God Will Meet You in Your Messy Spaces

God Will Meet You in Your Messy Spaces

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Have you ever felt like everyone else was given the handbook to life, and somehow you missed that day of class?

We are bombarded with messages that acquiring stuff is the goal. Every TV ad, Instagram influencer, and sponsored TikTok video shows the same thing: This one thing will change your life. How many times in a movie do we see someone shopping, buying the right outfit, and suddenly all their problems are solved? (They get the job, the guy, and the admiration of everyone around them.) But we rarely see the beauty of not buying the _______ (fill in the blank).

We ride a rollercoaster of feeling less than, noticing a need, acquiring more, then suddenly feeling like we have too much stuff — most of which we barely use. We feel suffocated by our surroundings, purge and donate things, only to find ourselves starting the same process over again a couple of months later.

If this is you, friend, you are not alone.

Yes, some people are more naturally orderly than others. Often, we marry them or give birth to them — and drive each other lovingly crazy — but I digress. If you feel like everyone “gets it” except you, let me share a few truths:

  1. You are not broken.
    Cluttery women are some of the kindest, most generous, and most creative souls I’ve ever met. If you needed a waffle iron, they’d be the first to offer it (if they can find it).
  2. You are not lazy.
    Just because you struggle with clutter doesn’t mean you don’t work hard. Most of the time, we can replace the label lazy with more accurate words like overwhelmed, overcommitted, or overstressed. When we use specific, nonjudgmental language, we can start addressing the real issues.
  3. You are not alone.
    I have a Facebook group of over ten thousand women all dealing with the same problems. They can be honest with each other because, for the most part, they don’t know each other in real life. The shame of clutter can keep us isolated and hopeless. But when we see others struggle and also begin to change, we realize we can do it too. Those are the first small steps to hope.

As the daughter of a hoarder, I never learned the skills I needed to care for my home, my space, or even myself in certain ways. But hope is the deep belief that with God’s help, we can change.

James 1:5 (NIV) says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”

I love the deeper meaning of the word “wisdom” (Greek: sophia) that James uses. While sophia can mean God-given insight, it also encompasses general knowledge or skill. Yes, we always want God’s deeper insight, but we can also ask to be guided to the knowledge and skills we need.

Ask God to surround you with people, books, and practical instructions to make lasting changes in your life when it comes to dealing with clutter (or whatever you’re struggling with today). Also, ask Him to help you understand your own heart and worries — those insecurities that keep things in your home that ultimately steal your peace.

If you are currently struggling with clutter, can I gently invite you to consider why you keep it?

  • Is it fear?
    If you look at something you haven’t used in five years but don’t want to let it go because “I might need it someday,” that might be fear talking. Fear says, What if I can’t replace it? or What if I regret letting it go?
  • Is it guilt?
    If you’re hanging on to a turtle statue you don’t really like because “But ______ gave it to me,” you may need to address guilt. One of my biggest decluttering challenges was learning to separate things from the people who gave them to me. I don’t need seventy knickknacks to show I love my aunt. I keep what’s precious and let go of what someone else would value more.
  • Is it shame?
    If your first thought when deciding whether to donate a pair of shoes you’ve only worn once is “But I spent so much money on these,” shame could be at play. Shame over spending habits, an inner critic that calls you wasteful, or even a parent’s voice. Keeping those shoes in your closet won’t bring back the money you spent. Let those shoes become someone else’s favorite pair.

Friend, know this: God is ready to meet you in the middle of your clutter. He longs to replace your overwhelm with His wisdom and grace. As you step forward — one drawer, one stack, one closet at a time — remember that you are not alone, and you are not behind.

God’s mercies are new every morning, and that includes mercy for your messy spaces and overwhelmed heart.

Today, ask Him for wisdom — and trust that He will give it to you generously. Then take one small action step. Toss the expired coupons, donate the shoes you never wear, or let go of that turtle statue. Watch how God shows up in the everyday details, guiding you from chaos to peace — one faithful step at a time.

Need a community to help you kickstart your decluttering? Join Kathi and her team over at Clutter Free Academy. Just answer a couple of questions to get in the Facebook group, and you will find not only wisdom, but daily, gentle encouragement.

A Forgiveness Beyond Comprehension

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“ If we claim we have no sin, we are only fooling ourselves and not living in the truth. But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness.”
1 John 1:8-9 NLT

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 replay button, and scenes of my wrongdoings would scroll across the screen of my mind. Although I confessed those sins to God and asked for His forgiveness, I couldn’t seem to forgive myself.

Then I heard something that 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? Despite 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 King David’s story. He didn’t recognize the scope of his sin until it was exposed to him by the prophet Nathan. David repented, then followed the Lord the rest of his days, serving and honoring Him.

God is merciful and forgives even the biggest sins when we repent and follow Him.

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.

Once I recognized how prideful it was to believe God could forgive the sins of others but not mine, I’ve never looked at myself the same way. Our difficult experiences — both the failures and the grace that covers them — can deepen our capacity for empathy toward others.

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’re covered in grace. Let’s live in the freedom of His forgiveness.

This devotion is by Dawn Camp from our favorite devotional journal, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle.

See God clearer and know Him deeper in the middle of your struggles.

Here is another short devotion from the book. Enjoy this encouragement from Robin Dance: 

When the World Feels Like Too Much

“I lift up my eyes to you,
to you who sit enthroned in heaven.”
Psalm 123:1 NIV

What are we to do when our world no longer makes sense? What are those who follow Jesus to do? I believe an old refrain holds the key:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, In the light of His glory and grace.

A while back, I had the sweet privilege of serving women in my area as a leader for a community Bible study. Before we’d meet every Thursday, our leadership team began by singing this familiar chorus.

Tendering our hearts in song was effective. The things of earth — never-ending to-do lists, work deadlines, disagreements among friends, challenges with children, arguments with a spouse, health concerns, financial pressures, the clatter of politics, even some of our anxieties and feeling not enough — grow strangely dim. Our worries wither under the blaze of God’s glory.

When we focus on Jesus instead of circumstances, our circumstances may not change, but we sure do.

I know what it’s like to wander around and feel lost, to wrestle in a sea of doubt, to question beliefs you once held dear. And while I don’t know what’s going on with you personally, I know all of us are affected by what’s going on in the world.

How can we possibly handle it? We can’t. We aren’t even supposed to — that’s why we have a Savior! Isn’t that liberating?

Let’s remind one another that the gospel is good news. When we are mindful of who God is and what He has accomplished in our lives and in our world… When we trust that He is good and loves us without condition.. When we study His Word, claim His promises, and accept the forgiveness He offers… When we believe that He holds the whole world in His hands… When we turn our eyes upon Jesus…

We will find peace.

To me, focusing on Jesus isn’t just one way we can best handle a world that feels crazy. It’s the only way.

 

To read more devotions like these, pick up your copy of our devotional journal, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle. We know it will meet your heart.

How Baking Bread Beckons Us to Slow Down

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The miracle of sourdough bread begins with five simple ingredients: flour, water, salt, starter, and a generous cup of patience.

I didn’t know if I had the patience to make this specialty bread. My friend offered me some sourdough starter and explained the process one Sunday afternoon. I hesitated.

Did I really have the bandwidth to feed a new baby daily? Was this one more thing to add to my already mile-long to-do list? 

During the pandemic, I watched as the sourdough trend spread and grew, like yeast working its way through dough in a warm kitchen. In those days, taking on a new hobby that required days of attention was not something I welcomed. I felt like I was teetering on the edge of overload and anxiety.

Little did I know that sourdough might just be the thing to save me in a different season and send me straight back to the Savior.

I set my glass bowl on the flat kitchen scale. This scale helps me measure ingredients with precision rather than with uneven measuring cups and spoons. I start with 100 grams of the bubbly sourdough starter my daughter cleverly named Martha. 

Martha sits on our kitchen counter in a large mason jar doing good work. I feed her daily with equal parts bread flour and water. The wooden spoon swirls vigorously until the starter shows the consistency of smooth pancake batter. Then I let her sit and grow. A wide, green rubber band, like a belt around the belly of the jar, helps mark how much Martha expands after each feeding.

Growing and harvesting yeast is like a science experiment in motion. Wild yeast is a single-celled fungus that feeds on sugars and starches and converts them into carbon dioxide. The carbon dioxide creates bubbles, which instigate the rise in bread dough. 

To be clear, I’m a cook by nature, not a baker. I work more naturally by feel, smell, and taste. Concocting savory sauces and simmering soups, which employ the palate over precision, is much more my comfort zone. Surprisingly, sourdough bread making has provided an intriguing challenge and new spiritual rhythm for me.

I pour the warm water into the bowl. When bits of starter float, it’s a sign Martha is active and ready for action. Then I measure the flour and sprinkle 10 grams of sea salt on top. I mix and knead the ingredients until they form a ragged, dry dough. 

Bread is first mentioned in Scripture back in Genesis 3:19 (NASB) as part of the curse:

“By the sweat of your face
You will eat bread,
Till you return to the ground,
Because from it you were taken;
For you are dust,
And to dust you shall return.”

The Hebrew word used in this passage for bread is “lehem,” sometimes translated more generically as food. These words are delivered to Adam after he and Eve ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Life. Even here in the midst of consequences, God is serving up a slice of grace. Bread will require work to prepare, but it will also serve as food, a sign of nourishment for all humankind. 

Bread becomes a sign of God’s provision in Exodus 16:4 when the Israelites are in the wilderness complaining of hunger. God tells Moses: “Behold, I will rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day…” (NASB). God chooses to provide daily bread for the people, which serves as evidence of His glory and compassionate provision.

While the ingredients rest in my bowl, they come together in a miraculous way. I return after 30 minutes to a dough that is smooth and stretchy, no longer ragged. I stretch and fold the dough before setting it aside to proof. In many ways, this mirrors what happens in my heart when I take time to rest and abide with God. My ragged fears and frustrations begin to settle and smooth as my heart is hydrated by Living Water.

In the New Testament, Jesus uses bread as a sign of God’s multiplication. He performs a miracle in John 6, where He multiplies a boy’s lunch of five small loaves of bread and two fish. Jesus takes the loaves, gives thanks to His Father, and distributes the food to a hungry crowd of more than 5,000 people. Then Jesus sends His disciples to gather the leftovers and witness the miracle. They gathered 12 baskets (John 6:13 ). When the people saw the leftovers, they believed Jesus was the Prophet they had been waiting for.

In John 6:35, Jesus simply, but profoundly, declares, “I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst” (NASB).

Through Holy Week, we remember how Jesus suffered and sacrificed, how his body was scored and hung on a cross. There is darkness in the tomb for a somber Good Friday and Silent Saturday, but then on Easter Sunday, the Bread of Life embodies the miracle and rises again!

Some days, the headlines weigh heavy on my heart, and the chaos of our world feels insurmountable. And I return to the liturgy of making bread, which beckons me to stretch and fold, knead and kneel, to taste and see the Master Baker at work. I sink my teeth into a slice of homemade sourdough slathered with butter and remember the miracle anew.

Dorina shares her passion for food, books, and travel in her weekly Glorygram and daily on Instagram.

 

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

He Is Risen: Hope That Holds Us

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“Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead!”
Luke 24:5-6 NLT

The weight of sorrow hung thick in the air as the women approached the tomb that morning. Their grief was fresh, their hearts heavy. Jesus, the One they had followed, the One they had believed was the Messiah, had suffered an excruciating death. He was gone. Now, all they had left was a broken heart and burial spices.

But in an instant, everything changed.

An angel appeared, light bursting through the darkness, with a message that would echo through eternity: He isn’t here! He is risen!

The empty tomb wasn’t just proof of Christ’s victory over death — it was proof that our hope is not in vain. The grave could not hold Jesus, and despair will not hold us. The same power that raised Christ from the dead now lives in us (Romans 8:11).

Sister, whatever brokenness you carry today, whatever disappointment or uncertainty weighs on your heart — Easter shouts the truth that hope is alive. Jesus’ resurrection isn’t just a moment in history; it’s the reality that reshapes our future. The cross says you are redeemed. The empty tomb declares you are victorious.

You are not alone. You are not forgotten. Your story isn’t over.

So lift your head. Stand firm in resurrection power. And walk in the freedom of the One who conquered death and lives forevermore.

Risen Savior, fill me with Your hope today. Thank You for the victory You won on the cross and through the empty tomb. Help me live in the power of Your resurrection. Amen.

Dark Ink, Dark Nights

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I pull out my Micron pen, safely tucked away in a nearby drawer. Cradling the pen’s cylindrical lightness in my palm, my fingers curl around it like a memory. This pen is a long-forgotten relic, representing a former version of myself: a more creative, carefree version . . . before the burnout, before the pandemic, before my most recent battle with depression.

Lost in thought now, my focus shifts back to the pen in hand. I uncap it. I study its fragile tip. But, it’s not paper I’ll use as my canvas. Instead, I touch the tip of the pin to my inner wrist, to the hollow between my hand and watch strap, and let the ink run like rivers down each crease and crevice of my open arm.

The pen swoops with gentle, cursive letters: I am penning a verse, a phrase, a lifeline.

This is a bygone habit I adopted in years past: etching encouraging truths onto my wrist or forearm, in some spot where my eye could easily catch them. These etchings would act as reminders throughout my day, reminders of important truths about God, of His plans and character, and of my identity.

When days turned into nights — and in seasons where the sun gave way to starless, ivy-cloaked evenings — this is when I turned to my water-soluble pens. I wrote these verses when I needed them most, with, “You are with me,” penned across my forearm.

In our faith journeys, there are seasons when prayers come easily, and there are seasons when prayers feel futile. There are times when God feels as close as ink on bare skin, and other times when He seems distant, far-off, perplexing. One moment we are on the mountaintop, and the next, we are plunged into the valley, the desert, the wilderness. “Dark nights of the soul,” are what St. John of the Cross called these disorienting and disillusioning periods where God trains us, strips us, and sanctifies us through fire and quiet desperation.

I am in a “dark night of the soul” now, once again. And, as I sit in the valley, my truth-stained hands reach for the ground. They dig deep, clawing the dirt and the perceived wreckage around me — wrought with unmet expectations and failure. My fingers sift the sand, searching for hidden bits of God’s goodness. Sometimes, it feels like my hands come up empty — but I know this is a lie. There are diamonds to be found somewhere hidden in this dirt, small gems forged by pressure, heat, and darkness.

So, I keep digging. We keep digging. We keep writing, we keep penning verses onto open arms, we keep reminding ourselves of the truth of God’s goodness. We discipline our minds to search for God’s goodness to us through Jesus and the cross. This is the truth: God’s love pours into our deepest, darkest places, tracing the curves of each sorrow and smoothing the rough edges of our souls. This is what we rehearse in the dark valleys. This is what’s true.

Next time we find ourselves in the dark valley, we will rehearse a new story — one where God’s love runs like ink down the worn creases of our hands, like soothing water in the deserts of our souls. He is here with us. He is here. He is here. It’s His living water that makes us beautiful; His living water turns our barren valleys into canyons, lush and fertile, and dripping with milk and honey.

With every feeble pen stroke, we declare a stronger truth for today, tomorrow, and forever.

The Women Stayed with Jesus. Can We?

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Today, on Good Friday, my church remembers the day that Jesus died. Our pastors enter the worship space in silence, then lie face down on the floor to humble themselves before the great sacrifice Christ made. We hear the Gospel story of the crucifixion, and then members of our community take turns carrying a large wooden cross so that everyone can reach out and touch it, thanking Jesus for what His love has meant for them.

Today stands among the most powerful days of the year in my faith.

But one year, everything changed for me.

In our church, we celebrate Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday as if they were one long liturgy, each day leading into the next. That year, after our Holy Thursday service had ended, I caught the smallest movement out of the corner of my eye as I gathered up my family’s coats to head home.

Two women were silently folding the altar cloths. Together they repeated the familiar movements: stretch the fabric wide, join the ends together, meet in the middle, and take up the ends again until the task is done.

As a child, I helped my mother fold sheets, blankets, and tablecloths like this. As a mother, I taught my children to do the same. So on that dark night as I watched the women do this quiet, faithful work, preparing the church for what would come next on Good Friday, I felt tears rise to my eyes.

Here were the women staying with Jesus all the way, as they have done since the beginning.

Each Gospel tells the story of the women in different ways. Luke describes Jesus meeting the women on the road to Calvary: “A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. Jesus turned and said to them, ‘Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children” (Luke 23:27-28 NIV).

Mark focuses on the faithful women who followed Jesus: “Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joseph, and Salome. In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs. Many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem were also there” (Mark 15:40-41 NIV).

John describes an unforgettable encounter between the risen Jesus and Mary Magdalene, who came to the tomb alone and in the dark: “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’ She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means ‘Teacher’)” (John 20:16 NIV). Mary was willing to seek the Lord, to stay weeping at the tomb after others left, and to spread the good news Jesus gave her — and her faithfulness changed the world.

And one of the most powerful — and often overlooked — moments that Jesus shared with a woman in the final hours before his death comes from the Gospel of Matthew. While in Bethany, Jesus speaks a stunning proclamation about the woman who anointed his head: “When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial. Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” (Matthew 26:12-13 NIV).

The loving, faithful, abundant service of women is at the heart of the Gospel.

The woman who anointed Jesus. The women who wept for Him on His way. The women who stayed at the cross. The women who cared for His body after death. The women who found the empty tomb. The women who told of the resurrection.

The women who stayed show us the way.

We don’t need to have all the answers to stay faithful to Jesus. We don’t have to understand exactly what God is doing. We don’t need to have power, resources, or the world’s attention. We only have to stay as close as we can to Jesus.

You are already following in the footsteps of these holy women. You are staying in the hard places where God is asking you to stay — or coming alongside those who need companions.

You stay with Jesus when you bring Him your broken heart: your care for loved ones, your concerns for your community, and your work in the world.

You stay with Jesus when you stay close to those in need: suffering friends, struggling relatives, or sisters and brothers across the ocean.

You stay with Jesus when you are willing to set out while it is still dark, while your heart is fearful but you decide to seek God anyway.

You stay with Jesus when you weep with those who weep. When you keep speaking the truth. When you are open to hearing God’s voice in a way you have never heard before.

Like the women folding the altar cloths in that empty church, Jesus’ faithful followers are hidden in plain view. We see them in our friends, families, churches, and even ourselves.

The women speaking out against injustice. The women reaching out to offer help. The women rallying their communities. The women caring for young and old. The women rising to serve and kneeling to pray. The women weeping at the news and asking, “God, what can I do?”

The women stayed with Jesus all the way — on the road, at the cross, to the tomb, and beyond.

Like them, we can stay with Jesus, too. We will not leave Him, and He will never leave us.

For more of Laura’s writing, check out her essays on spirituality in everyday life at The Holy Labor.

 

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

The Sloppiness and Surprise of Spring + Recipe for Strawberry Crisp

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I am not a fan of the spring season, for a few reasons.

First, here in Minnesota, spring is sloppy. It doesn’t look like the bright, flowery, fresh springtimes depicted in storybooks or TV shows. Here, the snow is just now melting, the earth is tamped down and wet with mud abounding. Forget blooming flowers and fresh air and bright sunshine; we get dreary damp days and cold soggy nights. Our flowers don’t begin to blossom until long after much of the rest of our country, very near the start of summer. We can’t plant our gardens until well past when some of my friends have already harvested their spring lettuces. Around here we don’t plant until after Memorial Day weekend. It could still snow, you know!

Spring means my mudroom is full. Loaded up with winter parkas, raincoats, and fleece jackets. Rainboots and winter boots, tennis shoes and flip-flops. Dirt and dust are par for the course, along with hats and mittens that badly need a washing. You never know what you’ll need for the weather, so we keep it all at the ready. . . which equates to one full mudroom.

Spring also signals the transition to summer, which means heat and humidity are on their way. Not my favorite. Sure, I do enjoy some aspects of summer (swimming, tending the garden, patio dining, evening walks, and the ease of no coats necessary) but even so, it’s just not my favorite.

Despite all that I grumble about during spring, there is one thing I adore. Since we moved into our home nearly eight years ago, I’ve kept an eye on the rock beds surrounding our front lawn for the first signs of spring. And each year, my hosta burst through the ground, reaching for the sky. They take their sweet time filling out and spilling large into the beds, taking up grand amounts of space they know belongs to them.

I don’t have fancy varieties or do anything special. They were here long before we moved in. We did divide and replant some from their original spots, but that’s it. I do nothing, and every year they bring me such joy. Our house needs a repaint, so we’re really in our beige era, and the pop of bright green that the hosta provides is such a breath of fresh air after a fall and winter of brown.

And isn’t that just like the goodness and grace of God?

Goodness and grace that we do nothing to earn. That we’ve done nothing to deserve. That brightens our day and brings us joy and offers us a moment to breathe deeply, thankful.

In the icy sloppiness of spring, new life bursts through right on time, as if by clockwork. Just when I don’t think I can take one more gray day, a fresh shoot springs up through the rock. Right when I’m convinced that I won’t make it to summer, that the trees will never return to their green leafy glory. . . those hostas pop up and begin their slow unfurling.

And every year I’m surprised. Taken right aback. I never expect the good thing to happen, gaslighting myself that I’ve made it all up and this will be the year it doesn’t happen.

Oh, how He is faithful in our deep-rooted doubting.

When we doubt that His glory could be real, that His story happened, that He makes us new and whole and scrubbed clean, even the hostas declare the Truth.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”
2 Corinthians 5:17 NIV

“See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. . . “
Isaiah 65:17 NIV

If the hostas can be neglected and dormant for months and months, then rise up on their own at just the right time, we just might be ok too.

Hang in there. Goodness may surprise you, right there in the sloppiness.

Devotion by Anna E. Rendell from the (in)courage archives.

And a new recipe for you!

Thank you to our friend Nancy C. for putting together this delicious recipe that tastes like the warmth of springtime sunshine and the coming soon summer. We hope you try it out and enjoy it with family and friends this season. Friends, scroll down for the recipe and to download a FREE printable recipe card!

Strawberry Crisp

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Bake Time: 35 minutes
Makes 6 servings (in 6-oz. ramekins)

INGREDIENTS

TOPPING:

  • 1/3 cup flour
  • ½ cup old-fashioned oats
  • ¼ cup packed brown sugar
  • 3 ½ Tbsp. butter, melted

FILLING:

  • 3 tsp. corn starch
  • 1 Tbsp. lemon juice
  • 4 ½ cups strawberries, hulled and sliced
  • 1/3 cup granulated sugar

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Preheat oven to 350 °F. Lightly grease six 6-oz. ramekins; set aside.
  2. Make the topping: In small bowl, mix the flour, oats, brown sugar, and melted butter with a fork until everything is well mixed; set aside.
  3. Make the filling: In a medium-size bowl, dissolve the cornstarch in the lemon juice, then add in the sliced strawberries and granulated sugar; toss all ingredients together.
  4. Divide the filling evenly among the 6 prepared ramekins, then sprinkle the top of each with the oat topping.
  5. Arrange the ramekins on a baking sheet, then place in the oven and bake 32-35 minutes, or until topping is golden and the filling is thickened and bubbly. Let cool about 10 minutes before serving.
  6. Optional: Top with whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla or strawberry ice cream.

Find these beautiful ramekins, wooden tray, and table runner all from the Mary & Martha collection — available at DaySpring.com. And tell us – what’s your favorite “spring is here” dessert?

God and the Time Machine of Memory

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When I was in elementary school, living in Japan, I had a traumatic after-school mix-up. In my confusion upon arriving home to our front door slightly ajar and not finding my mom there like she usually was, I believed that my home had been broken into and my mom had been kidnapped.

What began as a slight misunderstanding (she was with our upstairs landlords/neighbors), ended with me crying uncontrollably at the local subway station where I thought I might find my dad coming home from work. After what felt like hours, one of the ticket collectors took me to the attached police station office, where I tried to tell them the elaborate story I’d created in my anxiety. They gave me tea and walked me home to find my panicked parents.

As an adult, I can still remember how completely alone I felt standing in that train station, unable to stop crying and shaking, feeling like I might float away from everything I knew forever.

Henri Nouwen wrote:

“When I trust deeply that today God is truly with me and holds me safe in a divine embrace, guiding every one of my steps, I can let go of my anxious need to know how tomorrow will look, or what will happen next month or next year. I can be fully where I am and pay attention to the many signs of God’s love within me and around me.”

Sometimes we have to go back to learn how to be where we are. And one way I’ve begun to do this as a spiritual practice is something called Rememorari Divina. Rememorari Divina is Latin for divine remembering.

This practice is something I’ve done for some time, without even knowing or naming it as an official contemplative spiritual practice. Essentially it is pausing to reflect and remember while inviting God into the remembering.

I’ve always been someone who has looked back and carried vivid memories around as if they were in my back pocket. I haven’t always known what to do with them. At times I’ve gone back to them searching for something: closure, a clue, or another take. Other times, I’ve felt like some memories follow me like a shadow — making it hard to see the gift of today.

At some point in my longings and wrestling with the past, I started inviting God into those moments with me. It’s changed the way this melancholy girl looks back, and that has impacted the way I am able to stay present where I am, and trust that God is with me.

Rememorari Divina could be a sibling of Lectio or Visio Divina. The difference in this practice is that the focus is on a memory instead of reading a passage of Scripture or looking at a work of art. There’s no “fixing” what was, or anything specific that happens through the practice — it merely helps me connect the dots between a memory and God’s love for me; it’s a tool to experience God’s presence with me as I look back and consider both then and now. It’s sort of like a time machine for the imagination.

Inviting God into our memories can build our trust of God-with-us in the here and now — wherever we find our feet, heart, and soul in this moment.

I think of Jesus with His disciples the night before He died, passing the bread and wine and telling His friends to “remember Him” and what these elements represented. Every communion is an invitation to practice divine remembering.

Even though I know how everything turned out with the memory of that fateful afterschool mixup, and it seems like it should be enough to know it all turned out “okay,” for many years, it just wasn’t. The fear I felt all those years ago, and the way I held onto that experience, and the questions that I had as a child stayed with me long after the seeming danger was gone.

Asking God to remember it with me and show me that I wasn’t alone, and am not alone now, has been mending and kind for my heart and soul.

Try it yourself:

Imagine your younger self or think about a memory. (It can be a joyful or difficult one.)
Focus on whatever image or feeling stands out, and ask God to show you your belovedness in that memory.

Include these breath prayers if you are comfortable:

Breathe in and pray: God-with-me, show how You were with me then.
Breathe out and pray: I was never separated from Your Love.

Breathe in and pray: God-with-me, ground me in Your loving presence right now.
Breathe out and pray: Nothing can separate me from Your Love.

When we practice divine remembering, we open ourselves to seeing God’s presence woven through our stories — not just in hindsight, but in a way that reshapes how we carry those memories today.

So whether your past holds moments of fear or joy, uncertainty or hope, know this:

You were never alone. And you aren’t alone now. God was with you then. God is with you now. And God will be with you always.

 

Listen to Tasha’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app!

How to Honor Your Parents as Adults

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A close friend recently confided in me about her struggle to honor her parents, especially when she feels they haven’t earned such honor. As we talked, I realized that the issue wasn’t just about honor — it was also about boundaries. Since that conversation, I’ve noticed this is a common challenge for many.

Yet, we are called to be uncommon in a common world. 

So, how do we honor our parents as adults while maintaining healthy boundaries?

I’ve wrestled with this in my own life. When my husband, Darian, and I were first married, we had to navigate what it meant to build our own life and learn to say no to our parents. I’ll never forget the first time we had to miss my sweet mother-in-law’s birthday. She was devastated, and her feelings were hurt. I can remember thinking to myself, “Oh no, what did I get myself into?” Unpleasant words were exchanged among siblings, tears were shed, and I was frustrated. My husband didn’t know how to navigate all the different personalities and expectations.

We made it a priority to talk through that event and even reached a compromise. Neither Darian nor I ever intended to hurt his mom’s feelings. But we recognized that even though our boundary was healthy, she was still hurt, so we apologized, honored her, and celebrated her on a day that worked for all of us.

It’s now been three decades as a married couple choosing to maintain wise boundaries (and potentially disappointing someone) while still seeking to love and respect our parents. 

The Bible has a lot to say on this topic, but let’s go straight to the words of Jesus. In Matthew 15:4 (NIV), Jesus says: “For God said, ‘Honor your father and mother,’ and ‘Anyone who curses their father or mother must be put to death.’”

Wow! That sounds harsh at first. The context here is a controversial discussion between Jesus and the self-righteous religious leaders of His time. Jesus was quoting Moses’ writings, which outlined the laws God gave to the Israelites, including the importance of honoring parents. However, the Pharisees had twisted these laws to better suit themselves. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to enforce the laws — they just didn’t want to be held accountable by them.

When we read this, the punishment does seem extreme. I wish I had the time today to dive into how Jesus bore the penalty for sin on our behalf, or how this law was meant to protect the Israelites from the spread of evil, perversion, and dishonor — or even how dishonor could corrupt the lineage through which our Savior would come. But instead of getting stuck on a Scripture that might feel hard to grasp, I’m siding with Jesus and what He’s speaking to my heart right now.

It’s about keeping my heart in the right place rather than being like a Pharisee and justifying my actions. This was the same stance I had to take in those early years of marriage with both of our parents, even when my emotions didn’t want to.

This entire passage of Scripture speaks to a heart condition. Honoring our parents, even when we feel like they don’t deserve it or haven’t earned it, reflects the depth of our love — the kind of love that isn’t based on what we get in return. That’s not to say it’s easy. My friend described years of abuse, hurtful words, and unimaginable actions. So, how do we honor that?

Her situation is more complex than most. For some of us, the tension might come from parents being intrusive about how we parent our kids, manage our home, spend our time, or engage in relationships. Whatever the reason, honoring our parents as adults seems to be a place of tension in many people’s lives. 

We must remember that we are called to honor the position our parents hold — not necessarily their actions. Showing love and honor doesn’t mean we condone if they’ve treated us poorly, spoken hurtful words, or acted contrary to God’s Word and ways. Honoring our parents is often an act of forgiveness — choosing to let go of bitterness or offense, no matter their actions. Forgiveness doesn’t erase the need for boundaries, conversations, or consequences. It simply means we are choosing not to become bitter or offended, regardless of their actions. We refuse to let their actions poison our hearts.

We can show this love and forgiveness in how we speak to and about our parents. Too often, I hear people constantly complaining about their parents — saying things that, while true, don’t need to be spoken. Even when our parents hurt us, frustrate us, or act out of malice, we can still honor them by choosing words of love.

We can still do what the Lord tells us to do, even when our mom or dad doesn’t.

Honoring our parents doesn’t mean inviting them into every aspect of our lives, especially if their toxicity affects our well-being. On the other hand, just because a parent hurts your feelings doesn’t mean you should cut them out of your life entirely. However, if their actions are truly harmful to you or those around you, it’s okay — and even necessary — to set boundaries. 

Still, we shouldn’t respond to evil with evil. As someone wisely said, “I’m not going to become unhealthy while dealing with unhealth.” We can show honor by being kind, patient, and loving. By holding our tongues. By remembering important dates, reaching out, and keeping the peace. 

The key is to make sure your heart lines up with the Bible as you navigate those decisions. 

In short, we honor our parents by being doers of God’s Word, not just hearers. As Ephesians 4:31-32 (NLT) says: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”

If you’re struggling to determine whether your parents deserve honor, remember that God’s Kingdom doesn’t operate on what people deserve. It operates on grace. Honor is a matter of the heart. When Jesus spoke with the religious leaders, He addressed hearts that only wanted to justify their actions rather than obey God’s Word. When we approach our parents with a heart full of love, honor flows naturally. 

I’m so glad we didn’t allow emotional or hurtful moments to define how I honored my mother-in-law or my parents. Following the Lord’s trustworthy direction is always better than following my fickle feelings. 

 

Listen to Tyra’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app.

God Is Making All Things New… Yes, Even That

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It didn’t matter how hard I tried to forget — the dates were seared in my memory. I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, but I could remember with shocking clarity what took place over a February weekend eight years ago. 

I guess that’s the thing with pain. It can embed itself right into you. Pain isn’t something you can just slip off like the straps of a backpack. Pain can feel more like it’s been sewn into your very skin. 

Each February, I brace myself for a specific weekend. It’s the weekend that falls between Valentine’s Day and, in Ontario, Canada, a holiday known as Family Day. The holidays help mark it for me, and I think that’s why it’s so easy to remember and so hard to forget. 

Maybe you have a date like this too. Maybe for you it’s the day of the diagnosis or the betrayal. You can fill in the blank. But it can seem like no matter how hard you try to forget, each year the date comes around again, and you’re reminded. 

I hated this weekend on the calendar. Every year I wanted to skip it, move past it, or sleep my way through it. 

But this year, something changed. 

I hadn’t talked about the looming date with anyone except Jesus. I knew it was coming (I always knew it was coming), and I had spent time in prayer throughout the weeks leading up to it, asking God to help me move through it. I made a decision to stay busy that weekend, thinking I could maybe keep myself distracted. 

It was fine enough. The distractions felt bearable. 

And then God intervened in a way I’ll never forget. The weekend concluded with going out for dinner with my boyfriend and parents. And on the way to the restaurant, the man I love more than anything in the world told me something: he had gone to my parents earlier that day and asked for their blessing to marry me. 

He could’ve chosen any date on the calendar for that conversation. Unbeknownst to him, my boyfriend (now fiancé) chose to ask for a blessing on the date I’d always despised. 

At that very moment, the date I had hated for eight years was instantly rewritten. It didn’t erase all of the pain, but God was rewriting a much better story. It was no longer my past darkness that owned that weekend on the calendar. Now that date proclaimed the goodness God has in store for my future.  

The prophet Isaiah exclaims these beautiful words from God in Scripture: 

“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.”
Isaiah 43:18-19 NIV

And we can’t forget the promise of Jesus in the very last book of the Bible. It’s one of my favourite verses:

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
Revelation 21:5 NIV

God is making all things new. We don’t have to wait until eternity to see the newness God brings. There are things in your life, right now, that God is in the process of redeeming. There are dates on the calendar that God wants to rewrite. There are better stories you are going to get to tell.

I’m reminded each spring how God brings new life from what is seemingly dead and desolate. This weekend, we’ll remember how God resurrected Jesus from the grave. God makes all things new. The promise in Scripture isn’t just some things. The promise is all things. The promise is everything. 

Our God is a God of resurrection and redemption and making every single thing new. Even that date on the calendar you’ve been dreading.

Next year, that February weekend will be marked with a brand new, beautiful memory: the man I love asking for a blessing to marry me. I never could have fathomed it.

God is making all things new… all things. Even what you never thought He could. 

 

Listen to Aliza’s devo here or on the (in)courage podcast & share with a friend!

Even If God Never Reveals the “Why”

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My first year living in Nashville was one of the hardest seasons of my life. It was like being caught in a storm that just wouldn’t let up. The winds of physical illness and financial strain sought to pull me under, while loneliness poured down like cold, unrelenting rain, soaking every corner of my life.

I found myself staring up at the storm-darkened sky, asking the question so many skeptics and believers alike have asked. If God is loving and good, why does He allow evil? Why does God allow His children to walk through so much hardship?

I didn’t realize that my craving to obtain full knowledge of “good and evil” was the same temptation that first slithered into the lush Garden of Eden. It was this same temptation that curled around Eve’s heart, coaxing her fingers toward the forbidden fruit — the desire to grasp full knowledge of good and evil and, in doing so, to reach beyond her humanity and be like God.

“‘You will not certainly die,’ the serpent said to the woman. ‘For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’ When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”
Genesis 3:4-7 NIV

But control was never meant to be humanity’s comfort; and knowledge was never meant to be its anchor.  

Yet, still, I reached for control and knowledge as if they could steady me, as if knowing why would somehow bring calm and shift the course of the storms in my life. Somewhere along the way, I swallowed the lie whole, believing that if I could just understand, if I could make sense of it all, the burden might feel lighter.

But God never asked us to bear the weight of understanding. He only asked us to trust in the One who does. True peace isn’t in searching for answers to problems I have no power to solve. It’s found in surrender — resting in the hands of the One who holds every variable, even when I can’t solve the why. 

Sometimes, God’s greatest blessing is not revealing why. And that’s a strange kind of grace, isn’t it? Because you and I are not all-powerful, and having knowledge without the ability to change things would only leave us feeling even more helpless. 

The real gift isn’t in knowing why, but in knowing Who. 

Still, I’m learning — it is okay. It’s okay to bring the raw, tangled questions and unsanitized ache before God’s throne of grace, where mercy isn’t measured by logic. It’s okay to wrestle in prayer with fists clenched tight and tear-streaked cheeks, pouring out doubts to the God who spoke galaxies into existence and called light from the void.

So, like the Psalmist, I remind my own soul that God does not subtract His presence nor does He ration His affections when the disappointments pile high. He does not flinch when my faith feels fragile, and He never turns His face when my prayers sound more like pleading than praise. He multiplies His grace. He draws near, still.   

Can you, on some level, relate to this? Do you find yourself grasping to understand the full complexities of good and evil — trying to hold what was never meant for human hands? And, have you noticed? In doing so, we only step further away from the peace that comes from trusting He who is infinite in wisdom and power.

So, here’s a holy resolve. Even if God never reveals the why, we can choose to remember that our relationship with God isn’t hinged on perfect knowledge but fully on faith and trust in His sovereign character.

Instead of reaching for control, I want to reach for the hand that has always been reaching for me, even through life’s storms . . . and even when I don’t understand the why’s.

If You’ve Ever Asked, “Does God Still Want to Use Me?”

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I settle in on a lovely morning, coffee next to me, ready to begin my work for the day. Then my thoughts shift to recent mistakes I’ve made, words I wish I could unsay, things I would do differently now that I know more. I feel so human in this moment, and I hear a familiar lie, “God doesn’t want to use you anymore because…”

Have you ever heard this too? We can fill in the blank in a million different ways:

Because you’re broken.
Because you struggle with anger, addiction, anxiety.
Because you’re not spiritual enough.
Because you did that ONE thing years ago that can never be erased.

Can we pause together and see this lie for what it is? An attempt from the enemy of our hearts to make us believe we’re disqualified. But when I look at the pages of Scripture, I don’t see God disqualifying people. Instead, I witness God choosing the most unlikely.

Let’s consider two: David the adulterer and Peter the quick-tempered denier (false labels we might use as humans). What we need to see in these stories is that these people made their worst mistakes after God called them. David was a shepherd boy already placed on a throne. Peter walked with Jesus and saw miracles firsthand. And yet they still made devastating decisions.

Sometimes we hear dramatic testimonies of people whose lives drastically changed when they came to know Jesus. We can get the impression that grace is for those who don’t yet know God, but once we do, then we’d better get everything right. But grace is not just for salvation. It’s for the daily slip-ups, the ongoing struggles, the regrets that wake us up in the night.

Peter comes to Jesus and asks, “’Lord, how many times must I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? As many as seven times?’” (Matthew 18:21 CSB). This verse makes me laugh a little because it appears Peter has HAD IT with someone. He wants to know when he can be DONE.

“I tell you, not as many as seven,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:22). Most scholars believe that this is a figure of speech that implies we are to forgive an infinite number of times. We, like Peter, can come to the end of our patience or tolerance. So it’s easy to imagine God doing the same with us.

But here is the difference: we are limited and God is limitless. He doesn’t just love. He is love. He has also seen everything humans have done since the beginning of time, starting in the Garden of Eden. He has heard every thought, knows every secret. We sometimes act as if God is naïve. But He shows mercy with His eyes wide open.

We can’t shock Him so much that He will give up on us. We can’t fall so many times that He will refuse to pick us up. We can’t push Him past the limits of His love for us. When a voice whispers, “You are disqualified” or “You’ve blown it one too many times,” it is not the One who calls us beloved.

What God asks of us isn’t perfection; it’s to keep showing up and trying again. When we dare to do so, God doesn’t stand back in disappointment, He rejoices like a parent watching their child learn to walk.

Wherever you are today, whatever you have done, God is not finished with you. If you have breath in your lungs, if you have grace to share, if you have a heart willing to love, then He wants to use you. The stories that give Him the most glory aren’t the tidy ones; they are the ones that include two words: But God.

I struggled with something for years, but God…

I made mistakes that I regret, but God…

I wanted to give up, but God…

Where do you need a “but God” in your life right now? Pause and give Him whatever is causing you shame, guilt, discouragement, or fear. He is strong enough to hold all of it and loving enough to hold you too. He wants to use even your weaknesses and failures to show His strength and faithfulness.

If you’re not sure how God wants to use you, Holley’s new course, Find Your Purpose in this Season, will help you figure it out! PLUS she has something special for the first 100 people to sign up (update: there are less than 20 left).

 

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

Dead Dreams and Resurrected Joy

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When I was a young girl, what I wanted more than anything else was to be a wife and mother. I spent countless hours imagining my future family, including two or four children and a handsome and romantic husband. And, of course, all of them would adore me. That was a given. As for a career, my aspirations change day by day. But my desire for marriage and children never wavered. Naturally, I spent the better part of fourth-grade science class sitting across from my nine-year-old crush, writing my soon-to-be married name and dreaming up the names of our future children in a spiral notebook.

In my imagination, everything would be perfect. Like a framed photo on the fireplace mantle. Ours would be the best of families, full of memories and laughter and prayers around the kitchen table. I would make sure of it.

Bless my little nine-year-old heart. I had no idea the form real life would take.

Sometimes, dreams don’t deliver. One day, you’re doodling imaginary baby names, and the next day, you’re holding one of those babies on your hip while your husband drives away for the last time. Sometimes divorce and disconnect and loss tear the family picture right down the middle, leaving little of the original image in its aftermath. And when that happens, sometimes all you can see in the faces of the people around you is grief and loss. What does a nine-year-old girl do then?

A few weeks ago, my second son got married. All of us came together — me and my now long-time husband, our other five children, one additional daughter-in-law, and a grandma — to celebrate the pure joy of our son and his new wife. It was a small celebration, exactly what the bride and groom wanted, maybe thirty people total. As the night neared its end, I stopped all my celebrating simply to take in the room. I slowly scanned every face, all the different people represented.

This is what I noticed:

First, I saw evidence of disrupted dreams everywhere. Marriages that didn’t last, careers that suddenly changed, adults and children alike who struggle in their day-to-day lives. Between the bride and groom, four separate families were represented. “In-laws” and “ex-laws” filled the room, the broken and blended families creating a complex dynamic. I’m sure I’m not the only one who once imagined our family would look different, more whole,  than the picture I now saw.

But I also noticed the beauty. Despite all that our family has endured, we’re still here. We love each other, forgive each other, and show up for each other. It may not look like we’d once imagined, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But I watched my son’s eyes light up with love, my newest daughter-in-law shine like a princess in a fairy tale, and my entire crazy crew laugh and celebrate in the middle of much love, hope, and redemption. And the beauty of it took my breath away.

As we walked back to our car after saying goodbye to the bride and groom, my mom looked at me and beamed: “Oh Michele, I just love this family of yours.”

Me too, Mom. Me too.

No, this is not what the little girl dreamed of in her spiral notebooks. I never imagined I would have such a complicated, imperfect family. But I also never dreamed my God could take such a mess and make something so blindingly beautiful out of it.

King Solomon knew something of the angst that accompanies midlife reflection and regret. He wrote Ecclesiastes, at least in part, to process the many ways life doesn’t always pan out. Perhaps that’s why some call Ecclesiastes the Book of MidLife Crises. I certainly can relate.

But even amid Solomon’s angsty musings, he also recognized the hand of God at work in the middle of it:

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart;
yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV

That’s it exactly. My God makes everything beautiful in its time. Our family — my life! — doesn’t look anything like I thought it would. I need to acknowledge that truth, bury the dream, and allow myself to grieve at the graveside.

But if I stop there, I’ve missed the miracle of it all. Because of God’s great mercy and grace, He has turned the ashes of my dream into a beautiful and redemptive story. Stunning, breathtaking, faith-building.Who could imagine such a gift?!

My friend, do you have an old dream you need to relinquish? You can trust Him with it. Ours is a God who takes the bones of dead dreams and puts new flesh on them, breathing new life into them (see Ezek. 37:1-14). He takes the mistakes and missteps and says, “Behold! I make all things new!” (Rev. 21:5). And when we choose to release regrets and disappointments to what God is yet doing, tears are transformed into new hope and resurrected joy.

 

Listen to Michele’s devotion here or wherever you listen to podcasts.

Dancing in the Moment: Choosing Joy Over the Checklist

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I shuffled in and out of rooms to the sounds of the latest contemporary Christian hits, family movie soundtracks, and the voices of kids who amazingly knew every single lyric in every octave. 

My oldest was at school while my younger three had woken up to start working on their homeschool lessons before I’d even cracked an eye open. This did not happen on a normal day; this day we were prepping for a trip to our other home in Iceland. Their excitement flowed in and out of rooms, pulled me out of my sleep, and set my to-do list in motion. 

I had bags to finish packing, emails to send, homeschool lessons to help with, and a house to clean. Not to mention I was battling a lingering cough and an eczema flare-up. 

My expression was all business and the kids knew mommy was in the mode to get things done.

On one of my hurried passes from the kitchen to our bedroom, the song changed to an upbeat tune with rhythmic drums and melody. My youngest hopped up from the table and started dancing, his movements cute and surprisingly on beat.

He was feeling it. And in that moment, though I didn’t feel like it, spontaneity outweighed my duty and I joined him. I ignored my achy hips and stepped to the fun beat in my house shoes, a dance party for two. I matched my son’s moves and he matched mine, his dimples deepening by the second. And as we danced, I couldn’t help but smile wider because, in that instant, I knew that a core memory was forming for him — something that would be triggered and remembered later when he needed it the most.

Maybe the unlocking would happen years into the future when he heard the same song played over restaurant speakers, or perhaps when he saw my same house shoes on a trip to the store. Maybe he’ll one day have his own family to tend to, and the cute moves of his children will pull him out of his busy into being in the moment with them.

We’ve probably all experienced those times when an image or item triggers nostalgia and we say “core memory unlocked.” Unfortunately, some of those memories are ones we would rather shove back into the corners of our minds. Yet even now, as we submit ourselves to the care of our loving Heavenly Father, He can set things in motion that bring about redemption.

For my son, I had the strongest sense that this moment of me pausing my steps to dance in time to his would stay with him. His joy was immediate and overflowing, spurting out in bursts of hugs all throughout our spontaneous dance. Even as I type this I can still hear his laughter in my mind, giggles echoing into the recesses of my heart.

It can be too easy to zoom through days, doing our best to accomplish the ever-elusive completed checklist. Surely even Jesus’ disciples felt the weight of responsibilities and all the tasks that needed to be accomplished. But Jesus showed them how children were not a hindrance to life or ministry but a gift to be embraced! Jesus actively engaged with the little ones, their joy intermingling with His.

“He took a little child whom he placed among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me.’”
Mark 9:36-37 NIV

I can only imagine the memories these children had years later, getting wrapped up in the arms of God in the flesh.

My kids’ antics can sometimes get lost in my need to effectively manage their activities, welfare, and even their spiritual engagement. But as I swayed there in the living room in my pajamas, the ding of the finished laundry cycle and the hum of to-dos buzzing in my head, I surrendered to the sacredness of that moment with my boys. 

The sounds of their present laughter and the feel of their arms around my waist joined the memories of their soulful infant gazes and nourishment under nursing covers, of heads tucked into my shoulder after a painful fall, of snuggles on movie nights and slowly traipsing through snow and their wonder of it all. 

I felt the significance of the moment almost as strongly as when tears stung my eyes the day they were baptized. Not because dancing with my seven-year-old in the living room is equivalent to the sacrifice of our Savior. But because set before me were the answers to past prayers and evidence of redemption in my own family line.

I can’t always control what will latch onto my kids for a lifetime, but I can make Spirit-led choices in the now to plant seeds for their unfolding futures. As one of my friends shared many years ago, my prayers can be like arrows, sent out to meet my kids along their journeys. And so too can my intention to be present with them and others in my community. Even if that looks like a few minutes of spontaneous dancing in slippers.

They are core memories forming to be unlocked later.

Seeds to bloom alongside future paths.

Joy set before our children.

Joy set before us.

Maybe you’ve felt the same pull — the tension between duty and delight, between what must get done and what your heart longs to savor. The good news? You don’t have to choose one over the other. You can press pause and welcome joy into the room, even if it interrupts the checklist.

Your kids won’t remember every chore you completed, but they will remember the times you chose them — the times you laughed and let love take center stage. And someday, when life presses in on them, they’ll have these moments to return to — proof that joy is always worth making room for.

So go ahead, friend. Say yes to a moment today. Plant the seed. Dance in the slippers. Trust that love given now will echo into eternity.

 

Listen to Jenny’s devotion here or on your favorite podcast app!

Comparison Kills Confidence

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“A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.”
Proverbs 14:30 NIV

Growing up, there were two Hannah L’s in my class (one of them was me, since my maiden name is Linn). But that other Hannah L, though… man, she was cool. So sweet, so respectful, so soft-spoken (unlike me, the loudmouthed howler monkey). But also, Hannah L. was a total beast at sports. Y’all don’t even know — that chick was the legendary one on the team. She had a physique like a legendary athlete, shot hoops like a legendary baller, and ran track like a legendary sprinter. On the other hand, little old me bee-bopped around like a cricket on crack and mainly competed because it was fun. But, if we’re being honest, it was fun because we won — like, all the time — largely thanks to Hannah L. Her presence made us winners too.

Unfortunately, girls like my friend Hannah L. are easy targets for comparison. Flawed hearts see women like her through eyes of inferiority — brewing jealousy and killing confidence. And sadly, I see this happen among women within the body of Christ all the time.

In her book Not from God, Kaitlin Chappell Rogers illustrates the tie between comparison and jealousy perfectly:

“Comparison and Jealousy are like twin sisters.

Comparison tells you to put your life up against someone else’s, and Jealousy comes along and tells you to envy what they have.

Comparison says you’re [not as cool] as her, and Jealousy tells you to pick her apart to make yourself feel better.”

Because I love you, I’m going to give it to you straight:

Comparison shifts a God-focused heart to a self-centered heart. Comparison swings the pendulum from inspiration to subtle hatred. It blinds the truth, rots the soul, and drives people to do things like gossip, manipulate, and inflict harm upon others and themselves.

Overcoming comparison buys us a one-way ticket to Confidence City, USA — with Jesus as the pilot! He flies us straight to destinations of contentment, joy, and gratefulness. He reveals to us that if His goodness is for her, it’s for us too! When we love the Hannah L’s in our life like Jesus does, we always remain on the winning team.

God, give me eyes to see Your goodness in the women I admire. May it lead me to a fulfilled, confident life. Amen.

—

Dive into the newest devotional by Hannah Crews, A Confidence That Changes Everything! It’s all about being able to walk into every room like Jesus sent you. Take a peek inside with this word from the introduction by Hannah:

“I know what you might be thinking:

Here we are again. Another Christian lady writing about confidence like she’s got it all figured out. She’s got no idea what I’ve been through or what it’s like to be me!

I hear you, my friend. And I’ll be the first to admit that, 1) I don’t have it all figured out; 2) I get how hard it is to feel confident when life repeatedly knocks you down; and 3) I understand how annoying it is to receive unsolicited advice from people who have never walked a day in your shoes.

But girl, let me just tell you something: This confidence devotional is different! It’s hilarious, humbling, and hopeful all at the same time.

It’s designed to make you laugh, revamp your perspective, and allow you to see yourself the way Jesus does. It will help you to leave comparison behind for good — because after all, you don’t need to become more like her when you’re becoming more like Him!”

And friend, this is exactly what you’ll find in Hannah’s new book.

Order your copy today. . . And, enter to WIN one of five copies of A Confidence That Changes Everything that we’re giving away*! Leave a comment on this article and be entered to win.

Then be SURE to tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a fun, inspiring, and deeply meaningful conversation with Becky Keife and Hannah. Listen on your favorite podcast app!

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close at 11:59 pm central on 4/17/25.

Are You Listening to God When He Speaks?

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A few weeks ago, at Community Bible Study, in the middle of our small group discussion of Matthew 21:23-27, I found myself scribbling in the margins of my study book—

Know me
Grow me
Show me

and I thought, Where in the world did that come from? It felt disconnected from our discussion about religious leaders challenging Jesus’s authority, but it also seemed like something I should pay attention to. I decided that if God really wanted me to dig deeper, He would keep reminding me.

And He did. As forgetful as I can be, those particular six words kept coming to mind, and I flipped back to that page almost every time I worked on my Bible study questions.

I began asking the Holy Spirit to help me understand what He wanted me to learn, and two more words snuck onto my list –

Slow me

Know me, grow me, show me, slow me…. It all felt so personal. Isn’t this one of the most incredible aspects of our lives in Christ? When God speaks to your heart, it is personal.

I know, and more importantly, God knows, that I’m a wanderer prone to doubt. He has been kind to use what I consider a flaw to draw me closer to Him. What a precious and undeserved gift.

God knows us personally and intimately; He loves who we are and who we are becoming. Our faith is marked by constant transformation because God desires to shape, refine, and mold us into the image of Christ. Transformation is a lifelong process that begins when we hear and receive the gospel. It requires our complete surrender — allowing God to know us, show us Himself, grow us spiritually, and slow us down when we’re tempted to run ahead of Him.

The best way for us to know God is through His Word. I sifted those eight little words through the sieve of Scripture, and relevant, powerful, and sweetly familiar verses began to surface:

Know Me

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!”
Psalm 139:23-24 ESV

True, God is all-knowing, but He wants us to invite Him to truly know us. It’s less about what He already knows, and more about willingly opening our hearts to Him, allowing Him to examine us, reveal hidden sins, and work in our lives. In asking God to know me, I’m surrendering my deepest thoughts, struggles, and desires, trusting Him to align them with His will.

Show Me

“Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.”
Psalm 25:4-5 NIV

Knowing God and letting ourselves be known by Him is essential, but walking in His ways is transformational. When we ask God to show us, we’re seeking more than knowledge—we’re asking for direction, clarity, and the courage to follow where He leads. Life is a maze of decisions, and without His guidance, we risk wandering aimlessly. (Ask me how I know…)

 

Moses understood this. In Exodus 33:13 (ESV), he pleaded, “… Now therefore, if I have found favor in your sight, please show me now your ways, that I may know you in order to find favor in your sight.” His prayer wasn’t passive; it was a humble yet bold request for revelation that led to deeper intimacy with God. May this be our posture too—asking, listening, and stepping forward in faith.

 

Grow Me

“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
James 1:4 NIV

Spiritual growth does not happen overnight. Becoming a mature disciple requires seasons of refinement, trials, and learning. Often, God allows difficulties to strengthen our faith and develop perseverance. While these seasons may be challenging and no one wants them, they are pivotal for our growth. Perseverance in our faith is hard but holy work.

Jesus used the analogy of a vine and branches in John 15:5, saying, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit.” Growth happens when we abide in Him, allowing His Word and Spirit to shape us.

Slow Me

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Psalm 46:10 NIV

In a world that glorifies busyness, God often calls us to slow down and rest in Him. We know this, and yet, we struggle with obedience. When we rush ahead of His timing, we risk making decisions out of impatience or self-reliance rather than faith. Slowing down allows us to hear His voice more clearly and walk in His perfect peace.

Jesus modeled this beautifully. Despite His demanding ministry, He frequently withdrew to quiet places to pray (Luke 5:16). If Jesus needed moments of stillness, how much more do we?

Know me. Show me. Grow me. Slow me. Eight little words with big divine encouragement that can lead to a sweeter, deeper, and more fulfilling relationship with Jesus for you and me both. I’m so thankful for the Spirit’s little nudges to explore what God had for me that day. Sometimes returning to simple lessons in our faith is the spiritual comfort food we need.

How has the Holy Spirit spoken to you lately? What is God stirring in your heart today?

 

Listen to Robin’s devotion on the (in)courage podcast, here or wherever you love to listen!