Trusting His Plan Even When We Don’t Want To

Trusting His Plan Even When We Don’t Want To

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I am a big fan of watching home makeover shows. Fixing up old homes, renovating a space, making places in your home work better, organizing — I love all of it! Not only are they fun to watch, but I love the inspiration that comes from them. There is always something great I can take away and use in my own home.

I was watching one of my favorite shows the other night when something struck me. It happens time and again. The homeowners talk with the designer, excitedly telling her what they don’t like about their home, what isn’t working, what they need fixed, and what they would like out of their home. The designer takes that info and goes to work, designing what they want and need. She meets back with them to go over her plans, and there’s that face. The excitement is gone, and the couple look at each other like, “Um, no.” They question everything they just heard, and they aren’t on board with her plan. They don’t think certain things will work. They think something is going to look bad. They just don’t want to listen.

I look at the designer’s face when this happens, and she doesn’t understand the opposition. She’s the professional — the one who was hired to do the job. She put her experience, schooling, and expertise into creating a great plan, but then she’s not trusted.

How many of us, including me, treat God like this at times? He asks us to trust Him with His plan for our lives. He asks us to listen to His voice and follow His way. But sometimes we just don’t want to. We aren’t sure His plan is what we want or if it fits into our own plans. We think we know better, and we want to do things our way instead. We don’t want to budge. We want an easier way. We doubt Him and question His instructions.

It would be easy to trust and follow God if we could see His plans, right?

It takes great courage not to know what is ahead and to step out in faith to trust God, listen to Him, and follow His plan. His journey for us won’t always be easy or make us happy in the moment, but He has a purpose even when we can’t see it. He loves us so much, and His plan for our lives is good.

But we have to do more than just hear or read God’s Word. We must truly listen and follow it; we have to do what He says.

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.
James 1:22 (NIV)

We are called to listen to Him, one day at a time, and obey His will even if we don’t understand what is to come.

Most of the time in these makeover shows, the homeowners do come around at the end. When they see the completed job, they totally love what was done in their home, and often with tears in their eyes, they say it looks better than they would have even imagined. They see then that they should have trusted the professional all along.

God has a wonderful plan for your life, and it is better than anything you thought you wanted or needed. We don’t need to question it and doubt Him. Listen, follow, and trust God’s expertise even when it’s hard — especially when it’s hard.

However, as it is written: “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived”  — the things God has prepared for those who love Him.
1 Corinthians 2:9 (NIV)

Even in the Midst of the Storm, He Is Your Refuge

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As I sat in the waiting room of the emergency department that mid-December evening, I tried not to give in to the scary thoughts swirling through my mind. Hours later, as I laid still for the CT scan to check for abnormalities in the blood vessels of my brain, I was too anxious to pray. All the Scripture verses I knew fled my mind as I tried not to imagine the worst. Instead, I dredged up my faith and repeatedly chanted to myself, “Thank You, God. Everything is okay.”

It wasn’t a stroke, but the diagnosis didn’t really sink in until the next morning when I was brushing my teeth. I couldn’t spit out the toothpaste but sort of dribbled instead.

Bell’s palsy.

Unilateral facial paralysis.

I couldn’t eat or drink without embarrassing myself. My smile had become a mockery of its former self; only the right side of my face moved. My left eye streamed pretty much non-stop. I couldn’t raise my left eyebrow, and my hearing on that side sounded strangely muffled.

I took an extended sick leave from work. The days stretched out before me, punctuated only by sleep and the frequent beeps of my phone’s alarm reminding me to take my medication. My parents had kindly taken my kids until Christmas so I could have time to rest.

In the early days, I offered up desperate prayers and pleas to God for a quick and full healing despite knowing that recovery could take up to a year.

I was so sure that my case would be different. But when the days turned into weeks and I didn’t recover as quickly as I expected, I flatlined spiritually. I had no motivation or inclination to pray or read my Bible. I felt numb and alone.

January arrived and for the first time in years, I started a new year without any personal, business, or career goals. I had only one burning desire: full medical recovery.

I’m blessed to have a job where I can work from home, so after six weeks off, I was able to resume work. I was not recovered but no longer “unwell.” During this time, I began to see tiny improvements. For example, I could roll my upper lip, which also meant that I could use a straw. This was progress!

Then the pandemic hit. The government announced a lockdown and schools closed. My husband is a frontline worker, and my parents were out of the country. I felt distraught. How would I cope with working and looking after two children singlehandedly while also trying to recover? The doctors had stressed the importance of resting and taking things easy. How was that going to happen with two energetic children underfoot?

I felt as if I’d been journeying slowly through a dark valley but had suddenly became stuck with no way out.

It wasn’t until halfway through June, six months into my recovery and still in the middle of lockdown, that I came to a startling realization: despite having many days when I felt harried by all that was expected of me, I was somehow coping. Despite my spiritual numbness, God’s presence had been with me through the dark times, though I didn’t always feel it.

The road to recovery is taking longer than I ever expected, but each day I see His hand perform a new miracle, in the twitch of an eyelid or in a smile that’s slowly starting to tilt the right way, and I’m encouraged.

One of my favorite verses from Scripture says, “I will never [under any circumstances] desert you [nor give you up nor leave you without support, nor will I in any degree leave you helpless], nor will I forsake or let you down or relax My hold on you [assuredly not]!” (Hebrews 13:5 AMP)

Through this scary and overwhelming year, there were times when I wondered if God was still listening. But looking back, I see that I couldn’t have made it this far if He had let go.

I was never alone.

This season has given a new depth to my faith. Each day is a deliberate act of trusting and leaning into God’s rest. Despite the raging storms that cause my heart to shake, I know that “I’m in the shadow of the Almighty whose power no enemy can withstand” (Psalm 91:2 AMP). What great comfort to dwell in His secret place and have Him as my refuge.

From the Soil of Dead Dreams

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Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce. . . . And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare.
Jeremiah 29:5,7 (NLT)

We were so sure about the call to ministry on our lives even before we got married. It was what connected us as a couple, the thing that took us from one address and assignment to another, and eventually to Germany together. Germany was one of our last stops, the last clear call we heard from God, our last hope to see if something in ministry might actually work out for us in the long haul. But what had once felt like the greatest purpose of our lives — both as individuals and as a couple — started to feel like wearing clothes in the wrong size. We wrestled to make them fit, constantly adjusting and readjusting the way we looked at the future.

After Germany, we moved back to the States, and after another year of full-time ministry, we left it. We stepped into a landscape of wilderness and silence. We began living lives we didn’t imagine we would be living, in a place I never wanted to live in.

We clung to each other as we wrestled through the slow grief of our dreams dying. There were days of melancholy and longing, repeated prayers of pleading to be called back to what was, tearful nights, and quiet, lonely dinners. The days piled up one after another, seemingly void of purpose. The nagging feeling that we were doing something wrong, or that we ourselves were wrong and not good enough to be in ministry, followed me around like an ugly shadow.

I wish I could say it became easier after a few rough months. But the death of anything never comes easy. And for years the grief of those dead dreams kept coming back without invitation. But we tended to the simple things right in front of us. We started noticing the neighbors around us. We moved toward the ones we didn’t choose, the ones chosen for us. These tiny things became our seeds. We watered them with tears of grief, the ache of discontent, and slivers of hope. And over time our tiny, imperfect offering of dreams come undone became a beautiful garden. It was in this garden that I began to learn how to be still and to receive. This unexpected garden began to nourish us.

I see now what I couldn’t see ten years ago: the death of my dream was not the death of God’s dreams for me.

God, this doesn’t look like I thought it would, and it’s breaking my heart. Yet I’m in a place of learning how to be still and how to receive, and my hands are open to Your plan. Nourish me in this unexpected garden and help me see that the death of this dream is not the death of Your dreams for me. Amen.

Written by Tasha Jun, as published in Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay

Our newest devotional, Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay, is full of stories where women share from the depth of their experience, pain, and eventual hope as they struggled through times when life was not okay. Take Heart is now available to purchase and we are so excited for this book to land in your hands!

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Wise in Our Own Eyes

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I looked out our kitchen window and knew disaster awaited.

“Boys,” I yelled outside. “Aim your golf club in the opposite direction or someone’s going to break a window.”

Two of our three sons agreed. “Okay, Mom. No problem.” And yet there was one hold-out to my simple request. With all the gumption our twelve-year-old could muster, he insisted, “Mom, there’s no way my golf ball will hit the window. I know what I’m doing.”

He’d laid down the gauntlet, and after a feisty dialogue about choices and obedience, I thought it resolved. While he was convinced that there was no pending problem, I assumed he’d obey, but minutes after our exchange, I heard it! That “professional” golfer hit and shattered the very window of which I had warned him. I was livid.

“All I asked you to do was to aim your swing in the opposite direction! How difficult is that for you? It’s not. It’s simple.”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I was so sure that I wouldn’t hit the window.”

The golf ball stayed lodged in the shattered glass for over a year. Without any additional lectures needed, it served as a visual reminder, a marker of sorts. I only had to point at it, and he remembered this life lesson.

Our son didn’t set out to crack this window. His heart attitude didn’t declare, “I will purposely disobey my mom because I want to do her wrong.” Rather it stemmed from the Scripture, “Every man did that which was right in his own eyes” (Judges 21:25 KJV).

Our son acted on his own authority and with the belief that he knew better. Ultimately, his twelve-year-old wisdom and knowledge failed him. While my sin might not be as outwardly defiant as his, I too have done the same more often than I care to admit.

As a mom of five, I’m no stranger to Proverbs 3:7: “Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil.” I admit I’m a big fan of this verse for our kids, but in turn, the Lord opened my eyes to how strategically relevant it is in today’s culture. In leadership, the workforce, politics, and even parenting books, everything screams, “My opinion is right!”

I can dismiss much of the pride and rhetoric as I hone my critical thinking skills and even learn from those I disagree with, but my heart grieves when I see people — including myself — elevate opinions above the truth of Scripture. It has me asking, Lord, are we becoming a generation so wise in our own eyes that we are missing out on Your glory by doing so?

In a potluck society where we bring to the table a few Scripture passages dished up with a side of personal opinions, it results in a smorgasbord that no longer fully aligns with God’s Word. Once considered sharper than a two-edged sword, its authority becomes dulled to a butter knife amidst compromise. We read books and topical articles about the Bible. We listen to our favorite authors and podcasters to glean what they think about certain chapters. And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that (I sure hope not since I’m an author and a Bible teacher,) if that’s the only foundation for our faith, we will be swayed by other people’s conclusions — as smart as they could be — instead of first engaging with God and learning from Him as we read His Word.

When we spend time diving into Scripture passages, inductively studying the context of verses and making observations, He reveals new insights. I’ve heard it said, “We can’t know the will of God if we don’t know the Word of God.” Wow, I need a pouring out of grace with that one because I’m often guilty of not spending enough time with Him!

Ultimately, I’m reminded of the golf ball day, of being “wise in my own eyes.” Our son was so sure he knew better, and I’m often right there with him. He earnestly believed his actions were correct, so he chose his opinions over my trusted authority. Isn’t that often our problem?

We confuse truth and opinion when we think we know better than the Word of God, but as the Lord continues to mold us, I pray we grow in righteousness as our own sins are revealed and that we utter wisdom and truth boldly without compromise.

Our family now laughs about that golf ball exchange, but it continues to serve as my tangible reminder that true wisdom is found at the foot of the cross, not at others’ feet.

Imitate What Is Good

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Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil, but what is good. The one who does good is of God; the one who does evil has not seen God.
3 John 11 (CSB)

Just as children learn to copy their parents’ behavior (both good and bad), we are the same with our Heavenly Father. When we have seen God and experienced His love and grace, we will start to look like Him, act like Him, love like Him, and welcome others as He did us. Earlier in the chapter, John commends Gaius, to whom this letter is written, that he has been walking in the truth and that it shows in the way he welcomed and treated fellow believers. In contrast, Diotrephes, refused to welcome them, going so far as to kick out from the church anyone who tried to do so.

John 13:35 says, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Our lives will bear fruit depending on whom we follow. As those who proclaim Christ as Lord and Savior, may our love for one another invite others to know Him too.

How have you seen glimpses of God in the Church or in your community recently?

When You Feel Rejected and Unseen

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The other day, an email popped up in my inbox, one I had been waiting for expectantly. It was from a popular podcaster, and I hovered my mouse over the subject line.

Weeks earlier, I had emailed the podcaster, asking her if she might consider having me as a guest to talk about some of the themes of a book I had written. I felt like my message was a perfect fit for her audience, so I had spent a lot of time crafting my pitch to her.

I clicked on the email and read her words. That’s when my heart sank a little: “Thank you for reaching out about being a guest on our show, but . . . ”

But.

There it was.

A great big — a-hem — but.

Thank you for reaching out, but we have plans to feature other guests this year.

A series of questions ran through my mind as I stared at the email: Didn’t she see the value in what I had to offer? Why did every other guest have something worthwhile to say but not me? Am I not good enough? Am I not relevant?

Later that day, I made the really poor choice to mindlessly scroll through Instagram, pausing long enough on photos of women who clearly were funnier, more relevant, and more interesting than me. I’ll bet that podcaster would love to have these women as guests!

Yes, this really was about as pathetic as you are imagining. (That’s why I almost didn’t tell you about the whole embarrassing thing.)

But then something else happened, and I knew I had to share my insecurities with you.

Over the next several days, I crossed paths with so many other women who were feeling set aside, overlooked, and invisible.

Two writers, with dreams of getting their books published, reached out to me and said they felt hopeless. All they had were stacks of rejections. They didn’t feel relevant.

A friend got passed over for a promotion at her office in favor of someone younger and, in her view, “more savvy.” She no longer felt relevant.

Another friend who’s a stay-at-home mom remarked that she felt invisible and underappreciated at home, like she just “blends into the furniture” — not at all the way she felt when she had a full-time job.

And then, a talented photographer that I follow on Facebook wrote these words to her followers: “Y’all, I am tired. And I am apparently invisible. . . . I’m going to take a break and go introvert for a while. I need some time to be okay with offering myself and my art into the world again, even if it’s not received.”

We aren’t alone in these feelings of invisibility, are we?

We look around sometimes and feel like everybody else has it all figured out. We wish we didn’t care so much about conventional popularity, but it feels like that’s the commodity for success and meaning in 2020.

Even the most popular person you know likely feels it, and no matter how high you climb, it seems like you’ve got to figure out a way to climb higher. In the race to matter more, we face the constant pressure to build online legacies and continually reinvent ourselves. And all of it is killing our focus and creativity because we’re afraid that what we have to offer will never truly be adequate.

This morning, I’d had enough of it all. I opened up the Bible, absolutely desperate for God to show me something —  anything — to help me push aside recurring feelings of irrelevance. I landed on the story of the woman in Luke 8 who had been tucked away in her house for twelve years, needing healing. It’s safe to say she probably felt unseen and unnoticed. When she heard that Jesus was coming, she stepped outside, took a chance, and touched the edge of Jesus’ cloak. Immediately, she was healed.

Pay close attention to what happened next: Jesus asked who had touched him. The woman knew right away that she had been found out.

“When the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet” (Luke 8:47 NIV, emphasis added).

Other versions of the Bible say it like this:

“She could not stay hidden.” (NLT)

“She had not escaped notice.” (AMP)

Here’s my favorite: “The woman saw that she was discovered.” (HCSB)

She was not a nameless face in the crowd after all.

She was someone who had just been “discovered” in the most remarkable way possible. Not like the latest, greatest Instagrammer. Not like the newest podcaster on the block. Not like the next big thing to hit YouTube.

She was discovered by Jesus, on account of her reaching out in desperation for Him alone.

We need that kind of healing today. Many of us are desperate to matter more. And when we admit it, that’s when we see clearly what matters most: Jesus.

I don’t know what your dreams are. I don’t know about your rejection. I don’t know the last time you felt invisible. Maybe it’s right now, in this moment. Reach out and touch the hem of Jesus’ robe, and know that you have been “discovered.” You are fully known, fully loved, fully relevant.

Three Things You Can Know About the Future — No Matter What

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As I wait for my flight, I watch the parade of people (this is before COVID-19 and quarantine). Disgruntled teenagers with caps pulled down over their eyes trail behind determined parents. Bright-eyed couples hold hands with the honeymoon sun still on their faces. A group of grey-headed ladies in pink matching t-shirts laugh and exchange stories while they sip coffee.

I wonder about all of them. Where have they come from? Where are they going?

I realize all over again in that moment God knows the answers. He sees every detail of our lives. He’s been with us in every step we’ve ever taken. This reassures me because no human knows what’s ahead. There are certain to be blessings and moments of happiness. There will also be hard days and tears shed. Some parts of our lives will stay much the same, and others, like it or not, will inevitably change.

A blond, little girl in pigtails walks by with a stuffed brown bear in her arms. Seeing her reminds me of the first time I flew by myself. I was only five years old when I marched up to the ticket counter with a little red suitcase in hand to tell the amused airline employee the plane needed to come so I could go see my grandma. My parents observed from close by and made sure every bit of the trip was in order.

These days, I carry a leopard print laptop bag, and I’ve flown away from my comfort zone many times. But on the inside, that younger self and I still have much in common. We want to know we’re safe, we’re loved, and we’re going to be okay. That’s what gives us the courage to pick up our bag and go.

Psalm 121:8 says, “The Lord will protect your coming and going both now and forever.” This is mysterious to me because difficult things happen, people get sick, and life doesn’t always work out the way I planned. But even if I don’t understand them fully, these words offer hope because whatever may transpire God is still taking caring of me.

Three hundred and sixty thousand people will arrive on this earth today. Some will depart. The other seven billion of us will go about our business — catching flights, rocking babies, showing up for work, and eating birthday cake.

And God will watch over it all. Every coming and going. Every beginning and end. Every dream come true and heartbreak. He has done this for all of history. He is doing so today. He will continue to do so every day of your life.

Here are three things you need to know about your future:

1) God will be there.

2) You will be loved.

3) Nothing will be too much for you and Jesus to overcome together.

You may not know exactly what’s ahead of you, but you can be absolutely certain of Who is with you. You are not a random passenger, nameless and unknown in the crowd of humanity. And the One who travels with you isn’t afraid of your tears, overwhelmed by your struggles or hesitant about entering into your happiness and celebrations.

We are beloved children of the God who breathed life into our lungs and who numbers every hair on our heads. So let’s go boldly into the next moment with the confidence that all things are possible and in the end all will be made right.

 

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Even Now, God Is to Be Found

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A loud laugh escapes my mouth, and I’m surprised by its unfamiliarity. It lifts and relaxes my body and spirit in a way I didn’t realize I needed. My six-year-old’s joke is unexpected in its wittiness and timing, and his face radiates delight over making me laugh so hard. I pull him in close and plant one too many kisses on his cheek, thankful for his sweet love and humor. The first few months of being at home together since the pandemic began were filled with anxiety and fear, grief and the constant tension of being in each other’s space. We longed for time alone while wanting to hold each other close and never let go. We all felt the precariousness of life, especially my son.

And still, somehow, this baby of mine has become a big kid before my own eyes. He understands how to meet others in their sadness, tender to their ache. He knows that being silly can brighten a moment, even if it can’t change the mood for long. He is quick to give hugs, full of energy I often can’t handle, and he reminds me there is hope for good, for joy.

And I need to know that joy is not only possible but that it can abound even now. For months, depression has hung around like a smoky haze during wildfire season. It’s kept me lethargic and unmotivated, struggling to create and keep up with deadlines. Just when I think it’s subsided and I have energy like that of my son’s, the sparks fizzle into nothing, and I’m back to the sluggish pace I wish to escape.

I manage to get done what I need to. I bake bread and play games with my family. I work and decorate the house for quarantine birthdays. I know how to function in survival mode even when I’m not well because I’ve done it so much in my life. I can live life on auto-pilot, and no one would know I’m struggling — not even me.

But laughter breaks me from the trance of survival. It makes me pause to be fully present in the moment with my son and to see that I live in the land of the living right now. It reminds me of how precious life is even while the world burns. Growth has not stopped, death has not taken everything from us, and we are still living.

And living for me right now — and all the time — looks like paying attention and being curious. When unrelenting knots form in my neck the weekend of my wedding anniversary, I pay attention and recognize what a difficult year of healing it has been. I voice my pain and care for myself with kindness. When my son is grumpy and crumbles into tantrums, I offer hugs instead of lectures knowing he feels left out from his sister needing space. When the din of social media and the news becomes louder than my soul can handle, I step away and look for glimpses of the divine.

I look for what will give me life so I can keep going. I ask myself what I need and get help where I can. Sometimes it looks like a video call with my therapist after being triggered by current events. It can look like napping when sleep was elusive the night before. It’s listening to a praise song that sings to me the truth I need to hear. And sometimes it’s as simple as sending a funny meme to a friend because I know she’d find it hilarious. We laugh together over text and agree that internet comedy is one of the many things we’re grateful for these days.

Jeremiah 29:13 says, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

Even when injustices don’t get rectified, when the healing we fervently prayed for doesn’t happen, when evil prospers, if we seek Him, we will find Him. Laughter reminds me that God is here in the complicated mess — a glimpse of the divine. And this is what I see: He is God of justice, God of comfort, God of miracles, God of joy.

What is giving you life or bringing you joy these days?

Walking with Jesus as Our Pacer

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When the sheltering-at-home orders began in March, we found ourselves together in the house all day long. On many spring and summer nights after dinner, I’d look at my husband and three daughters and say, “Let’s go for a walk.”

I may have well been saying, “I need to get out of here.” And my people all understood.

We would slip into flip flops and Birkenstocks and head out the front door. According to the dictionary, to walk means “to advance or travel on foot at a moderate speed or pace.”

Our pace was more of a stroll.

Unhurried and unharried, we did not walk with a specific purpose or agenda besides simply breathing some fresh air and being together. We would walk in groups of two or three and settle into a slow pace that enabled us to talk and observe.

My girls know I am a sunset chaser. Ever since my late husband Ericlee soared to heaven in 2014, I have found great comfort in the unique ways God paints the sky each night. The swirl of colors – sometimes in baby pastels, sometimes in richer, jewel tones – always reminds me that God is our Creator and holds all things in His hands.

Our family loves to serpentine through the neighborhood and follow the cul-de-sacs. We make a point of walking down that one street where roses line the walkway. We oooh and ahhh together at the roses twirling their petal skirts. We peek at the ripe fruit hanging over fences and check out the homes for sale.

In those early weeks, we noticed lots of other families were out too. We saw neighbors walking their dogs, groups of tweens riding their bikes and scooters, and even some grandparents ambling through the streets pushing babies in strollers. We waved and chatted socially-distanced, six feet (or more) apart.

We quickly realized these circumstances, which required so many to stay at home, were giving us more points of connection than ever before. We have only been living in this particular neighborhood for two years. My daughters observed there are way more kids living in our neighborhood than we had thought.

