” or “Hi, Shelly, you’re looking great. Time for some water” there’s an instant increase in joy — and so Shelly it is.

Shelly has seen some things, though. She has leaves that are split in half and one that is cut straight through, like someone took a pair of scissors to the already-broken places. A couple of the leaves are bruised and a few have holes, perhaps the sign of pests that enjoyed a summer snack. I only noticed one or two broken leaves while in the store, but Saturday by Saturday I gently pulled the leaves back, discovered another bruise or cut, slowly poured water onto the soil, and wondered if the not-perfect places led to being placed in a weekday sale.

Time has ticked on and months have passed since the impromptu grocery store purchase. Tree leaves have burned bright and fallen down, only to be crunched beneath boots or blanketed by snow. Seasons have shifted outside the window, but Shelly seemed to be frozen in time. I don’t know when it happened, but eventually I stopped anticipating any change — positive or negative. She’s still here, bruised leaves and all, and considering my previous history of keeping plants alive, that was more than enough for me.

That is, until I burst into very real tears and immediately dropped onto the floor today, stunned by the unexpected sight of four brand-new baby leaves. Suddenly, after all this time, new life is poking through. There are tiny pistachio green shoots growing next to bruised and broken olive green leaves, and side by side they tell a story of struggle and survival that brought me to my knees.

There are several things in my life that have died over the last few years, and I’m sure you’d say the same. People, relationships, dreams, jobs, homes, health… the list can go on and on. We are a people who have walked through significant loss, both collectively and individually. It’s not only tempting to think “this is how it’ll always be,” but it’s understandable. I’m stretching the metaphor, but like Shelly, we’ve seen some things.

But then there she is on a winter morning, a visual several months in the making, serving as a gentle reminder from the God who is also a Gardener:

Even in the places where we feel broken and bruised, even when we feel cut open and like something is missing where it shouldn’t be, there is still room for new life. In those very places, hope can grow again.

Today, it feels like a glimpse of Isaiah 43. The promise of “See, I am doing a new thing!” in verse 18 is a comfort and a relief, but to me, the deeper hope is found in the stunning honesty of verse 19.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

God doesn’t wipe out the wilderness or the wasteland. Instead, He promises to wipe away all our tears (Revelation 21:4) and fill the barren places with new life. It’s not just good; it’s the impossible come true.

Hope doesn’t erase what was or minimize what happened. The fingerprints of loss might linger long, and the reality of a new normal may carry over from one season to the next for the rest of our days. But it’s there, like a promise slowly poking up through the soil, an unhurried whisper inviting us to lean in and take another look, a declaration buried deep and forever holding true: time takes time, but new life is always on the way.

If you’re navigating the wilderness, desperate for any sign of new life, pick up a copy of Kaitlyn’s book. Even If Not will help you shift from the suspicion that God isn’t kind or present to the truth found in Scripture: on every single page of the story, He is with us and working all things for good. Hope may feel risky right now, but He will walk us all the way Home.

Listen to today’s devotion here or on your fave podcast app!

How to Fix Your Eyes on Jesus When You Find Your Gaze Adrift

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I’ve worn glasses as far back as I can remember.

I don’t know if I can think of a time when I didn’t have glasses. Class photos place this life milestone around second grade. Unfortunately, my introduction to corrective lenses wasn’t a pleasant one. In the 80s, it was — in my humble opinion — very uncool to wear glasses. Adding insult to injury, my glasses were neither sleek nor fashionable nor an acceptable color.

My glasses were a brownish, polycarbonate plastic something-or-other that mimicked owl eyes. In addition to those frames, my eyesight was so poor that the lenses were, at minimum, the thickness of the bottom of a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. Imagine my poor little seven-year-old self, just trying to make sense of her culture and environment, having to navigate this additional “burden.” It felt like I was swimming in the deep end without a floatie. 

I made up many excuses and tried all the tricks to not wear my glasses. Naively, I begged my parents to let biology do its thing without intervention. I asked to be moved to the front of the class to see the board better. I sat closer to the TV; I even tried to compensate for my unclear vision by filling in the gaps and guessing letters and words that danced in front of my eyes while reading. Despite these challenges, the fact remained I needed these glasses. I needed them to learn, to make sense of my surroundings, to see — to live. Without them, life was a blur, and I could not focus on anything that was more than a few inches from my face. This presented a serious safety and quality-of-life issue that only corrective lenses could fix, regardless of my feelings about them or what childish taunts accompanied them.  

In Hebrews 12:2, we are encouraged to “fix our eyes” on Jesus, the “author and perfecter of our faith.” As someone who struggles (and I mean struggle with a capital S) with seeing things clearly without glasses, the beginning of this verse speaks to both little me with the owl-framed lenses and the woman sitting with you as you read today. Wearing glasses is critical for me to focus and fix my eyes on the things necessary to live a full and abundant life. In like manner, we focus and fix our eyes on Jesus so we can see as we should and live a full, abiding life in Him. Since we are truth-telling here, I confess that sometimes it can feel very uncomfortable to fix our eyes on Jesus when other things are vying for our attention.

Can I also share how often I can become the queen of excuses when I know I should focus fully on Jesus? Can anyone else relate?

I have learned the importance of intentionally fixing our eyes on Christ regardless of what we may be tempted to view around us. When our gaze drifts from Him, our vision is blurry and distorted. Hello, spiritual astigmatism! We become troubled and transfixed on the things around us rather than on Him. As our focus wanes, so does our trust in the One who is the author and perfecter of our faith. Having sight but not being able to see Jesus and His work in our lives would be a tragedy more daunting than we can even imagine. 

