When We Don’t Have the Words to Pray: Threadbare Prayer Book Giveaway!

When We Don’t Have the Words to Pray: Threadbare Prayer Book Giveaway!

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My girlfriend was in town for a short visit with her family, and I wanted our lunch to be perfect. Our time together was precious to me, and I intended to make the most of it. I arrived at one of my favorite lunch spots a few minutes early to make sure we had just the right place to talk. I snagged a table by the window, ordered my salad and lemon cookie, and settled in to wait.

I began thinking about what I should share and how deep I should go in our limited time together. My husband had recently been released from the hospital, and we were trying to figure out how to return to some sort of normal life for our family of six. I knew my friend would be coming with her own story of loss and grief, and I wondered how I could share without adding to the burdens she was already carrying.

In the middle of my thoughts, I saw her walk through the doors. We hugged, and she ordered her lunch. To say I was grateful we were able to get a lunch date on the calendar would be an understatement. She was a brand-new mom and on a tight schedule. I was glad to simply sit at the same table with her, finding comfort even in the silences between our sentences. God had woven our lives together in extraordinary ways over the last couple of years as we each went through our share of heartache. It had been as though we were volleying support back and forth across an invisible tennis net. When she struggled, I was there for her, and vice versa. We had been stretched thin, and we were both now threadbare.

We quickly got through our meal, covering all the easy subjects before we dove into the hard ones. Eventually, I asked her pointedly, “How are you doing — really doing?” She paused as if searching for the right words and looked down at her hands before making eye contact with me.

“I’m not sure. This trial just felt so . . . personal.”

I understood exactly what she meant. Sometimes, trials feel as though they were tailor-made in such specific ways to cause us pain.

I exhaled and said, “I’m sorry. Maybe it feels personal because it just is.”

Since that day, her words have often come to mind, and I’ve gotten more honest with the Lord, telling Him that my trials feel personal and asking Him to help me make sense of it. And bit by bit, He has been taking my threadbare heart and doing that very thing. I offer Him my pain and confusion, my disappointment and worry, and He offers me comfort and hope through, what I call, Threadbare Prayers. These are prayers For the days when we most desperately need prayer but don’t have the words to form them, #threadbareprayerbook is the guide you need. Enter to win a copy!

That day, after our too-quick lunch date, I asked my friend to give me a verse so I could write a personal Threadbare Prayer especially for her. She shared with me Psalm 3:3:

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head.

And this is the prayer I wrote for her:

Lord, it wasn’t the first sign of trials that sent me headlong into a pit. But it was the second, fourth, fifth rounds that have greatly discouraged me. Still, I find deep encouragement in knowing that when I come to the end of myself, You are not exhausted. Instead, I can face the enemy, my fears, any trial that comes my way because You wrap me up in Your embrace and provide abundantly in Your presence. You lift my eyes upward, and I know on my worst days and in my fiercest battles that I can cry out to You. I can rest easy knowing that the battle belongs to You.

And for the days when my friend finds herself lacking words to pray, I gave her this Threadbare Prayer: Lord, You wrap me up safe.

A simple prayer can carry us through hard days and seasons. Perhaps you’re in a place where you’ve also come to the end of yourself and need help to pray. Take this Threadbare Prayer then too, and may it remind you that you are embraced, held up by the loving arms of God.

 

In Threadbare Prayer: Prayers for Hearts that Feel Hidden, Hurt, or Hopeless, Stacey Thacker presents 100 simple yet heartfelt devotions to guide you on the days you don’t know what to pray. Each entry in this attractive, gift-worthy devotional contains a Bible verse, a brief thought, and a simple, concise prayer to encourage the reader’s heart.

If you purchase two copies of Threadbare Prayer, Stacey will send you the companion five-day Bible study, The Mender: A Bible Study for Threadbare Hearts. To receive the study, complete this form (Offer ends November 30, 2020).

We know it’s been a very threadbare year for many, so we want to give away FIVE copies of Threadbare Prayer to five of you! Comment below with a verse that you’ve been holding onto in this season for a chance to win.

Giveaway closes October 9 at 11:59pm CST. Open to US addresses only.

What We Can Learn from the Leaves

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As long as the earth remains, there will be planting and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night.
Genesis 8:22 (NLT)

Here in Minnesota, the sticky-hot, long days of summer stretch deep into September, then finally in October the nighttime and early morning air gives way to a chill.

And that’s when the trees know winter is coming. They prepare for it from the inside out.

This knowledge that the trees have feels important, kind of enormous. The trees flourish and reveal their truest selves as their leaves are dying. God has built truth and theology into trees, and I want to sit at their roots and learn.

How do the leaves know when to drop their guard of green and give into the process of dying to themselves? Why do they trust the timing each and every year? Do they lean into it, or do they fight back, stubborn in giving into the inevitable blaze of color?

My eight-year-old loves playing the “Did you know?” game. He loves taking in random trivia and facts, then busting them out in any silence he encounters. It gives me joy when I can mix it up and slip a “Did you know?” of my own in for him. Friends, did you know that most leaves are not inherently green? The green is the cover up. Their green color comes from the presence of a chemical called chlorophyll that thrives in warmer climates and weather. We think of leaves most often as green, yet deep inside the leaf are other chemicals — each with a different color. When the shortened sunlight of autumn returns, the chlorophyll backs off and lets the other chemicals (colors) shine.

Isn’t that incredible? This article sums it up: “Along with the green pigment are yellow to orange pigments, carotenes and xanthophyll pigments which, for example, give the orange color to a carrot. Most of the year these colors are masked by great amounts of green coloring.”

What we think of as a death — the leaves giving in to the coming cold and dying — is actually them revealing their truest selves.

The weather reflects a gradual change. It’s cool; the breezes are still; but deep down at their roots, the trees know major change is coming. They know they are to be robing themselves in color, preparing for a brand-new season of beauty — while some remain green. Are they the ones fighting back, pushing against what they truly are deep inside?

It sounds senseless to fight for remaining faded and tired instead of bursting gold, red, and orange. Instead, we hope the leaves cast off their wilted end-of-summer green and embrace what is deep down in the core, the beauty God has placed there to reveal in His time.

Maybe in the middle of our own everyday mess, mixed right into the struggles, God is preparing us for something. Maybe He wants us to choose to take hold, to dig deeper, to look beyond the mess and frustration, to become the best version of ourselves, to reflect with unquestionable certainty the glory hidden in our hearts because of where God first chose to take up residence.

Let’s yield to living color, the kind that shines brightest when dying to self has happened first.

Lord, may the change quietly filling the air spark the same in my heart. May I allow it to wash over my life, brightening each nook and cranny and sweeping the corners clean of staleness. May cool air fill my lungs as I breathe in Your grace and breathe out the old. May I learn, embrace, marvel at what the trees know. Amen.

This devotion first appeared in Anna Rendell’s book, Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul. Anna welcomed a new baby this fall! Take a peek at her beautiful family!

How can you give in to the work God is doing quietly in your heart?

Love Over All: Love Overcomes

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I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart! I have overcome the world.
John 16:33 (NIV)

Every month of 2020, we introduce a new verse and look at a different aspect of what it means to put on Love Over All. We love everything about Love Over All (read more about it here) and can’t wait to share these amazing verses and ways to live them out with you!

October’s theme is Love Overcomes.

“In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus said.

And all the sisters and saints said amen. The reality of the world’s brokenness has been evident since the world began. It was true when Jesus walked the dusty earth with His disciples, and it’s true as true can be in 2020.

But Jesus didn’t stop there. Trouble is our reality, but so is victory. “Take heart!” Jesus said. “I have overcome the world.”

When Jesus died on the cross, He proclaimed, “It is finished.” His death and resurrection laid death in its grave. Because of His love, grace, and our adoption as His children, we are given the ultimate gift of eternal life with Him forever. His triumph is our victory too. These truths are fundamental and foundational to our faith, but often, we find ourselves missing out on the victory in the struggle and mundaneness of our ordinary days.

Daily circumstances lead us to wonder things like, How do live with exceptional joy when we face such difficult circumstances? How do we practically live out God’s love and share it with others when our hearts are breaking, our country is shaking, and when we’ve lost jobs or health or hope? How do we look beyond today to live with a perspective of eternity and take heart right where we are?

We look to Jesus. We keep our eyes locked on Him. We remember what He has already done and what He will yet do!

Putting on love over all means remembering that Jesus has not only overcome death but He also daily fights our battles with us. In the middle of the hurt, He invites us to take heart, come near to Him, and hold tight to His promises. He invites us to be messengers of His love and victory just by showing up and loving others.

What are you overcoming in love?

For the Forgotten, Unwanted, Abandoned and Alone

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I know the feeling of walking into a room and your presence going unnoticed. After months of COVID-19, I know what it’s like to be completely forgotten. I know what it’s like to have friends walk away, siblings drift apart, and job promotions pass you by. I’ve been trapped in the torturous cycle of beauty comparison and house envy. So often, I feel like I am on the outside. No matter what I do or how much I try, I cannot seem to find my place. I cannot drop the weight, finish the task, or make people happy. I know the feeling of pressing my face on a glass wall, always looking in but never good enough to enter.

For all of us outsiders, the call is to lean in close and to know how God sees us. We have to remember the desperate lengths God went to in order to make the broken incredibly beautiful. When we lose sight of how God really sees us, we actually cannot see at all. We need our eyes refocused and adjusted to see the truth. It is so easy to become self-focused and turn inwards. Yet God wants to take our backs bent crippling over and stretch us up outward and open to Him. So for today, if you are feeling self-critical or discouraged, ugly, or unwanted, let us remember how God pursued those who felt just like us.

Arched over the entire Bible, God writes a love story for the one on the outside. Hagar was a servant, cast out and alone. God found her, pursued her, and rescued her. Leah, her name meaning “weary,” was the ugly sister and married to a man who did not love her back. Yet God saw her deepest heart’s desire and blessed her with an abundance of children.

The Lord saw Hannah, sobbing and heartsick for a baby. He heard her and answered. Esther, an orphan, became a queen and saved a nation. Mary, the mother of Jesus, was not even given a proper place to birth a baby, but God provided constant provision for her. The woman at the well, covered in shame, sought refreshment and reprieve. When she came face to face with Jesus, He told her everything she had ever done, and she became free. Martha was anxious and concerned with work, and Jesus invited her to rest.

Over and over again, God moves towards the forgotten, lonely, and unwanted. Over and over again, He sees the hearts of the beaten up, battered, and afraid. He goes out of His way to meet them in their fear and desperation. God is for the outsider, and we can find ourselves in each story of God’s rescue.

How many of us are abandoned, broken, and put out? How many of us huddle at our own shame wells and hope no one sees our sins? How often do we beg God to turn what is infertile to new life?

God is after us, friends. In our places of greatest despair, He chases us down. In our quiet longings and greatest defeats, He moves toward us. If you are feeling discouraged today, look upwards and backwards. Look at all the women in the Bible who have walked the path before you. Lean in close to Christ leaning in toward you. Perhaps your point of pain is the intersection He is waiting at to bring you into His deep, unending love for you.

The Stories Hiding Under the Surface 

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There’s a story I tell often. I can tell it in a self-deprecating manner that makes people laugh. But the story under the surface — the one that represents my hidden pain — is so much harder to tell. 

Once, I decided I wanted a kitten. For months, I researched how to be a good cat owner. I threw myself into this idea. I called kitten foster moms, I read online forums, I researched the best litter boxes, I asked my cat-owning friends for advice. I believed I could do this, and I believed I could be good at it. 

The only problem was: I’d forgotten I don’t like cats. 

Instead of buying one kitten, I bought two. (Go big or go home, right?) I’d read on some cat blog that kittens are better in pairs because they take care of each other. Terrible advice.

At eight-weeks-old, they resembled fluffy, hyper balls of fur. I drove them back home, took them up to my apartment, and let them free from their cage. And then, as I watched them scamper across my floor, it dawned on me with fresh horror: I don’t like cats. I actually don’t care for pets at all. And I had just bought two of them. 

My friend, Michelle, came by a few hours later to visit the kittens. She found me curled up on my apartment floor, crying. 

“Aliza,” she asked when she opened the door. “What’s wrong?” 

The kittens were jumping on my couch. My eyes were rimmed from crying. “I forgot I hate cats,” I cried to her. “And I just bought two of them! I’m going to be stuck with them for at least twenty years!” 

It was never about the cats. The cats were just a covering for the pain I was feeling. There was something much deeper happening within me.

I was in the midst of grieving my friend’s death and smack-dab in the center of my pain from a sexual assault a few years earlier. The grief over both was too much for me. I just wanted to do something that would take my mind off of it for a while. I wanted to feel tangible love — to love something and have it love me in return. 

I stared at the kittens ransacking my apartment. I realized afresh — sharply, pointedly — that nothing else was going to help me get over my pain. 

I couldn’t move past it. I had to move through it instead. The thought of that felt like my chest was splitting in half. 

We do this often. We use alcohol or scrolling Instagram or pornography or bingeing Netflix or buying cats as our way of trying to forget the stories sitting just under the surface of our hearts. But the distractions never heal us like we want them to. We don’t think we can tell these stories — they feel too vulnerable, too tender to share. We treat our symptoms with distractions instead of tenderly uprooting the cause. 

We think we can mask our pain, but the only way out is through.

I gave the kittens back the next day. When I was back and alone in my quiet apartment once again, I took a deep breath. I got down on my floor. I looked up at my ceiling, and tears poured down my face. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Jesus. The cats didn’t help me. Netflix doesn’t help me. I think I have to feel all of my pain instead. I’m terrified. I need you.”

Over time, I decided to speak my story — the real story of pain and sexual assault and grief — out loud. It took me so long to gather the courage. It started quietly, on a summer evening in a living room with a friend. Then I took it to a counselor’s office. Slowly, I dug it out from under the surface, painfully and tenderly.

We have stories we try to keep under the surface, but those stories are begging to be set free. Give them breath. Show them the light of day. Tell them to someone — just one person. You can start quiet and slow. Choose to take just one step into the light. 

The truth — slowly, carefully, and over time — will set you free. 

And every single step you take towards the truth — every single time you dig your story out from under the surface —  Jesus will be walking right beside you.

What Breaks and Remakes Us

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My family moved to Japan the summer I turned six. It’s in Tokyo where I learned how to walk busy city streets, ride a bike, squish into a packed subway, and read line maps to travel to see friends all by myself.

In the beginning, Japan’s unfamiliarity elicited fear in me, but with struggle and time, I would come to fall in love with the way she smelled and tasted — from the scent of dashi sneaking from homes and restaurants, the way cold zaru soba noodles slid down my throat on humid summer days to the unmatchable joy of opening a foil-wrapped, steaming, roasted sweet potato from the yaki-imo truck that graced our street on crisp autumn days. Though I wouldn’t have chosen her, Japan fed me through my formative years.

My parents spent hours telling me what Japan would be like before the move, and I resisted all of it with every ounce of my kindergarten wits and strength by frequently stomping my foot on the ground and giving long five-year-old speeches about how I wouldn’t move and why it was a bad idea. No matter what I said or did, they listened, but we packed up and moved anyway.

Over the last eleven years, my husband and I have witnessed all three of our kids learning to face transitions and change. As we’ve watched them barreling head-first into whatever new scenarios have come their way, we’ve held our breath and remembered the ways we resisted transition in our own lives. Fear can have a rigid, tight grip, and it’s hard to forget how it holds us down and tries to keep us.

So, last spring, when our family of five was sheltering in place for the first time, I watched how each of our kids responded to the unfamiliar. Every change and transition in those slow months of spring-turned-summer, was another blow. The initial tenderness and hope alongside the fear, anger, and grief melted and melded into a weight of pure exhaustion for all of us. It felt like none of our bodies and minds could ever catch up with the news or all of our feelings. It reminded me of the way moving to another culture starts with a honeymoon phase, then moves into a phase of hostility, slow adjustments, and eventually, adaptation. After the novelty of the honeymoon phase, the newness feels more like one punch in the face after another.

Sometimes I want my kids to move through all of those stages as quickly as I can explain them. Sometimes I still expect that of myself. I expect the information and my own experience to be enough of a guide for them and me. But it’s the experience of living through each of these stages and meeting God’s new mercies day in and day out that draws us near to God, beckons us to surrender, and has the power to transform us.

In the midst of our world facing the ongoing devastation and impact of a global pandemic, the tension of our upcoming national election, and the severe polarization of people in our nation, we’re all responding differently: our hearts hang heavy for the world, we resist our own national and personal shifts, we grasp for control or distraction, and our hostility towards one another rings loud and clear.

Nothing is the same as it was back then. Seven months later, here we are, however fractured, exhausted, angry, or adjusting, and all of us are offered new mercies each day.

Leaving Japan wasn’t the last time I left something kicking and screaming. I look back now, and see how the gaping blank space of every loss wasn’t just stretched wide for aching but also for a holy remaking.

After our move, my mom started adding her own version of Japanese curry and tongkatsu to our weekly dinner rotation. Instead of city streets, I got used to finding glittery snail trails on the driveway of our Californian rental home, visiting the little avocado tree in our backyard, and enjoying weekends at the beach.

We invited Japanese college exchange students to live in our home with us, and every time I watched them bow or slide their shoes off at the front door in exchange for our Korean house slippers, it was as if someone handed me a tiny balm of healing.

Through every stage of shock and transition, God is with us. He is the one who listens, steadies us, keeps us, shelters us, and moves us forward anyway. He is the one who offers to take all that was, every tear shed for what was lost, and all that now is, and make something new. No matter how homesick we feel or how acutely aware of how far from home we are, God gives us little homecomings to sustain us along the way.

We’ll get there — one morning of mercy at a time, even if it takes a little while.

Take Heart, He Has Overcome

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None of us are immune to the burdens and pains of this life. Though we have a God who loves us, we all experience loss, hardship, and disappointment. And in the midst of it all, it might feel as though we’re all alone, with no one to understand us, no one to guide us, no one to let us know they’ve been there too.

Sometimes, in those seasons of life that ache beyond words, we just want to hear that it’s okay to not feel okay. We want to know we’re not alone in this chasm of loneliness we stand in. We want to be held by arms that bear the scars of similar wounds.

In our most vulnerable moments, we need more than pithy statements that attempt to assure us that all will be well. Instead, we need one another’s stories. Stories create a space for us to be — to be known, to be validated in our feelings and experiences, and to give us words to express what we might not have been able to say before. We can find ourselves and God again in one another’s stories, opening the door to let hope come through once more.

We won’t be able to understand why hard things happen in this world or in our lives, and that is okay. We can sit in the tension of that reality together. And not only do our suffering and pain connect us together in our humanity, but they also connect us to Christ, who bore it all on the cross. He held the tension between heaven’s holiness and the world’s brokenness, and though we all long for resurrection, we have a God who stayed in the tomb—in darkness, in death, in time suspended — before He rose again on the third day.

And these are His words to us:

In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
John 16:33 (NIV)

From the introduction of  Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay by the (in)courage community

We hope each story in this book is an offering of hope to know that we’re in this together.

Get 5 devotions from Take Heart for FREE!

Learning to Soar Instead of Flapping Our Wings

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For the last several weeks, our air has been smoky in Central California because of the fires chasing up and down our state. We have been forced to stay inside for many days, which was a little harder to swallow after five months of sheltering at home due to the global pandemic.

My husband Shawn and I decided to take our three daughters and my parents on a weekend trip to the Central Coast to get out of the murky air. On that Saturday morning, Shawn and I drove to Montaña de Oro State Park for a trail run. I craved fresh air and some space to breathe before the new school year began with all my girls learning at home.

Some friends recommended this amazing trail that overlooked the ocean. I am all about chasing God’s glory along ocean vistas. We made our way to the trailhead and started our run.

Montaña de Oro State Park boasts golden wildflowers in spring, secluded sandy beaches, streams, canyons, coastal plains dotted with succulents, and hills upon hills. As the trail wove through the park like a thread through a tapestry, we found ourselves peering over the edge of rugged cliffs. A symphony of waves crashed beneath us.

I felt the storm in my soul begin to calm as my heart tuned in to the cadence of the ocean waves. I was reminded of my Daddy God who holds all the details, all the decision fatigue, and all the problems of this year in the palm of His hands.

Then I began to notice this bird flying overhead. As I ran, he flew just ahead of me. He was so close I could make out the curve of his expansive wings. I’m not a birder, but I’m pretty sure it was a hawk or eagle. I could tell by the way he would flap his wings only once or twice and then soar on the wind.

The prophet Isaiah says, “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

These words remind us that we are called to place our hope in the Lord. We cannot trust in our own sense of control over situations. So much in this season is out of our hands, and we have to look to God when we feel weary and broken.

Different translations and versions of the Bible use different words in place of that word “trust,” which help us get a fuller picture of what the prophet Isaiah was saying. We are called to “wait” for the Lord (ESV), to “trust” in Him (NLT), and “wait upon” Him for our next move (MSG). When we trust and wait for God, He leads us in surprising ways to fly like eagles.

Eagles are beautiful, majestic birds created by God to soar. They have long, large wings. Their bodies are very light with bones that are hollow. Their skeletons weigh about half a pound, but their wings are very strong.

When eagles fly, they flap their wings for only a short time to gain altitude. Then they stretch their wings horizontally and use wind thermals to soar or glide through the air, conserving energy.

A wind thermal is a big gust of wind that rises up from the atmosphere. Eagles wait and perch (sometimes for days) before they catch a good, strong wind thermal to carry them to where they want to go. Like the eagle, we also must wait with hope, listening for the Holy Spirit to whisper, nudge, or direct us where to run next.

While we wait, Isaiah 40 says God “renews our strength.” An eagle molts, which is the natural way God renews and replenishes its wings. The old feathers fall out and new ones grow in to take their place. Similarly, God can give us a dose of renewed strength, power, and ability while we are waiting for Him.

Whether you are waiting for an answer, waiting for healing, waiting for a child, waiting for a job promotion, or just waiting for this pandemic to be over, know that your waiting has purpose.

Waiting does not mean wallowing or sitting idle. In the waiting, God can give us fresh strength so we can soar when the time is right.

We can’t simply rely on our own strength because it is too often misguided and will eventually run out. Like the eagle, we need to conserve energy and look with anticipation for that just-right wind the Holy Spirit provides.

We need to stop striving and start soaring.

This post was adapted from the Introduction to Walk Run Soar.

 

Walk, Run, Soar is a 52-week devotional and training journal designed for runners (and walkers!) who hope to experience God’s presence, purpose, and glory in a deeper way as they run. Dorina Gilmore Young, and her triathlete husband, Shawn, will get you moving with a new motivation: improving your spiritual health. Along with weekly devotions to inspire you, Walk, Run, Soar includes:

· practical running/training tips
· training schedules from a running and triathlon coach
· advice on how to fuel your body well
· reflection questions and action steps
· space to journal and record your running progress

Whether you are new to running or a longtime runner, Walk, Run, Soar will motivate you to hit your fitness goals while strengthening your faith.

And to celebrate its release, we’ll be choosing FIVE winners to receive a copy! Tell us whom you’d like to gift the book to (whether it’s for someone else or for you) in the comments below!

Giveaway closes October 2 at 11:59pm CST. Open to US addresses only. 

When You Feel Guilty For Blessings

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I used to struggle with guilt — guilt for sinful behavior, things I thought I could have done better, but most of all, guilt for experiencing blessings from God that I didn’t see others enjoying. I felt guilty for answered prayers and for better circumstances than my friends seemed to be experiencing.

I know that “there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus,” but for some reason, it was easier to feel forgiven for my sins than for me not to feel guilty about being blessed by God’s hand of mercy and love.

Has the enemy tried to make you feel bad for the good things in your life? Do you feel guilty for having prayers answered? Are you being shamed for God’s goodness displayed in your life?

I remember being in small groups at church and dreading the time when it was time for me to share my testimony. I didn’t feel like Jesus had saved me from enough. I felt bad for how easy my life had been compared to others in the group. I allowed guilt to make me feel the need to apologize for things I didn’t have to endure or weren’t part of my story.

I allowed guilt to silence my praises to the One who had protected, provided, sacrificed, and loved me. I allowed comparison to lessen what God had done in my life — healing a disease, breaking my perfectionist spirit, changing my headstrong ways, redirecting my career path, being content in singleness, providing a loving spouse, creating in me a new heart to love a child, and overcoming infertility.

Guilt can be hard to get rid of. Its best friend is shame and that always leaves us silenced to ask for help or to praise Jesus.

It had become easier for me to try to praise God in my perseverance through hard situations than to praise Him when the prayers were answered, when the long-awaited gift finally came, when He revealed more of His tangible goodness in my life.

The Holy Spirit revealed to me that blessings should only create a thankful heart and praises to our King — not comparison, guilt, or shame. Those three things have been nailed to the cross with our sin.

The way God blesses me can give hope to another that God can bless them and answer their prayers too. 

Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.
James 1:17 (NLT)

Like the sunlight of today, God pours down His good gifts on us. This is part of His character. He never changes, and God does not cast a shadow on our situations. His good gifts should make us respond with praises to Him in the glow of His light in our lives.

I can be a living example to others of how God keeps His word and comes through on His promises. I can reveal Him to others by the hope of His goodness in my life. I pass on the blessings He has given me with those that need hope in love.

You don’t need to be embarrassed or feel guilt for God’s blessings. We can celebrate God’s mercy, love, and answered prayers, reminding us of our role as child of the King and simultaneously giving hope to others waiting on their own blessing.

You are blessed because of Jesus’ saving grace. You don’t have to apologize for God’s power and provision in your life. It’s your privilege to respond in love to God and others. 

Let’s not cower away from sharing what God has done in our midst and on our behalf because we are worried about someone else’s jealousy. Share with thanksgiving the kindness of God. In that, there is real, tangible hope for another. Enjoy the blessings He has bestowed on you and be thankful, not guilty. 

Consider Others as More Important Than Yourselves

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If, then, there is any encouragement in Christ, if any consolation of love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any affection and mercy, make my joy complete by thinking the same way, having the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:1-4 (CSB)

Whether we’d like to admit or not, the well-known phrase, “Every man for himself,” is often how we choose to live. It’s a natural survival instinct to want to preserve ourselves, our resources, and our loves ones when we face fear and scarcity. But we can only clutch onto what is ours for so long. Eventually, we realize how much we need each other and how important it is that we learn to depend and trust one another. If each of us consider the interests of others above our own, it creates a beautiful cycle where we become united in the Spirit by the love of Christ. This is the picture of the church we see in Acts 2:44-47:

All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. 

May we be like Jesus in how we consider others today. 

It’s Always the Right Time to Do the Right Thing

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When I was young and needed some direction about where to start reading in the Bible – especially when I wasn’t taking part in a guided or group study – a friend suggested opening Proverbs and choosing the one that corresponded to whatever day it happened to be in the month. Since there are thirty-one proverbs and thirty to thirty-one days in most months, they pair up nicely.

Perhaps due to its simplicity, this practice has remained a mainstay of mine throughout the years. When I need to hear the wisdom of God, or on occasion when I’m looking for writing inspiration, or on those days when time is scarce, Proverbs is where I begin.

As I prayed for the Holy Spirit to lead me in writing this post, I sensed a nudge to share my simple Bible-reading practice. But then I realized what day of the month it was — the thirty-first. Ugh. Writing about the “Proverbs 31 woman” felt tone deaf in light of our world right now. And even though I absolutely believe “all Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching” (2 Timothy 3:16-17 ESV), it wasn’t a passage I would have purposefully chosen.

Despite my feelings and out of regard for this practice of mine, I flipped to the familiar proverb. Immediately, I was reminded that God is so good and He knows me well. I had forgotten how Proverbs 31 starts. The nine verses preceding the characterization of a “wife of noble character” had escaped my recall.

To refresh your memory, Proverbs 31 is attributed to King Lemuel (though there’s speculation it could’ve been King Solomon), and those first nine verses are strong advice offered by his mama about wine and women and doing the right thing. When I got to verses eight and nine, I was blown away, understanding immediately why the Spirit might’ve led me to share my reading practice today:

Speak up for those who have no voice,
for the justice of all who are dispossessed.
Speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause
of the oppressed and needy.
Proverbs 31:8-9 (CSB)

Isn’t it always astonishing to read ancient words that speak so specifically to our world right now? I never want to lose the wonder of God’s word or its relevancy regardless of time, place, or circumstance.

We have influence among the people in our lives. You have influence among the people in your life. Are you stewarding this gift well? Are you influencing others with intention?

Ultimately and consistently, I want my life to point others to Jesus. Though I’ve admitted how I wrestled with Him and inadvertently tried to rob Him of His glory, I’ve always considered it an honor for my words to be read. Using my voice for those who may not have a platform is precisely why I love advocating for Compassion International and one of the reasons I love writing for the (in)courage community. Indeed, ours is a hope-filled and encouraging family where we get to love each other with our words and actions. I deeply value your time and appreciate every comment, email, and social share (When y’all encourage each other in a comment thread? My favorite!).

And with the influence I have here, I want to encourage us to heed Proverbs 31:8-9. As racial tensions continue to occupy our headlines, we must “speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause of the oppressed and needy.” Because we are loved by God, we’re empowered to love others. And loving others demonstrates our love for God because it’s obedience to the greatest command: to love God and others (Matthew 22:36-39).

When we make space for others to speak and when we use our own voices to stand against injustice, we become part of the reconciling work Christ began. Let’s soak in the wisdom from Proverbs 31:8-9 and become women of courage and justice.

Did you see the two video conversations recently hosted by (in)courage? Part One shares stories from women of color at (in)courage about painful experiences with racism, and Part Two explains how we can all engage in anti-racism work through open conversations with the people in our lives. I hope you get to watch the videos so you can be encouraged and equipped to share your own story about race and listen well to others.

How are you or others around you living out Proverbs 31:8-9?

How Jesus Teaches Women to Be Treated

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I’m on Twitter – probably my first mistake – when a man starts putting me down. I’d written an article for a Christian magazine and he disagreed, let’s see, with my words? My tone? My profile photo? Who knows? In the end, he took the low road, blasting me, my race, and my gender.

In reply, I simply wrote this: “Wow. If that was supposed to hurt, it did.”

Later, however, I began to ask myself a curious question: does this guy talk to women this way all the time — not just to African American women? He seemed obsessed with knocking my ethnicity, but did he routinely find women on social media, dump on their souls, then get on with his day?

I reflect on this today because of what we’re hearing during this political season. In the U.S., more women than ever are running for Congress, and as candidates, they’ve become prime targets for ugly insults as if that’s okay. (It’s not.)

In Virginia, a small-town mayor, posted on Facebook, “Joe Biden has just announced Aunt Jemima as his VP pick.” After apologizing, he defended his comment, saying it was “humorous.”

Even before this year’s election, some musical genres have built lucrative careers putting down women – with some women sadly adopting the same putdowns to describe themselves.

Even in our own homes, a woman might face verbal assault. A verbal abuser, says philosophy professor Dr. Berit Broggard, “will define your reality, decide what you can or cannot do, and treat you (in their eyes) as an ugly part of themselves, a part that they have to undermine in order to keep their own sense of self.”

Altogether, these things have me thinking about women and how we are seen, in contrast, by the Lord. In short, when it comes to women, I’m not asking what would Jesus do, but how does He see us?

Here is my humble conclusion: Jesus sees us as worthy of respect. “Respect” literally means to be seen a second time — yes, in a new way, as worthy of regard.

I’m compelled, in fact, that during a time in history when women were seen as vile, petty, unclean, jealous, sinful, and more (the list is long), Jesus shows the opposite. How?

He talks to women. This in itself is remarkable. In Bible times, women were second-class citizens who couldn’t enter a synagogue for worship. They couldn’t touch the Scriptures, or else they’d “defile” them. Rarely were women even spoken to by men – even their own husbands. Thus, in all things by law, according to the historian Josephus, women were considered “inferior to the man.”

But here’s Jesus in Samaria, talking to the woman at the well, violating three longstanding Jewish customs, says scholar Jack Zavada. First, He spoke to her. Next, He didn’t discriminate against her, even though Jews of that era traditionally despised Samaritans. Third, He asked her to give Him a drink of water, “although using her cup or jar would have made him ceremonially unclean.”

Why would Jesus do this? We could argue He breaks these rules to show us who we are as women. But how about a bigger, deeper answer? In breaking rules about interacting with women, the Lord shows us who He is and who we, as women, are in Him.

The Lord is our Redeemer, our holy Change Agent, our Living Water, our Blessed Hope for today and tomorrow. After encountering Him, we become all He intends us to be.

As the woman at the well declares, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (John 4:29).

In her village, people who probably never gave her the time of day recognize something has changed in her. She’s not the same woman. The Twitter trolls can’t harm her. The bullies on the street who call her names can’t devalue her.

Jesus knew all about her and still offered her Himself, the Living Water. His eye-opening acceptance of her changes how everyone else sees her too.

In a harsh and hating world, receiving His acceptance not only speaks of us but also speaks powerfully of Him. We are beloved by Him, and we matter. As we treat each other that way, may the watching world never forget that too.

Our Need for Real-Life Connection

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Although I try my best not to get on my phone first thing in the morning, the other day I checked Instagram soon after I woke up. Twenty minutes later, I went downstairs, made breakfast, scrolled through Instagram again, and then hopped on Facebook.

I put down my phone, feeling like I needed to actually get something done and decided to read my Bible and a devotional. When I was finished, I took a shower and got ready, pulled out my Macbook and sat down at my desk to check email. Once my inbox was manageable, I hopped over to Instagram and Facebook — again.

It sounds crazy as I type it all out. And that day, when I caught myself checking social media a few times within a couple of hours, I wondered why I was doing it incessantly. Deep inside, I knew my constant checking was about more than keeping up with emails and updates.

My heart was chasing after something more.

Finally, I paused to ask myself why — Why do I keep checking online?

I sat there for a moment, waiting for my heart to respond when these words rose up in my thoughts: You keep coming back because your heart longs for connection.

I wasn’t sure if it was God speaking to my heart or me answering my own question, but I did know this:

No matter how many times I hop on social media, it will never be enough to satisfy my need for real-life friendships.

Back in the spring, when our country entered the startling uncertainty of navigating a deadly global pandemic, our lives and relationships changed in an instant. Walking through various phases of COVID-19 quarantine, being with only immediate family, wearing masks and social distancing, we all grieved the loss of real-life relationships that were getting reduced to quick conversations via text.

That morning, as I stared at my phone, I recognized how much face-to-face time with friends over the past six months (even those wearing masks) had been reduced to a bare minimum.

I was trying to fill a God-created need for real-life relationships with a screen and alphabet keys.

My heart craved something no amount of digital conversations could fill. So what did I do? I pulled out my phone and did the old-fashioned thing of calling a friend without texting her first to see if she could talk.

She was at work and didn’t answer so I left a message in voicemail. I told her what was going on with me and asked if we could get together soon. I promised we could sit six-feet apart on my front porch or backyard patio and wear masks if needed. I just needed time together, to connect in real life.

The following week we met for lunch at my house. Looking into a friend’s eyes, listening to each other talk, and being listened to was just what we both needed.

Jesus valued face-to-face connections and surrounded Himself with intimate friends — His Father, His close friends John, Peter, and James, and then the other nine disciples.

He also had friends like Mary, Martha, and Lazarus — people He spent time with over meals and with whom He had conversations about spiritual truths that applied to their everyday lives. Through His example, we see how important it is to satisfy our craving for connection by spending face-to-face time with friends, even if it means getting a little bit creative.

Do you ever catch yourself checking social media more than once in a three-hour span? If so, the next time you do, ask Jesus to help you get creative in connecting with an in-real-life friend. Maybe you could go for a walk together or sit outside and visit. And if that’s not possible, schedule time for more than a quick phone call, so you can hear each others’ voice or a zoom call, where you can see each others’ face. I promise you will be glad you did!

The True King of Our Imagined Future

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I had just crawled into bed when I saw the ticker on my phone that Chadwick Boseman had passed away after a four-year battle with colon cancer. Within seconds of reading those words on my screen, the tears came flooding down, and I didn’t know how to make them stop. I wept and wept for days afterward. That whole weekend was a blur of tears and sleep and more tears. I’d find myself scrolling on social media or playing with my kids or watching a movie, and then all of a sudden I’d be weeping again with no warning. And I mean ugly crying — the kind that causes your soul to ache from the anguish ripping through your heart and body.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that my young son noticed I was upset. He wanted to know why his momma was so sad, but that was a conversation I didn’t want to have. How do you tell your five-year-old son that one of his heroes has died? I had just talked with him days before about the shooting of Jacob Blake. My husband and I had been discussing it aloud over dinner, and he had wanted to know what had happened. We tried our best to explain the situation to him in age-appropriate language, but even still, his face immediately looked terrified as he asked us, “Would the police ever do that to me? Would they ever do that to my daddy?”

There is too much pain and exhaustion from weeks and months of hearing about yet another Black man shot in the streets — George Floyd. Ahmaud Arbery. Breonna Taylor. Mike Ramos. Jacob Blake. And countless more.

However, the passing of Chadwick Boseman hit on another level. For the Black community especially but also for so many people of color, he was the king of our imagined future. In the movie, Black Panther, Boseman plays T’Challa, the king of the fictional Wakanda, an African country untainted by the scars of colonialism, racism, subjugation, and oppression. His steady disposition and even-temperedness is guided as much by his moral center as by his physical strength. Under his steady rule, his people thrive and flourish. It’s hard to even put into words all of the ways that this movie and this person has impacted me as an Indian American woman, but of this there is no doubt: Boseman was my superhero too. He embodied the dream of how this world could be different and the type of leader who could serve at its helm.

This is why losing Boseman opened a floodgate of grief. His screen entrance as T’Challa gave me hope in a world torn apart by racism, injustice, and violence, and the idea that he was no longer among us was a terrible thought. I felt alone again, and this became my moment of wondering if I should give up — not the months of anti-Asian racism I’ve been experiencing this year, not the police brutality and systemic injustice against Black and brown communities, but this moment. Boseman’s death was my tipping point.

In the days and weeks now following Boseman’s death, I’ve continued to grieve, but I’m also clinging to hope. To me, the power of Boseman’s T’Challa was his embodiment of a life that was Christ-like. His position and actions as king of Wakanda always made me think longer and deeper about the person to whom he pointed for me, namely Jesus. I mourn the good and the beautiful that T’Challa embodied, while also reminding myself that he made me look toward the one who truly is the king of our hearts. Jesus is not merely the king of our imagined futures; He is the true King, who will bring a kingdom that is incomparably greater than Wakanda or any real or imagined kingdom.

In Revelation 5, Jesus is presented as a lion-like Lamb. He is our authoritative King and the most powerful of all. However, the way this Lion exercises His sovereignty and power is not through brute force but through lamb-like sacrifice. The recurring imagery of lambs is one of tender, gentle creatures. It is Jesus as the Lamb of God, who speaks to us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

T’Challa, similarly, is a lamb-like panther, who is willing to give up his life for his people. In the movie, Black Panther, he says, “I will not abandon someone to die, when I have the means to save his life.” I love this quote because it makes T’Challa a figure that points to Christ. Jesus is the greater Black Panther, who sacrificed Himself for His people to bring true freedom, liberation, and citizenship into the kingdom of heaven.

The hope of a better future is not lost. The hope of a King who can usher us into this better future is not lost either. And I’m clinging to this truth today.

Embracing Disruption: An Invitation to Believing Bigger

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About ten years ago, I was running a very successful professional sports agency and doing national television on a regular basis. I was traveling around the world as a speaker and promoting my new business book that had hit #1 in the Women & Business category. To top it all, I was newly engaged to a man that seemed to be Prince Charming and getting ready to become a bonus mom to his three children. I was on cloud nine — so much so that I closed down my agency, which was the fastest growing, female-owned sports agency in the nation, for love!

My fairytale turned into a nightmare six days before my wedding when I found out that my fiancé was cheating on me — talk about a rude awakening! Not only was I heartbroken, but I became broke too. After studying Isaiah 48:21, I found myself in the middle what I now refer to as a “split rock” moment — a place of divine disruption. Isaiah 48:21 reads:

They did not thirst when He led them through the deserts;
He made water flow for them from the rock;
He split the rock and water gushed out.
Isaiah 48:21 (NIV)

The rock here represents a hard place where we feel abandoned and when circumstances seem impossible to survive. But through my pain, I’ve learned that what seems to be meant to destroy you, is actually intended to develop and deploy you.

New life, like streams of living water, flow from difficult places. We’ll never really know why things happen the way they do. But I do know disappointment and disruption get our attention and open us to divine reinvention. God is not out to punish us, but I am certain He takes every opportunity, no matter how messy, to prepare us.

Perhaps disruption has landed on your doorstep too. What appears to be happening to you is actually happening for you because of something greater within you. Disruption is an invention to shift into a higher dimension of purpose and calling. The shift may not have been caused by God, but it can certainly be used by God to catapult you into destiny.

Adversity comes to align you with a greater version of yourself that God has been trying to unleash for far too long. Disruption detaches us from who we think we are so that we can become who we were really made to be.

Let’s just go ahead and be
what we were made to be . . .
Romans 12:6 (MSG)

As I rebuilt my life, going from stuck to building a successful company and finding new love again, I realized that every woman will experience disruption. It’s not a sign that you’re broken. It’s actually proof that God is building something magnificent in you that will bring forth His glory.

As I started working with women to help them reinvent their lives, I’ve found that each of us has a unique mission and message, and I noticed a pattern that I call the Five Stages of Divine Reinvention and Purpose or The Purpose Map™.

When we look at our lives, we see a mess. However, God sees a map. The map shows us where we are on the purpose journey and makes clear that we are all called to impact and influence. No one is exempt. Most never make it out of stage two, but it’s time to change that. God calls us to reinvention, not retirement. Here are the five stages:

Stage 1: DISCOVERY. This is where we’re taught the do’s and don’ts of life and where we learn to shrink, settle, and play it safe. We ask the question: Who I am supposed to be?

Stage 2: TALENT. We pick a lane, start climbing the mountains of success, and master wearing masks that cover up who we really are. We ask, Who did I decide to be?

Stage 3: THE GAP. Disruption or simply discontent flip our life upside down, and we find ourselves in a wilderness — an in-between place of transition. We’re trying to figure out who we really are, what we really want, and what it’ll take to trade success for significance and let go of what no longer belongs. We ask, What is happening to me?

Stage 4: GIFTS. We uncover untapped potential, life-changing gifts, and our ultimate superpower — our voice. We ask the question: Who was I really designed to be?

Stage 5: INFLUENCE. We step into our life mission and the bigger impact we’re here to have. We are all called to lead. Finally, we ask, Where am I now being led to lead?

No matter where you are, know that you are indeed on a necessary path. Disruption makes room for us to experience a fresh indwelling of the Holy Spirit and God’s restorative power in such a special and intimate way.

I raised you up for this very purpose,
that I might display my power in you and
that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth.
Romans 9:17 (NIV)

In the middle of pain, purpose is calling. There is a mission with your name on it. You must believe bigger to perceive it and seize it. And when we change the way we think, we change the way we live and lead others to do the same.

 

One of the best ways to discover what God has for you is spending time in God’s word, and Scripture-led journaling is an intimate way to hear what the Holy Spirit has to say to you. 100 Days of Believing Bigger is a devotional + journal designed for women who seek to live out their full purpose and believe God for the impossible. Each daily devotion revolves around four pillars: Scripture, Reflection, Journal Prompts and Simple + Bold Prayers. It’s time to uncover the truths about who you are, why you matter, and what you are here to do.

Click here to purchase. And for an extra copy to give to a friend, tell us whom you’d like to give it to in the comments below — we’ll select THREE winners!

Giveaway closes 9/25/20 at 11:59 pm CST. US addresses only.

Discovering Divine Peace in the Dark Days

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My husband embraced me tightly before walking out the door with his bags slung over his shoulder. I trailed behind him as he stopped in the driveway for a hug and photos with our oldest son. My husband, dressed in full uniform, stood with his arm around our little boy, who held a small, black chalkboard sign that read “First Day of First Grade” (it also happened to be his seventh birthday). After photos and final goodbyes, the kids and I watched my husband’s silver pickup truck back out our driveway and pull away. As soon as he was out of sight, an adrenaline rush of anxiety hit me like a shot of caffeine awakening me to the danger he drove toward.

A birthday, the first day of school at a brand new school, and a deployment all in one day was a lot. But this was not our first experience with deployment. In fact, in ten years, I’d lost count of the birthdays and milestones interrupted or missed and the number of goodbyes we’ve said that made us wonder if they’d be the last.

I stood there in my driveway, closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply, slowing my racing heart. I attuned my spirit to the Lord’s dwelling within me. I would live in awareness, not of danger and of the unknown but of the presence of the Lord with me.

Several weeks later, the buzz of my phone woke me just before dawn. The screen showed five missed calls. I immediately knew something was wrong. My phone vibrated again as I held it. I sat up and answered. It was my husband. I exhaled an anxious breath from my lungs. He wanted to reach me before I turned on the TV and saw the news. Through hurried, hushed words that lacked detail, he told me he was safe, but others were not. I felt weak and weepy, but I just listened quietly. He spoke with composure, but I’ve known his voice long enough to hear the emotions he was trying to repress. With forced stoicism, he told me to pray and to tell our two sons that he loved them. The goodbye felt permanent. I slid off our bed onto the floor as tears slid down my cheeks and prayed with my forehead resting against our mattress.

During that deployment, my husband was on a mission that killed one of his friends. Any comfort we tried to offer each other thousands of miles apart in the midst of a traumatic tragedy fell short. And due to his position, I could only confide in a couple of friends. I spent days and nights battling rounds of worry and crying. In the panic, I wanted peace, and in the mourning, I wanted comfort. But I had become a veteran of mental, emotional, and spiritual battles, and I’d learned how to move through them intentionally with the Lord and find endurance through hard seasons. He is the only true source of peace and comfort. 

While I could breathe through anxiety and find solace in the empathetic eyes and arms of friends, the only way through the battles I faced was with a surrendered dependence on the Lord. The Lord was with me always, and His presence went with my husband. The Lord’s presence is a provision of peace that sustains us through the scariest moments of life. I had first learned this almost a decade ago when our newborn daughter died, and it has stayed true through every hard season in our lives.

Life doesn’t always work out. People we love will die. And we might find ourselves in harm’s way, intentionally or not, no matter how hard we pray or how much faith we have. But no matter what arrows come by night, we can find consolation in reminding ourselves of who God is, surrendering the moments out of our control to His sovereignty and drawing near to Him in prayer. God’s divine peace dawns in the dark moments of our lives as we depend on Him.

Wherever you are, whether abrupt news has interrupted your peaceful plans, or the vast unknown looms before you, choose to lean on unchanging truth, not on changing circumstances. Pray without ceasing to discover the permanence of the Lord who goes with you, dwells within you, and will never abandon you. May you take heart in the Lord’s presence and live out your full dependence on Him. It’s in our dependence that we discover that His power strengthens us to fight our battles and endure with the peace of His presence.

The Lord is my shepherd;
I have what I need.
He lets me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside quiet waters.
He renews my life;
he leads me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even when I go through the darkest valley,
I fear no danger,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff — they comfort me.
You prepare a table before
me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
as long as I live.
Psalm 23 (CSB)