My heart also soared when I noted the cultural diversity among my neighbors. We passed many speaking in other mother tongues and with a diversity of skin tones. In an uncertain world, I felt somehow more at home in my own brown skin.

As we were simply putting one foot in front of the other, our little family also connected with each other more too. Sisters, who were frequently squabbling at the dinner table, were naturally linking arms and laughing together as they walked. I had more of a chance to unpack the day’s events and my heart’s worries with my husband Shawn.

Walking is an important mode of transportation mentioned frequently in the Bible. In a spiritual sense, walking with God means to abide with Him, obey His commands, and keep a deliberate pace, following His lead.

Adam and Eve hear God “walking in the garden” in Genesis 3:8. This very vivid description of God tells us something about our heavenly Father. Our all-powerful, all-knowing, omnipresent God longs for personal connection with His children. There is an intimacy that grows in walking together.

Throughout the Old Testament, we read accounts of people of faith walking with God. Enoch lived a total of 365 years walking with His heavenly Father. Genesis 5:24 says, “Enoch walked faithfully with God; then he was no more, because God took him away.”

In Genesis 6:9, we read about Noah walking with God: “Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked faithfully with God.” God was Noah’s pacer and gave him assurance as he built the ark with no sign of rain on the horizon.

Paul reminds us to walk with good form: “ . . . walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called,  with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,  eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Ephesians 4:1-3).

1 John 2:6 also highlights the concept of walking: “Whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked.” John is talking about daily living out our faith by following Jesus’ example.

Jesus deliberately chose to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with people. He was the Messiah-King, but He did not travel in a chariot or ride a majestic horse like other kings of His time. He didn’t tool around town in a Tesla or a limousine.

Jesus walked, and He invites each of us to follow Him.

He walked up a great hill carrying a cross and then died on that cross so that every one of us would have the invitation to walk across a path of grace and into heaven one day.

Friend, let Jesus pace you. Resist the urge to run ahead or lag behind. Instead, walk with Him.

 

In what ways has walking brought more connection for you with people or God?

 

Dorina just launched a new devotional book, Walk Run Soar. Sign up for her Glorygram newsletter and get all the insider details about her new book and podcast.

When You Feel Like You Take Up Too Much Space

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See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!
1 John 3:1 (NIV)

I love traveling. I love airports too. Flying, though? I hate flying. See, I’m overweight. And while that fact is always present in my thoughts, never am I more aware of my extra pounds than when I fly. I hate flying because I take up too much space.
If I have the choice, I always choose an aisle seat. I hold my breath and suck in my gut and pray that the seatbelt will latch. And then I spend the next few hours squeezing my legs together and digging my elbows into my sides as I try to avoid taking up any extra space — in the aisle, in the seats, in the air.

My scrunched-up and sucked-in body language, along with my apologetic glances and occasional “sorrys” after the inevitable bumps and elbow rubs, is one big apology.

I’m sorry for taking up too much space.
I’m sorry for being too big.
I’m sorry for being in the way.
I’m sorry I’m kind of sweaty from speed-walking to the gate.
I’m sorry I reached over you to turn on my fan.
I’m sorry my leg bumped your leg.
I’m sorry I’m in the way.
I’m sorry you have to sit by me.

Maybe you fit just fine in an airplane seat. Maybe it’s something else that makes you hunch your shoulders and stare at the ground with red cheeks, apologizing for part of who you are, for just being yourself.

Are you clumsy? Perpetually late? Awkward? Too talkative? Too loud? Too quiet? Too sarcastic? Too much? Too real? Too you?

No you aren’t. You are wonderful. You are loved. And when God looks at His creation (that’s you! and me!), He says, “It is very good.” Regardless of how anyone else sees us, we are God’s workmanship and masterpiece — and He lavishes His love on us.

If you’re tempted to apologize for who you are or how you are, please don’t. Remember that you have a right to be here, to take up space — in a conversation, on the airplane, in the grocery store aisle, at the moms group, in the world. And no matter how much space you take up or how you take up that space, you are welcome and wanted and loved.

Thank You, Lord, for being a safe place where I am called good, where I take up just the right amount of space, where I am seen and loved and welcome to be who I am, how I am, just as I am. Even saying that calms my heart and lets me breathe deeper. Give me the strength to truly recognize that no matter how anyone else sees me, I am God’s workmanship and masterpiece, and I am loved. Amen.

Written by Mary Carver, as published in Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay

Our devotional, Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay, is full of stories like this. Women sharing from the depth of their experience, pain, and eventual hope as they struggled through times when life was not okay.

We know that for many of us life isn’t okay right now. Everything is different, and the unknowns abound, which is why we see each story in this book as an offering of hope, from one heart to another.

Order Take Heart today!

Joy Is Contagious — Share It with the World Around You

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A few years ago, I took my daughter Chloe on a three-day trip to Mobile, Alabama, for a combined birthday/high school graduation trip. She knew we were going but not the destination until minutes before we hopped on a bus in downtown Atlanta. The biggest treat in store for her — for both of us, really — was concert tickets to see one of our favorite bands at the historic Saenger Theatre.

I didn’t tell Chloe about the concert immediately. I love surprises and couldn’t wait to see her face when she discovered this one. We strolled around town the evening before the show and I even walked up to the front of the theater, thinking that might give it away, but she didn’t notice the poster. 

Just hours before the show, I told her where I was taking her, and she was as excited as I’d hoped she’d be. We arrived early, bought our souvenirs, found our seats, and then walked around the beautiful old theater. We sat down and pulled out our phones, eager to notify the world where we were and what we were doing.

I noticed a couple in front of us trying to take a selfie, and I smiled at how happy they seemed to be there, just as we were. But when the concert began and we jumped to our feet, I realized how big the man in front of me was. I envisioned a night of shifting and straining to peek through the gaps and get glimpses of the stage.

I knew right then I could fixate on the challenge before me (literally) or decide to wring every drop of joy from a night I’d anticipated for four months.

I chose joy.

As it turned out, the guy in front of me may have been a big man but he was also a big fan. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone enjoy a concert so much. His enthusiasm was infectious, a contagious source of joy to those around him.

My daughter FaceTimed a friend when the band performed one of our favorite songs, and our happiness took wing, flying through the night and across the miles, back home to Georgia. The man next to us got such a kick out of Chloe’s friend laughing and dancing on the other end of that line, two friends sharing a moment and a song — joy multiplied.

In spite of the visual obstacle, I enjoyed this concert the most of the four times I’d seen this band.

At the hotel, we took the elevator with a different couple who’d been there too. The woman’s experience was the exact opposite of mine: total disappointment. Her problem wasn’t the performance but the company. She had sat in the balcony surrounded by less-than-avid fans, and it stole her joy.

Not only is joy contagious, but its absence leaves a void.

While we can’t control the people around us or our surroundings, we do determine how we react to things beyond our control. Choosing joy when anger or frustration comes easier takes both work and intention. When the Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Philippi, he instructed them to choose joy, which is only possible if its source is the Lord and not our circumstances:

Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice.
Philippians 4:4 (KJV)

Sisters, let’s not only choose joy but chase it too. What a brighter world we’ll leave in our wake if we open our hearts to true joy, let it fill us up, and then fling it wide into a waiting world.

 

To Him Who Keeps Us From Stumbling

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Now to him who is able to protect you from stumbling and to make you stand in the presence of his glory, without blemish and with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority before all time, now and forever. Amen.
Jude 24-25 (CSB)

We stumble through life, making mistakes, falling into temptations, sinning, and learning the depth and breadth of God’s grace. We look forward to the day when we will be fully redeemed, but in the meantime, God doesn’t leave us on our own to figure things out. He is able to protect us, strengthen us, teach us and guide us to the day we will stand in His glorious presence.

God, our Savior, You understand our humanness. Thank You for not separating Yourself from us even when we sin and when we stumble along. Instead, You come in close, show us the truth, and invite us to live by grace. Your never-ending patience reminds us that we can trust You won’t ever abandon us and leave us to our own demise. When You intervene, may we be open to Your correction and guidance. May we be humble enough to recognize where we’ve gone wrong and repent. And may we be willing to be transformed from glory to glory until we stand in Your presence and see You face to face. Amen. 

An Act of Courageous Simplicity

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Now a woman suffering from bleeding for twelve years had endured much under many doctors. She had spent everything she had and was not helped at all. On the contrary, she became worse. Having heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his clothing. For she said, “If I just touch his clothes, I’ll be made well.” Instantly her flow of blood ceased, and she sensed in her body that she was healed of her affliction.

At once Jesus realized in himself that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”

His disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing against you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’”

But he was looking around to see who had done this. The woman, with fear and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. “Daughter,” he said to her, “your faith has saved you. Go in peace and be healed from your affliction.”
Mark 5:25-34 (CSB)

Twelve YEARS. For twelve years this woman had suffered, bleeding without relief. Because women were considered unclean during their menstrual cycles during ancient times, it’s likely she had spent those years not just weak and possibly in pain, but shunned and isolated, with no one willing to touch her or come near. Desperation had sent her to doctor after doctor through the years, but not one had been able to help her. Instead, we’re told, her condition had gotten worse.

Though we don’t know what treatment this woman had been given in her pursuit of healing, we know that she had “endured much” and was sicker than ever before. The treatment for her affliction may have actually been just as harmful as her illness itself, and yet her desperation pushed her to continue seeking out a remedy. By the time she heard about Jesus she was likely weak, discouraged, and afraid. But this didn’t stop her from trying one more time.

Used to being unseen, unwanted, and untouchable, the woman did not approach Jesus. She did not look Him in the eye and ask for help. She did not cry out in her pain, begging for help. A leader and teacher like Him knew full well He could not come near someone unclean, so she probably assumed.

Instead of inviting Him near her, she kept to the shadows, walking behind Him and reaching out, merely touching His clothing for help, and probably hoping He would not notice. In that moment she found the strength to hope again, to reach for the help she so dreadfully needed, and to believe that healing might still be possible. That hope led her to the Savior and Healer, the only One who could give her true relief.

Her hope — and maybe her healing — gave the woman courage. When Jesus felt power leave Him, He asked who had touched Him. The woman did not hide or run away, though she may have wanted to out of habit. Instead, she fell on her knees before her Healer and Savior and confessed. She didn’t know how He would react or what He would do to her, but she had integrity and respect for the One who had finally cured her disease. What a relief it must have been when Jesus looked at her and simply said, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.”

Perhaps you, too, are suffering an affliction that keeps you isolated and seems incurable. Perhaps you have struggled with something for years — physical or emotional or spiritual or relational — seeking help around every corner but finding no relief at all. Maybe you’ve been fighting a battle for so long that you’ve traded your determination and desperation for resignation and resentment. Don’t give up hope, friend! Don’t settle for distance between you and the Lord; don’t begin believing that isolation is all there is for you.

The beauty of the bleeding woman’s story is that it illustrates how ready Jesus is to heal us. He doesn’t require us to make a formal request; He doesn’t demand that we make payments or promises. He simply wants us to reach out to Him with hope. If we reach out to Him, like the woman of this story reached for His clothing, He will respond. His reaction to our faith and need is reflexive; our faith in His ability to step in activates a loving response from Him every time. He may not heal us in the timing or in the way that we assume is best, but He will not ignore us. He will not leave us bleeding in the road. He will respond to us with grace and peace and help when we need it most.

After years of suffering, after spending everything she had, after being disappointed over and over, this woman still had hope. She still believed that the man she’d heard of, the one teaching and performing miracles, could help her. She still had enough faith to brave a crowd, a reprimand, and another letdown. And this time, it was worth it. Her hope for healing led to her faith in the Healer, and she found freedom from all her afflictions that day. May we be as bold in our belief and as hopeful in our pursuit of help and care from the Lord.

Written by Mary Carver, as published in Women of Courage: a Forty-Day Devotional, from the (in)courage community.

Impacting Others Like Ripples Across the Water

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In January of 2016, My husband and I made the drive from Northern Virginia to Southern Maryland to spend an evening with family. While the meal was being prepared, my brother, Dan, sister-in-law, Kayla, and I stood in the corner of the kitchen, talking and laughing, as usual. I shared about our recent move and our search for connection. I shrugged and explained that I knew the importance of community, but I just didn’t know how to find it. My brother, six years younger yet so much wiser, said, “If you want to build community and make connections, you need to serve.”

His new wife, Kayla, smiled and nodded. She was living out her mission to love God and others by serving on their church’s hospitality team. She knew a simple cup of coffee could forge a connection, bring a smile, and create community.

I didn’t know the impact this single conversation would soon have on my life. Seeing Dan and Kayla together warmed every heart who knew them. They were brought together by God to impact His Kingdom far beyond what we could comprehend. Dan’s words stayed with me as we traveled back home in search of that community I was craving. I thought about the way he had dedicated his life to serving God and the church through his talent as a musician. In following God’s lead, he was able to bless others with the gifts God had given him. At ages twenty and twenty-one, they both had a clear understanding of where they were meant to be, and it was inspiring to watch them live each day with purpose and intentionality.

One month later, on Valentine’s Day, we received the devastating news that Dan and Kayla had been in a car accident. On their way home from their six-month wedding anniversary dinner, a driver under the influence struck their vehicle, and Dan and Kayla had gone home to be with the Lord.

Our world stood still. We tried to wrap our minds around a future that wouldn’t look anything like the one we had pictured. Each morning brought new waves of grief, and still, as I read the Psalms and prayed for strength, I felt the Lord closer than ever. Losing two people so rooted in their purpose created in me the strongest desire to follow their lead and pursue God’s purpose for my life. A new perspective emerged from my brokenness. For the first time, I craved heaven more than anything on earth.

As my perspective shifted, so did my desire to live differently. I continued to pray for an opportunity to serve the way they did. I loved my career in interior design but felt the pull to pursue something more ministry-minded. In a leap of faith, I left my job and begin the search for a home-based business. Late one evening, my search brought me to the Mary & Martha website for the very first time. I opened the page to find beautiful home decor, Scripture, and a message that read “Welcome, Serve, Connect.” My eyes welled with tears. In my head, I heard Dan’s voice. In my heart, I felt God’s nudge. Purpose-filled products that aligned with my passion. Christ-centered community. Connection. A place to serve. In the midst of my deepest sorrow, my heart was filled with joy to find a place like this.

Within Mary & Martha, I connected with a beautiful sisterhood all across the U.S. I was instantly surrounded by like-minded women who lifted me up, prayed for me, and came alongside me in living out my calling. Four months later, I attended Mary & Martha’s national conference, and stepping into that conference room felt like coming home. Full of warmth, joy, and worship, the weekend with this community was an answer to prayer. They were on a mission to serve and embraced the call to love God and others in all they do.

At the end of the conference, we were handed a beautiful quote by Roy Lessin, co-founder of our parent company, DaySpring. It read, “When a stone is dropped into a lake, it quickly disappears from sight — but its impact leaves behind a series of ripples that broaden and reach across the water. In the same way, the impact of one life lived for Christ leaves behind an influence for good that touches the lives of many others.”

I saw this firsthand through Dan and Kayla’s beautiful lives. I knew that God had led me to Mary & Martha to continue the ripple of good they had begun. Knowing God is in control and working through us in this way brings me peace.

Loss has taught me that every day, every moment, and every conversation matters. As Christ-followers, we are called to reach across our communities, to impact them like ripples across the water. My prayer is that you would be encouraged to build community, make connections, and serve as you live out God’s unique purpose for you.

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.
1 Peter 4:10 (NIV)

What a beautiful story from Jess! Imagine being part of a faith-based company where you create your own schedule, share inspirational products, earn unlimited income, and belong to a sisterhood of women! If you’d like more information, discover the Mary & Martha difference today!

And to get a glimpse of their wonderful products, Mary & Martha is giving away FIVE of these printed canvas magnetic signs, valued at $98! Comment below with what you loved hearing about their company for a chance to win!

 

Giveaway closes 11:59pm CST on October 14. US addresses only. 

The Day I Had a Panic Attack at Costco

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I was having a panic attack right there at Costco.

It had been years since my last one. I’d shared about my journey of healing from emotional childhood trauma and learning to rest in God’s love in my book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. I thought my wounds had healed. But as I was working on my new book proposal, preparing to share more vulnerable stories, I went shopping at Costco one day, and after realizing I had forgotten milk, I turned my cart around to go get it when bam! I came face to face with someone who had hurt me from my past. This person had caused deep wounds, taking me years of therapy to heal. I hadn’t seen this person in years since I had learned to establish safe boundaries to keep myself from being harmed through verbal and emotional abuse.

My eyes locked with this person’s, and though I’d wondered if this person would ever soften, what I saw before me made me afraid. My heart rate jumped, pounding like a jack hammer against my chest. I didn’t want to stand there to be hurt again, so I made a beeline and zipped to the back of the store. I am a college-educated, grown mom of two boys. Yet, I hid behind the store shelves. I started having trouble breathing. I was dizzy and nauseous, choking and unable to take full breaths. My body lit on fire, tears pushing from deep.

As I stood there, afraid this person was searching for me in the store to chew me out, I felt God whisper, You are my beloved. You don’t have to hide. You are my daughter.

I didn’t want to call my husband Eric at work because he had critical deadlines, so I decided to find the store manager.

I found Mike.

I was shaky, trembling, and asked, “Hi, this is a weird request, but I need help. I ran into someone from my past who emotionally hurt me, and I’m scared they’ll cause a scene. Maybe they’re waiting for me outside to yell at me. Can you escort me to my car?”

“I won’t let this person hurt you. You are safe. I will help you.” Mike said.

You are safe.

At the sound of these three words, I started crying out of his kindness. God was reassuring me through Mike’s words. ”I’m so embarrassed,” I confessed.

“Don’t be. You’re not the only one who runs into people here who need support. Exes, family members . . . people.” he replied.

Mike looked at me and said, ”I won’t let them hurt you.”

As we left the store, Mike kept reassuring me, saying, “It’s going to be okay,” as he walked me to my car and loaded my groceries in the trunk.

Relieved to know I was safe, I turned to him to share a little more about my story of emotional hurt and healing. I shared how much his kindness and his words meant to me, so he would understand the significance when I said, “You are God’s blessing to me today. Thank you so much, Mike!”

I took a moment to ask him about his thoughts on faith. We chatted a bit. I listened. It turned out that I encouraged Mike too, because he felt so encouraged to know God was using him to bless others.

Friend, I share this story with you to encourage you today. I want you to know that you are worth loving. You can ask for help and draw boundary lines with toxic people. God desires to restore your wholeness and to heal you from your wounds. Sometimes, this will happen through the people He places in your life, so take a step of faith when they cross your path. Be open and receive.

And when you can offer the same kindness to another, pause and be present. Be a refuge and shelter so others can experience God’s comfort.

We are not alone in this journey of life. We are God’s beloved, and we do not need to be afraid.

For I am with you and no one will attack and harm you, because I have many people in this city.
Acts 18:10 (NIV)

How has someone been kind to you during these hard days? How can you be God’s kindness to someone else?

What is your story, friend? Join me in a FREE Online Writer’s Conference where I’ll help you write the God-story in you! Register here to watch free – starting today! Want peace from anxiety? Sign up for my FREE Overcoming Anxiety Webinar here. Share these great resources to encourage your friends!

The Compliment You Should Desire Most

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When I was a little girl, my favorite thing to hear was that I was weird. Whether the words came affectionately from the lips of my mom or as a critical observation from the kid across the street, I didn’t care. “You’re so weird” made me beam — because I was weird.

I was a girl who happily (and confidently) marched to the beat of my own unrhythmic drum.

When I was seven years old, the year was 1989, and neon green biker shorts with a black polka dot skirt and a fluorescent pink tank top was my favorite outfit. But I took the typical bright 80’s color scheme to my own Becky level. I was sure to compliment my outfit with my beloved canvas dinosaur sneakers I got in the boys’ section. The shoes had boring white laces that didn’t meet my high fashion standards so I swapped them out for primary red.

Add to this charming ensemble the fact that I convinced my older sister to braid my hair in three sections and then crimp my bangs, and weird was probably the word that came to everyone’s mind.

At the tender age of seven, I had yet to grow a self-conscience bone. I was just me. Tree-climbing, alphabet-burping, puzzle-solving, book-loving, roller-blading Becky. And I was hungry for affirmation of what I knew was true — that I was perfectly, wonderfully, and weirdly made.

Gosh, I was a great kid.

At thirty-eight, I’m still great, but somewhere between then and now, my hunger for compliments shifted. Somewhere along the way I stopped wanting to be seen for exactly me, and I started striving to please others.

Instead of weird, I wanted to be beautiful. Instead of unique, I wanted to be accepted, influential, admirable, successful. I started caring about others liking me more than I cared about liking myself.

And even deeper than that, I started forgetting who God said I am — perfectly and wonderfully made — and I tried to cram myself into a mold that wasn’t made for me.

Have you done this too?

It’s natural for our childhood selves to mature into adolescents with greater self-awareness and then into adults with age-appropriate inhibitions. But that doesn’t mean shoving down, casting out, or numbing over the parts of ourselves that make us stand out for the sake of blending in or receiving positive recognition.

If you’re a dreamer, don’t cram yourself into the box of an analytical thinker.
If you’re loud, don’t let the world stifle your voice.
If you’re vibrant, don’t dull your edges.
If you’re intellectual or artsy or stoic or outdoorsy, don’t let an outside voice tell you that another personality or strength is more valuable and attractive.

The amazing thing about God is that He doesn’t make mistakes. Your shyness is on purpose. Your love for a good debate is intentional. Your fast talking or slow processing is not a mistake.

Do we each have areas where we need to grow? Absolutely! We are all on a journey of being refined and becoming more like Christ. But, friend, learning to love and look more like Jesus doesn’t negate the essential beauty of who you are already are.

One of my favorite quotes is credited to Saint Irenaeus, a 2nd century Greek bishop, who said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”

God receives glory when we’re living into and out of the fullness of who He’s made us to be. Have you ever known someone who just sparkles? Who shines from the inside out, not because of what they did because of Who is in them? The Creator gets the glory when His creation stays true to His intentional design.

For it was you who created my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will praise you because I have been remarkably and wondrously made.
Your works are wondrous, and I know this very well.
Psalm 139:13-14 (CSB)

Do you know that you are God’s remarkable creation? If the belief has slipped into the cracks of time, let me be the one to remind you. Sister, the way God made you is wondrous! You are distinct. Set apart. A one-of-a-kind masterpiece!

What would happen if you lived like it?

These days I’m re-learning how to let the bright and bold confidence of my youth reemerge. I wear the vibrant turquoise tennis shoes that clash with most outfits. I make up silly songs and sing them off-key in the kitchen with my kids. I stay quiet when people expect me to speak. I keep writing about Jesus even if it’s not the popular thing.

I think it’s okay that I no longer want to be known as weird. Instead, I just want to be known as loved.

You are so loved.

Yes, that’s the greatest truth we could spend our lives walking to. When we walk with the assurance that we are God’s beloved daughters — holy and chosen and wonderfully made — we can be confident marching to whatever kind of rhythm and beat He gives us.