As an adult, I have had years to accept the necessity of wearing glasses. I have even had the option of using contacts to help me sojourn my world and experience life with clarity. What started as the correction of my physical sight allowed me to gain spiritual insight. I pray that you will also find this to be true in your life. I challenge you to put on your spiritual glasses (no matter what they look like), use those spiritual corrective lenses, and fix your eyes on Jesus so that you gain the vision He has for you . . . and much more.

May we see life through the lenses of His love, mercy, and grace — and may we live undistracted by the things around us. As we fix our eyes on Jesus, we will find our sight restored and our faith renewed, day by day.

Listen to Quantrilla’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts!

4 Life Lessons Brooklyn’s Best Pizza Taught Me About Faith in God

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On November 8, 2013, I got engaged in New York City with dream-come-true views of the Manhattan skyline and Brooklyn Bridge.

Before basking in the beautiful, breathtaking sights, I had to survive a full day of surprises. Delightfully, the first surprise involved pizza — my favorite food. We started the day in Midwood Brooklyn, stepping into Di Fara Pizza, an unassuming corner pizzeria with fluorescent lights and outdated floors. Crowded in the longest line, when we finally got to the counter, the cashier pulled out a pen and pad to take down our order.

This was the point we realized we were in for an experience. . .

Legend has it, Domenico “Dom” DeMarco, founder of Di Fara Pizza, has made pizza the same way since he emigrated from Provincia di Caserta in Italy to Brooklyn, New York and opened the pizzeria in 1965. When I say Di Fara Pizza is Brooklyn’s best pizza, it’s not sentimentality or a stretch of the imagination. Truly, as declared by New York Magazine, Di Fara Pizza is, “The holy grail of classic New York–style pizza,” while the New York Times says, “Domenico Demarco defined the New York slice.”

Still, Di Fara Pizza is Brooklyn’s best pizza not just because of how the pizza tastes, but because of how it’s made.

That day, as my then fiancé (now husband) and I stood there waiting for our order, we watched Dom unhurriedly spread slow-cooked sauce on the pizza pies, unhurriedly sprinkle mozzarella di bufala (mozzarella made from buffalo milk), and unhurriedly scatter snipped basil and hand-sliced pepperoni atop each pie. I say “unhurriedly” because Dom prepared each pie at a speed countercultural to the fast-paced mode of most New Yorkers.

To give an idea of just how unhurriedly Dom worked — we waited well over an hour for a total of three slices of pizza.

By the time we got our three slices, I was hungry and hangry. We ate our pizza on-the-go because the unexpected long wait made us late for the next scheduled surprise. I grabbed a slice from the box, folded it in half, and took a bite as grease gathered in the nooks and crannies of crust and melted cheese. My goodness, that slice of pizza was, indeed, the best we’d ever had. We felt bad that we’d complained about the wait and were kicking ourselves for only ordering three slices to split between the two of us.

Fast forward to November 2024, just months after our ten-year anniversary, my husband and I made our way back to Brooklyn. During our visit, we placed an order for pick up, this time a whole pie. With just one bite, we sat in the car (yes, again) astonished that — even after the passing of Dom in March 2022 — Di Fara Pizza hadn’t changed.

Surprisingly, reflecting on Di Fara Pizza and Dom’s legacy inspired me to ponder my faith in God in some deep and delightful ways. Here are a few things I learned that I hope will encourage you, too.

God stays the same. I’m amazed that Di Fara Pizza tasted exactly the same as it did over a decade ago. But my life is so very different… My body has changed due to health issues (I’m now gluten- and dairy-free, but I gave myself this one exception). My marriage, in simplest terms, is well beyond the honeymoon stage. And yet, as I contemplate how much my life has changed, I ponder the consistency of God — how God is the same today, yesterday, and forevermore. There’s a kind of reliable comfort in that, like coming back home to your favorite food.

God is intimately involved. Part of what makes Di Fara Pizza so treasured is the legacy of Dom’s approach to making pizza. It’s been said he believed that only one person should make the pies. He didn’t hand off the tedious work of spreading the sauce or turning the pizza by hand in the hot oven. He did the work himself, each day showing up to make pies, up to 150 pies a day. It reminds me of how God is intimately involved with each of us, deeply dedicated to even the seemingly trivial details of our lives.

God’s plan is always worth the wait. I still kick myself for complaining all those years ago. While Di Fara Pizza continues to be family-owned and operated, I’ll never get the chance to have a pie made by Dom himself. Sometimes in my life (okay, most times), I still feel like newly-engaged Rachel, huffing and puffing at the pizza counter, wanting the line to move faster and the pizza to come quicker. One lesson that I’m working on learning this year is to trust God’s plan (and timing), even when it feels foggy, frustrating, and slow.

God’s goodness is too good not to share. Currently, Di Fara Pizza has 53K followers on Instagram, 4.2K reviews on Google, and 4.1K reviews (with 2.5K photos posted) on Yelp. Di Fara Pizza has been featured in a variety of YouTube videos and articles. Many pizza makers in New York City name Dom, and his signature style, as inspiration for their pizzerias. Affectionately cherished, it goes to show — when something, or Someone, is proven tried and true, others will unapologetically share the good news.

Amen and amen, may we always, unapologetically, share the Good News. . .

Friends — which of these life lessons are you currently learning? Comment below and share a little bit about what God is showing you — I’d love to hear your story!

Listen to Rachel’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts!