Patience Today for Maturity Tomorrow

Patience Today for Maturity Tomorrow

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It didn’t take long to determine the car wasn’t safe to drive. The tires were completely bald, and the internal metal wires were exposed. The tires could fail at any time, making it risky to drive. For now, the car needed to stay parked in the safety of the driveway. The only remedy? A brand new set of tires. Yep, FOUR of them. To the tune of $1,300.

Ouch.

My friend told me the story as we caught up on the events of the prior week. Her teenage son was dealing with one of the more difficult challenges of adult life—car maintenance. He needed the car for work, not to mention hanging out with his friends. But $1,300?! That price tag was difficult for a grown, full-time employed adult. But for a teenage boy working a part-time job, it felt near impossible. So she talked to him about working extra hours on the weekend and saving rather than spending for a few weeks. As difficult as it was to navigate, my friend knew these were important lessons for a young person — the value of hard work, delayed satisfaction, and caring for our belongings.

She didn’t, however, expect his response later that day.

“Mom, I found a used car for only $4,500.”

WHAT?!

“It’s got a lot of miles — over 100,000. And it needs some work. But it’s only $4,500. And if I sell my car and get a loan for the rest, it won’t be too much. I can’t afford new tires, so I’ll just get a different car.”

And that’s when my friend and I shared a laugh. This wasn’t the first time one of our teenagers wasn’t thinking clearly about the real cost of their decisions.

It doesn’t make sense, does it? Rather than save money and put in extra time and effort for a few weeks, he was willing to dump the car and spend three times as much for a used car that needed just as much work and a loan that would last for a couple of years. To him, it was easier to throw away what wasn’t working than to invest a little time in fixing what he already had.

I’m about to lay down some hard-to-hear truth. You ready?

Sometimes you and I have the maturity of a teenager when it comes to our relationships. We may not junk-yard a car because of bald tires, but how many times have I walked away from a relationship, a situation, a church, or faith because it grew a little worn around the edges? Rather than invest extra time working through a challenge, I’d rather drop it in a landfill of unaddressed issues and turn my attention to something easier.

I wonder: What is the long-term cost of my lack of resilience? What is the high price tag I’m paying by giving up when my character and maturity would be better served by digging in? I suspect I’m not the only one with a landfill full of learning opportunities I’ve missed simply because I preferred immediate relief.

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.”
Ephesians 4:1-3 NIV

My friends, it’s time you and I grow up a little bit. It’s time to put our teenage ways behind us and start living and loving like those who know the long-term value of forgiveness, love, and faithfulness. Let’s stop junk-yarding people and problems just because they are difficult to manage. Instead, filled with the Holy Spirit and eternally loved by a faithful Heavenly Father, let’s bear with each other, showing extraordinary patience as we allow our challenges (and the Holy Spirit) to make us more like Jesus.

Yes, the immediate price tag can be a bit tough to take. Growth requires us to press in when we want to pull away, to persevere when we want to quit, to stay engaged and connected when we’re tempted to shut down. But the reward for today’s perseverance and patience is a life that grows up to look a little more mature (and a little more like Jesus) tomorrow.

Where Do You Go When You’re Thirsty?

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“My people have committed two sins:
They have forsaken me,
    the spring of living water,
and have dug their own cisterns,
    broken cisterns that cannot hold water.”
Jeremiah 2:13 NIV

You might be wondering, What’s a cistern? A cistern is a holding tank for water that is dug into the ground. The water inside a cistern is still, unmoving. In juxtaposition to “living water,” this water is dead.

A cistern is intended to be leakproof. But what happens when the lining cracks or the internal structure breaks? It can no longer hold water. Adding more water to a broken cistern is futile. Expecting a broken cistern to provide life-giving water is pointless.

It would be unthinkable for a person to walk past a bubbling artesian spring of clean water and instead choose to exert tremendous energy digging and filling a cistern in order to draw from the stagnant water source. It just wouldn’t make sense. Yet this is exactly what the people of Israel had done in their spiritual lives.

This is exactly what we often do in our own lives. And it grieves the heart of God.

“They have forsaken me.” Can you hear the anguish and disappointment in those words? Being refused and abandoned by His chosen people brought great pain to God’s heart. He feels the same way when we turn away from Him today.

We may not worship statues made of gold or call on the name of foreign gods like the people in Jeremiah’s time, but have you ever put your trust in something or someone other than Jesus? Think about it.

Where do you go for purpose, significance, and security? Where do you turn when you’re thirsty for truth and yearning for peace?

As I examine my own heart before the Lord, I have to admit that at times I’m not so unlike the Israelites. I can forget all that God has done to rescue me from bondage, forgive my sins, and invite me into a relationship of love and freedom with Him. I can slip into the trap of believing that other water sources, other life sources, are just as good and satisfying as God.

Some of my cisterns look like Instagram scrolling and seeking satisfaction from the stale water of likes and comments. I’ve dug cisterns of relationships and work projects — returning again and again to something that has value but was never intended to be an endless source of nourishment and fulfillment.

Maybe you’ve dragged your thirsty soul to the cisterns of online shopping or too many glasses of wine. Maybe you’ve neglected the living spring of God for the broken wells of politics, self-help books, the latest fad diet, or your bank account balance.

When you’re scared and confused, do you rush to God and the living spring of His Word for wisdom and truth, or are you quick to turn on the news or ask a friend’s advice? When you’re lonely and longing to feel loved, do you ask the Spirit of our living God to surround you and minister to you, or do you reach for that tub of ice cream or the arms of someone who isn’t your husband? When you’re anxious and hurting, do you run to the Living Water, the Prince of Peace in prayer, or do you rush to Facebook, Amazon, or a romance novel?

Friends, it’s time to recognize the cisterns we’ve dug. It’s time to confess that we’ve habitually visited these leaky, polluted cisterns.

It’s time to choose living water.

By Becky Keife from Create in Me a Heart of Peace

 

Looking for your next Bible Study? Create in Me a Heart of Peace combines relatable stories, biblical insight, personal reflection, and practical application so you can receive the fullness of God’s peace and share it with others. This study is perfect for small groups or to go through on your own. Grab your copy. 

 

When You Wish You Were the Orange Tree + a Recipe for Candy Corn Cookies

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One of our neighbors down the street has a tree that turns a brilliant orange every fall. I love driving toward my house and looking up to see those brightly colored leaves; it makes me smile every time.

Sometimes, though, my eyes drift toward the big tree in the corner of my yard. The one with boring yellow leaves, always turning later than the others on the street.

And I can’t help but wish I had my own orange-leaved tree.

My favorite fall leaf color is bright orange — the red-orange, not the yellow-orange. Something about the brilliance of the hue or the contrast with a bright blue fall sky makes my heart beat a little faster.

At times, I find myself coveting my neighbor’s tree full of orange leaves, but I also find myself wishing I could be the orange tree.

I wish I could be the tree full of vibrant leaves, early in the season, catching every passing eye among a line of plain green or yellow plants.

I wish I could be the one that everyone stops to admire, pauses to photograph, smiles at, and feels inspired to appreciate this season, this miracle of God’s creation.

I wish I could be the orange tree.

But is it possible that being the orange tree isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?

What about that yellow tree, the one that takes its time turning into something other than plain, something not-so-common? Its metamorphosis might come later than the other trees on the block, but when it does, it stands out all the more against the harsh, empty branches of its neighbors. It stands proud in the corner of my yard, finally getting its chance to shine, full of light, color, and nature.

Or how about those red trees? You can’t miss them, although — at least in our area — they aren’t all that common. They’re usually the smaller trees and the bushes, the ones that are most likely overlooked every other month of the year. But come October and November, they are set on fire, burning bright and beautiful in their own way.

And then there are the pale orange trees, those yellow-orange ones I specifically labeled “not my favorite.” They don’t have the contrast the red-orange ones do with the blue autumn sky, but put them in a crowd of darker-hued trees, and wow, do they pop! Even though my brain knows those trees bear only leaves, my eyes always think they are offering flowers — buds of life that glow against the darker shades of the crowd.

Speaking of the darker shades of the crowd . . . evergreens don’t get the joy of bursting into multi-colored flames every fall. No, they stay green as their name indicates, steady and solid throughout the changing seasons. They anchor the hillside and the tapestry God paints for us, standing back to let the rainbow of oaks and maples and fruit trees own the stage.

Just yesterday I noticed one more color I’d overlooked before. Early on, some leaves turn a dark, burnt orange. And when the rainy days turn the sky slate gray, those dark orange leaves fly stark against the dreary backdrop, creating a visual drama that happy, shiny leaves simply can’t pull off.

Can you believe God created all these different trees with all their different gifts for us?

Then God said, “Let the land sprout with vegetation — every sort of seed-bearing plant, and trees that grow seed-bearing fruit. These seeds will then produce the kinds of plants and trees from which they came.” And that is what happened . . . And God saw that it was good.
Genesis 1:11-12

Of course, He did. And He did the same with us.

Maybe you’re not the brilliant orange tree, turning early and shining bright. Maybe your leaves are a more subtle shade or change later in the season — or even not at all.

Perhaps you’ve spent months or years feeling small and overlooked and you can’t imagine a day when you burn red and dazzle those who see you peeking out from the corner or from under those other big trees.

You may only find your gifts show up during the dreary days, in a crowd, or as you support those around you. Or maybe you are an orange tree, and your day to turn just hasn’t arrived yet.

No matter what kind of tree you are, you are magnificent.

You’re a masterpiece drawn by the Creator of all, designed for just the right time.

And you shine.

Don’t envy the orange tree . . . or the red one . . . or the evergreen or the yellow leaves or the clever tree with several shades showing at once.

No, stand tall and reach high with your unique colors and seasons and far-reaching branches and roots.

You are exactly the tree you were created to be.

Article by Mary Carver from the (in)courage archives.

 

And now a fun fall recipe just for you!

Can you feel it in the air? Mornings have a little more chill to them, leaves on trees are changing colors, coffee shops have updated their menus to feature all the pumpkin spice things… Fall is really, truly, and FINALLY here! Bake up these simple cookies, especially fun to make with the kids in your life. Use them to jazz up a dessert table at Bible study or satisfy that October sweet tooth. 

Scroll down for the recipe (courtesy of our friend Nancy), table styling suggestions, and to download a FREE printable recipe card!

Candy Corn Cookies

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 10 minutes
Bake Time: 10 minutes
Makes 22 cookies.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 (15-ounce) box yellow cake mix 
  • 1/2 cup canola oil 
  • 2 large eggs 
  • 1/2 cup white chocolate chips, plus a few Tbsp. more for adding to the tops of cookies after baking 
  • 1/2 cup candy corn, for adding to the tops of cookies after baking 

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper; set aside. 
  2. In large bowl, mix together the dry cake mix, oil, and eggs, blending well. Stir in 1/2 cup white chocolate chips (save the remaining chips for later). 
  3. Scoop cookie dough by tablespoonfuls onto the prepared cookie sheets, spacing 2 inches apart. 
  4. Bake at 350˚F for 10 minutes. Remove from oven and press 2 to 3 pieces of candy corn and a few white chocolate chips into the tops of the cookies while they’re still warm. Then transfer cookies to a wire rack to cool completely. 
  5. Store cookies in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a week. 

To create the beautiful look that Nancy created here, use the Thankful Table Runner, the Grace & Gratitude Dip Bowls and Dinner Plates, and serve cookies on the Grace & Gratitude Accent Plates. Then call a friend and share a cuppa with these festive fall cookies! Find these pieces and more in the full Mary & Martha collection — now available at DaySpring.com.

And tell us – which autumn tree color is your favorite?

Biblical Ways to Love Yourself Today

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Who struggles with self-criticism? (Raises hand.) I’ve talked with thousands of women through my work as a writer, counselor, and life coach. One of the most common phrases I hear is, “I don’t know how to stop being so hard on myself.”

I think many of us were raised to believe self-criticism is necessary in order to be “good.” We have to keep ourselves in line. Make sure we do the right thing. Meet expectations. But I’m learning in ever deeper ways that Jesus came to rescue me from being “good” just as surely as He came to rescue me from being a sinner.

What do I mean? I think trying to be “good” is the modern-day version of living under the law. It’s about following rules instead of living freely in an intimate relationship with God. It’s about trying to achieve perfection instead of wholly trusting in grace. It’s about proving why I should be loved instead of resting in the belief that I already am.

I am not very likely to ever rebel (although there was that season in college…). But I am likely to show up every day of my life as someone who has to hustle to prove her worth, who hears a voice of condemnation in her mind, who feels like maybe she could be just a little bit better. I need Jesus to rescue me from all of this.

I also recently read an article that explained self-criticism activates our flight-or-fight response in the same way an external threat does. When we live with chronic self-criticism, we become a threat to ourselves. When we do this for years, research shows it can lead to emotional issues such as anxiety and depression as well as physical symptoms. Safety is a basic requirement for well-being, and self-criticism makes us feel unsafe with ourselves.

I cringe when I type those words because they feel so true in my life. Our culture talks so much these days about avoiding toxic relationships and making sure we have safe people in our lives. But this aspect is often overlooked — the first person we need to feel safe with is ourselves.

How do we do so? By loving ourselves in the same ways God has called us to love each other. God didn’t say, “Love everyone else, but it doesn’t matter how you treat yourself.” God is just as grieved when we treat ourselves poorly as He would be if we did the same to someone else.

I sat in a lovely coffee shop one morning, latte next to me, the chatter of a dozen conversations around me, and looked up every verse in the New Testament with the phrase “each other.” I compiled a list and then replaced “each other” with “Holley.”

Here are a few examples…

Love Holley. (John 13:34)
Stop condemning Holley. (Romans 14:13)
Be an encouragement to Holley. (Romans 15:32)

Now you try it…

Love (your name).
Stop condemning (your name).
Be an encouragement to (your name).

Does doing this for yourself feel harder than doing it for a friend? Yep, me too. I think loving ourselves is not something we can accomplish on our own, just as we can’t love others on our own either. I don’t think I have the capacity as a human to love other humans the way God does — and that includes loving myself.

My first tendency when I read the list I created with my name in it was to once again feel like I was failing at something and to believe I should feel guilty about not doing this better, too. Then I laughed because I could see my inner critic at work again.

So instead I paused and prayed, “God, please supernaturally empower me to love myself the way you love me.”

Isn’t this what obedience means? It is simply aligning ourselves with the heart of God.

Tim Keller said, “Shalom experienced is multidimensional, complete well-being — physical, psychological, social, and spiritual; it flows from all of one’s relationships being put right — with God, within oneself, and with others.”

The work of God in our lives is to bring us deeper into Shalom until that work is completed when we are Home with Him forever. Part of that work, of things being made right in our lives, includes healing our relationship with ourselves.

Sometimes the hardest person to love is ourselves.

Loving yourself is not prideful. Loving yourself is not selfish. Loving yourself is simply aligning with the heart of God toward you.

For a free downloadable version of Holley’s complete list, click here for 15 Biblical Ways to Love Yourself Today.

The Legacy You Leave

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I will never forget the emotions that surrounded the opening of a certain cardboard box that had just been delivered to our tiny apartment in the late eighties. It seemed massive to my young childhood eyes…as if I opened a wardrobe of sorts that would whisk me to a different land.

I can still remember the wonder and excitement my brother and I felt as we pulled each item out of the box. It was filled with VHS tapes, activities, and other resources to help strengthen our faith. My first Bible was in that box, a beautifully illustrated masterpiece that opened my eyes to more than I could imagine. I can still envision the colors and strokes of paint that added texture to the Bible stories that were forming my own story.

My mom ordered that box for us. I don’t even know how she afforded it considering the effort it took to keep our little family afloat.

This season was just one of my parents’ multiple separations until they officially divorced about six years later. When my mother first arrived in the United States to join my father as he worked on his degrees — and she started hers — I don’t think she expected to spend most of her time alone. She’s often told me how hard it was to come from Nigerian culture where new mothers were surrounded with intentional care in their first year postpartum, to landing in Alabama, not knowing what to do with the newborn she’d just delivered from her body and without support.

In those early years through the birth of my siblings, my mom was in a place of heightened desperation. So she surrounded us with a small church community. She brought us with her to prayer meetings where the voices of other Nigerian immigrants bellowed and echoed around us. At those gatherings, unrelated aunties stroked my hair as they beseeched the Lord God Almighty on behalf of themselves and so many others.

Even though this was a time of strain and struggle and rejection, I look back on those years with fondness because that is where my faith solidified. Jesus wasn’t just a story or a Sunday school lesson on the flannel board (my favorite!). He was real and tangible in my house because He was all we had to cling to.

My mom walked out more heartache than I can imagine but I watched how she continued to cling to the Lord. I heard her prayers, saw the creases in her Bible, and felt her protection in the decisions she made (and didn’t make) to give us her best.

Some may grow up in families with massive inheritances and financial stability. Even though that was not the case for my family, I feel as if I was richer than most because my mom gave us an inheritance that will not fade or decay. She not only taught us about the Lord, but she showed us that He was trustworthy through her actions and experience. In her darkest moments, the light of her dependency on Christ still burst through, beckoning me to know God for myself too.

One of the most fascinating stories to me is the one of Naomi and Ruth. I adore reading about the redemption and the love that unfolded. But the part that encourages me the most is that in the middle of their heartache and grief, Ruth decided that she wanted Naomi’s God to be her God. She wanted the Lord that was with Naomi to be with her too (Ruth 1:16-17).

We are familiar with Ruth’s words of devotion but perhaps we sometimes forget the circumstances that formed them. Ruth didn’t say these words out of the overflow of comfortable, victorious times. They were declared amid grief, uncertainty, and inevitable transition. Somehow Naomi’s determination to cling to the hand of the Lord — even when she felt He had turned it against her — impacted Ruth deeply.

You may feel like your past journey or current one is so filled with struggle that it would be hard for anyone to wrestle out some sort of redemption. But you have no idea the type of legacy you leave from those hard places. Because it’s not about what you feel like you can or can’t do, but about the One you stubbornly cling to, even if it’s just grasping a tiny thread of the tassel hanging from His robe.

I don’t think my mom ever felt like she had much to give us in those seasons but she, in fact, gave us everything. Everything. She offered us, and still does, glimpses of what it means to live our lives not anchored on circumstances, but on the Rock who will never fail.

You Won’t Learn Everything from a Kindergartner But You Can Learn Something

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I was not long out of college when we visited my boyfriend’s (now husband) family friends. They were a large, three-generation ranch family in Nevada, and the patriarch and matriarch had immigrated from Italy. Their English was broken and beautiful.

One of their grandchildren, Dana, was about five years old at the time. She was a darling, precocious little thing, who entered the room like sunshine: bright and uninvited, with a beaming countenance that might as well have been a shot of Vitamin D. Dana was the sort of child who could climb into your lap without permission and coax the sweetest smile from the sourest of dispositions. To her, everyone was a friend waiting to be made.

Her behavior reminded me of a familiar refrain from Maya Angelou: “…people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Dana came expecting the best from you, so that’s usually what she got. Her joie de vivre was contagious. It is telling I still remember her name.

I’ve thought about Dana through the years – decades – since I met her, wondering if she retained that dazzling spirit as she grew up. I can’t help but hope so.

We need the kind of people in our lives who help us recapture the joy of being alive. Expecting the best. Assuming you’re wanted and loved. Liking you for no reason other than you’re the only person in the room or yours is the nearest lap to be filled.

What if we lived like everyone we met was a friend waiting to be made?

And what other lessons might we learn from a child?

In a surprising admonishment, Jesus challenged His followers to follow the example of children –

“And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.’ And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.”
Mark 10:13-16 ESV (and a similar passage in Luke 18:15-17)

Jesus had a strong reaction to the disciples when He observed their response to children being brought to Him; He was indignant. In fact, Jesus told them they would miss out on the kingdom of God if they didn’t receive it like a child.

So, what might it look like for us to come to Jesus like children?

Perhaps we see a glimpse of this through the relationships we have with dear friends and family. Think about how you feel when you’re planning to spend time with someone with whom you share mutual love and affection. You’re likely eager and expectant. Because of the depth of your relationship, you feel safe, secure, and free to be fully yourself. You want to hear everything they have to tell you, and you’re comfortable sharing the most private pieces of your heart. You’re glad to see them come and sad to see them go.

Could this be how children intuitively felt around Jesus?

As children of God, we are known, wanted, cherished, and loved beyond the bounds of any human relationship. Maybe children have an easier time believing this to be true, and their response is simply to give back what they’ve been given, to reflect the love and acceptance they’ve received.

Why is it that what comes so naturally for a child isn’t so easy for grown-ups?

Maybe it’s harder for us to sense and receive God’s perfect love as we get older because we carry the baggage of a broken and imperfect world. We’ve been hurt by people we love in a thousand different ways. It’s hard to comprehend or even imagine the beauty and goodness of God’s love because the way we love has limits and conditions and restrictions.

Faith initiated by Christ out of love is about relationship, not rules. And, our faith flourishes when we get to know God personally and intimately, not just know facts about him. Children haven’t acquired a lot of head knowledge yet, but from an early age, they sure understand heart knowledge.

What might it look like for us to “receive the kingdom of God like a child”? I suspect it looks a lot like Dana — joyfully, expectantly, trusting God to deliver all He promises.

We might not have learned everything we need to know in kindergarten, but the somethings we learned are worth remembering. They might just hold the keys to the kingdom.

Come Sit at My Table

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Panic coursed through my veins. And that’s no surprise; it’s one of the scariest situations a human can live through:

The first lunch period at a new school. In fourth grade.

I thought I was going to be in the clear. You see, my new teacher, Mrs. Berkowski, had assigned me a “buddy” for my first week so I could learn what to do in this new and strange school, meet some people, and feel a little less awkward. (When, really, aren’t fourth graders primarily made up of awkward?)

As I grabbed my Happy Days lunchbox with The Fonz giving me his double thumbs up, I started to follow my teacher-assigned buddy, Valerie, and her group of giggly friends to the outside lunch tables.

Once she realized I was following her (maybe a little too closely), Valerie turned around, blocked my path, and said, “You’re not sitting with us. I only have to be your buddy during class.”

I am still convinced, to this day, that there is nothing that can hurt a soul more than cutting words from a nine-year-old.

So, The Fonz and I went to sit at an empty metal table so I could eat my PB&J and sliced carrot sticks without bothering anyone else. I understood my place, and it was alone.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I hung my head and bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying in this new place. I didn’t want anyone to see me break down. It would just be one more reason to not belong.

Hunched over my lunch, trying to become as small as I possibly could, I didn’t notice a girl walk up to my side, but I did hear the words, “You can sit at my table.”

And that’s when I had to keep from crying again — this time from relief. I gathered up my food and carton of milk, and The Fonz and I joined Brooke and one of her friends. For the rest of the lunch period I hardly talked. I was just so grateful to be sitting at the table with other people instead of alone.

And now, any time someone:

  • asks me and my husband out for lunch after church
  • brings a meal to our house when one of us is sick
  • sets up a coffee date
  • shares the eggs their chickens laid
  • invites me over for dinner,

I remember that feeling.

The feeling of not being alone anymore.

The feeling of “come sit at my table.”

The feeling of moving from “weird new kid” to “part of the gang.”

The feeling of belonging.

What my fourth-grade little heart longed for, and what my grown-up self recognizes now, is that my friend Brooke embodied the words of Jesus in Matthew 25:35–40 (NIV):

“‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

That simple invitation to “come sit at my table” changed more than just a lunch period. It changed my understanding of kindness, connection, and the profound role that simply sharing a meal plays in our lives. It reminded me that even the smallest gestures, like offering a seat or sharing food, can have a life-changing impact.

It did for me.

Food has always been more than sustenance; it’s a universal language of love and community. When we break bread together, we nourish not just our bodies but our souls. Every shared meal becomes an opportunity to say, “You are seen, you are valued, you belong.”

In a world where loneliness often whispers in the quiet moments, extending a hand — and a meal — can turn isolation into togetherness. Let’s be the ones who scooch over and make room at our tables, the ones who see those sitting alone and say, “Come, sit at my table.” Because when we do, we meet a double need: we feed the hunger and form the connection.

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If you’re looking for a way to easily love the people around you with nourishing food, plus incorporate meaningful rest into your life while taking care of your future self, order Kathi’s new cookbook, Sabbath Soup: Weekly Menus and Rhythms to Make Space for a Day of Rest.

Sabbath Soup would make a great Christmas gift for all the women on your list. The book includes over 100 recipes (not all of them soup), reflective prayers, and strategies to take a day of rest every week.

When you order before October 12, you’ll also receive access to Kathi’s “Sabbath Soup Shortcuts” to help you get dinner on the table with a lot less effort. Redeem Your Preorder Here.

Place your order to get your freebies. . . AND also enter to WIN one of five copies that we’re giving away*! Leave a comment on this post telling us about your favorite way to spend your Sabbath or invite someone to your table and be entered to win.

Then be SURE to tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a heartening conversation with Becky Keife and Kathi Lipp, all about real hospitality and more. Listen in on your favorite podcast app!

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close at 11:59 pm central on 10/13/24.

When You’re Tempted to Rant Against Your Neighbor

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A friend had a political post on her social media feed and I noticed a mutual friend made a comment challenging her view. I knew it was going to get ugly very fast because they didn’t know each other well but were only acquaintances. A comment war soon ensued with strangers adding in more attacks.

I decided to call both of them individually to address the post before it got any worse and it would just be awkward if they ever saw each other again in person. I knew both of them loved Jesus. But they didn’t know each other. So I gently reminded them to recognize how ranting on this one post can make them lose their witness to their non-Christian friends, plus jeopardize a potential future friendship with each other. I challenged them to think about the other person and how our lived experiences and stories shape our perspective; one heated conversation isn’t going to change that. I urged them to show grace and go to each other privately to learn about each other before discussing their political affiliations. They both took the conversation seriously, for which I am grateful.

God’s grace is the only remedy for our anger and hate towards our neighbor.

It is easy to have witnessed and tasted the grace of God, but still not fully grasp it. Living in the current divisive and polarizing culture, we are quick to choose sides and think that those who vote and live differently than we do deserve to be despised. The book of Jonah is a reminder that God’s grace isn’t based on man’s goodness. We are all imperfect and undeserving people who desperately need God’s grace.

Jonah starts with God calling him to Nineveh, the capital city of Assyria — the most powerful, violent nation of that day. Assyrians and Israelites were enemies. Immediately, Jonah decides to go in the opposite direction of God’s plan. He heads to Tarshish, which was as far west as you could go in the known Mediterranean world.

It can seem like Jonah perhaps ran because he feared the Ninevites, but in the last chapter of Jonah, we learn that he also ran away because he didn’t want them to experience God’s grace. Jonah had seen God’s grace before when God spoke through Jonah to King Jeroboam II.

2 Kings 14: 25 (NIV) says, “He was the one who restored the boundaries of Israel from Lebo Hamath to the Dead Sea, in accordance with the word of the Lord, the God of Israel, spoken through his servant Jonah son of Amittai, the prophet from Gath Hepher.”

Jonah witnessed how God’s grace restored Israel’s northern boundaries, increasing its borders in spite of Israel’s king who did evil in the eyes of the Lord. He learned that God’s grace wasn’t based on man’s goodness, but Jonah didn’t want that same grace poured out to the Ninevites.

God pursues Jonah on his rebellious journey to Tarshish with a storm. Jonah recognizes it is God, but rather than surrender and obey, he asks the sailors to toss him into the sea. But God provides a big fish to swallow Jonah.

In the belly of the big fish, Jonah realizes that the storm and the fish were God’s grace towards him in his disobedience. He was reminded again that God’s grace wasn’t based on man’s goodness. He decides to go to Nineveh, but to his surprise, the Ninevites immediately repent and cry out to God. Jonah becomes angry at God’s grace toward the people he dislikes.

It’s easy to judge Jonah, but so many of us have become like Jonah during the election season, angry and annoyed.

Listen, the enemy wants us to live with an “Us vs. Them” mentality and only choose people who are just like us, who believe and vote like us. Often, we defend our hate for our neighbor with love for country and allegiance to a political leader, forgetting that we as Christ followers have been made citizens of heaven and our allegiance belongs to Jesus, alone.

We are called to be people of grace, reflecting His heart and love to those who are different than us and even those who disagree with us. Jesus’s finished work on the cross not only tore the veil so we could have a personal relationship with God, but also demolished the wall of division and hostility among mankind.

“For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility…”
Ephesians 2:14 NIV

Jesus grafted into his family the fisherman and tax collector, Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor. He has made us one.

So as Christ followers, we don’t get to divide and categorize people into groups. We don’t get to determine who deserves grace and love, because His grace was poured out for all people. We fight the enemy’s tactic to divide the family of God and seek unity that can only come from Jesus. I pray that we become people who freely give this grace, that we have been freely given.

Begging for God’s Rescue

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“Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?”
Matthew 6:27 NLT

Everything seemed so bright. We had a wonderful life, complete with happy kids, good salaries, and a hopeful future. But with one crisis after another, that life faded away, leaving behind a pile of debt, unemployment, arguments, and so much anxiety.

What happened to my life, God? Did we do something wrong? Tell me what kind of magic-button prayer will get us out of this mess!

I cried every day. I begged God to rescue us from the land of uncertainty and give us back our old life. I coped with the only strategy I knew: worrying. I thought I could protect myself from more pain if I imagined all the worst-case scenarios in advance: What if we can’t pay this month’s bills or the medical test? What if we need a new transmission? What if our life never gets better? However, obsessing over my “what if” worries didn’t make me feel better. Instead, I felt worse!

Maybe you’re like me, faced with an uncertain season of life and stuck in the middle of hardship or heartache. Jesus understands. Jesus knew one day His closest friends would be fearful of the future and worries would overwhelm their hearts and minds. So, before His death, He made this promise: “I am leaving you with a gift — peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid” (John 14:27 NLT).

The peace Jesus gives provides supernatural calm in the midst of chaos and hardship. It’s the kind of peace we absolutely need when we’re not sure what will happen next.

It took a few years of stressed-out days and sleepless nights for me to learn to surrender my worrying ways in favor of Jesus’s peace. Though our difficult season continued, God was faithful to remind me of His promised peace.

We can rest assured that God’s promise doesn’t have an expiration date. It never runs empty. And when our “what if” worries try to steal our calm, we are only a prayer away from unshakable faith and receiving shalom from the Prince of Peace.

by Barb Roose, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

Pray with us.

Pray with us.

On the first Sunday of every month, we make space to intentionally pray for one another. Do you feel like Barb today, asking, What happened to my life, God? Are you in desperate need of the peace Jesus promises? Share your heart in the comments, then pause to pray for another sister.

Together we will encounter the Prince of Peace.

 

When You’re Longing for a Different Kind of Season

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I love autumn. Like, realllly love it. I wait all summer for summer to end with a very ‘get it over with’ kind of attitude. Here in Minnesota, you have folks of all stripes: those who live for hot summer days on the lake, those who pine for the frozen sparkle of snow, those who can’t wait to get into their spring gardens, and those of us who wait with bated breath from December through August for autumn.

Guess which group I’m in.

To be clear, I love living in a place that celebrates and embraces all four seasons. You can find me outside in them all — yep, even winter (my second favorite season!). But fall has a hold on my heart.

I’ve long adored this brief season that quietly slips in and ends by roaring into the next, blazing a trail of coziness and color in between. I celebrate my birthday in the fall, the majority of the music I stream for these months is autumn-themed, and I wrote a whole entire devotional about seeing God all autumn long. I totally deck out my home in oranges and mustards, pull out my flannels and sweaters, and celebrate each holiday in a big way. My family loves football and my son plays, so Saturdays are spent at his games, Sundays are spent cheering for our hometown teams, and I make really good snacks — even though I don’t really follow the game. Grocery store aisles and coffee shop menus teem with my beloved pumpkin spice and I soak it all up in its limited edition glory.

I just love it all. Usually, I’m chomping at the bit to dive right into my favorite season. This summer was the hottest on record and I fully expected myself to decorate early, crank up the A/C, and longingly stare at the trees, willing their leaves to change.

But here we are all the way into October with my birthday celebrated and my son’s football season over, and though our trees have all turned, it’s still warm out; that lovely brisk autumn air hasn’t yet dropped here. The grass is still green, even my garden tomatoes continue to grow, and it just doesn’t feel like autumn… outside, or in my heart.

Maybe it’s because I’m worn out from the daily grind of work, home, kids, and all that goes along with managing a life.

Maybe it’s because I’m in long-term sadness as a beloved family member struggles with serious health issues, with no end or diagnosis in sight.

Maybe it’s because my husband traveled a lot for work this summer and we went on exactly one date.

Maybe it’s because September blazed into being this year with all the back-to-school ruckus of papers, new shoes, forms, spirit days, lunch menus, and schedules, and it was all due at once (and most of the things required a check).

Maybe it’s because the laundry never ever ends, and the shoe pile in the mudroom constantly overflows, and by the time I’ve dragged out the appropriate seasonal clothing from the basement tubs we’ve nearly moved on to the next one, and I can never quite catch up to my to-do list.

Maybe it’s because for my birthday I really wanted to take a trip to Minnesota’s North Shore, where the fall foliage is iconic as the lighthouse on Lake Superior, but the trees passed their peak weeks ago. The hot, dry summer led to an earlier turning, and with palpable disappointment I missed it.

One of my favorite artists, Mary Engelbreit, has a piece that features a frazzled-looking lady and a caption that reads, life is just so daily. I relate to that wild-haired, big-eyed, ready-to-snap lady’s statement deep in my soul and I wonder if that’s it, that I’m just so buried in the daily (which I usually feel sparkles with ordinary glory) — and I can’t claw through and see the wonder of it.

It’s still there, the pull to and evidence of God’s glory shimmering right on the edges of our real lives. I think about Jesus living His short, full, very real life here on Earth and I wonder if He saw the glory in the dirt. Did He ever struggle with work? Stress out over the dishes? Feel behind on all that He knew needed to be crammed into just a few years?

Then these words in Ecclesiastes come to mind, of seasons and turning and timing, and one phrase leaps out to my heart from them:

“I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart…”
Ecclesiastes 3:10-11 NIV

And I feel seen, knowing it’s there in that place of burden that my own human heart is getting bogged down. Standing right between everything God has made beautiful, with the knowledge of eternity and all I want to fit into this one precious life getting in the way of experiencing it all.

Like the leaves on the North Shore, turned ahead of time and out of sync with my expectations, I feel out of step with this season I love so much. But those passages in Ecclesiastes remind me of the Jesus I also love so much, that His life also turned ahead of time… and yet it was actually the exact, perfect, just right time.

Every step we take is in His time, and there’s a grace and relief in that.

Even when it flies, the time is His. Even when it drags on and on, it’s His. Even when it feels off-beat, it’s His.

So I’ll look at the trees lining my street, changing colors on the timeline only they know, and breathe deep for a moment knowing the same One who changes the leaves can also change my heart.

Written by Anna E. Rendell, originally published in 2023.

 

Jesus Is Praying for You

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I awoke at four in the morning to my body thrumming with a fever, and immediately I could almost feel my heart sink within me. There is never a good time to get sick, but this is the busiest season of my year. 

Later that morning, I found myself curled up on the cold tile of my bathroom floor. 

Jesus, I whispered softly. I can’t be sick now. How am I supposed to get everything done?

I crawled back into bed and slept for two days.

Everything felt like too much. I had zero margin. I was living at max capacity. And in a month that already was slipping through my fingers, I now found myself feverish and ill.

But being sick didn’t stop the tasks from piling up or one day turning into the next.

When sickness comes, or margins get too thin, or life feels too hectic, it can so often feel like we are alone. We’re told Jesus never leaves us or forsakes us, and I believe that, I do. What impacts me most in these moments is not just remembering that Jesus is with me and around me, but knowing that He is actively interceding for me.

Jesus actually prayed for us. For you. How astounding is that? We read very clearly in John 17 that Jesus spent time with His Father, crying out on behalf of His disciples, and all believers – present and future – making very specific requests for them. Jesus was committed to praying for others. Jesus was committed to praying for you.

John 17 walks us through Jesus’s prayer. He asked God to fill believers with joy. He asked God to protect those who believed in Him from the evil one. He asked for us to be sanctified by the truth, which means Jesus appealed to the Father to declare us holy and purified. 

Jesus was praying for you — that you would become set apart for God. That you would choose to say no to the things this world offers to bring satisfaction, and instead lean into what God knows will truly satisfy. 

I can’t help but think that since Jesus took the time to pray these words, it must be very important to the heart of God. Many of the words in the prayers Jesus prayed weren’t recorded in the Bible, but this one was.

But not only did Jesus pray for you then, Jesus prays for you now. Jesus is praying for you.

Romans 8:34 promises that in this very moment, Jesus is at the right hand of God, interceding for you. Can you imagine if you heard the voice of Jesus in the next room over, praying on your behalf? But it’s not a thought that only lives in your imagination. It’s reality. Jesus prayed for you two thousand years ago, and He prays for you presently — continually.

If margins are tight or life is feeling too much, remember this: the One who died to set you free is praying for you right now.

If it feels like the world is constantly urging you to seek fulfillment in it, pray what Jesus prayed: to be set apart. If you struggle with living under a weight of anxiety and sadness, pray what Jesus prayed: to be filled with joy. If you sense the enemy coming against you, pray what Jesus prayed: to be protected from the evil one.

Then watch how God moves and answers this prayer as you pray it for yourself and others — just as Jesus prayed it for you.

What the Olympics Teach Us About Delighting in Diversity

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My husband Shawn and my late husband Ericlee both independently and collectively dreamed of going to the Olympics in person one day. That dream came to fruition on a humid August night this summer under a star-kissed sky in the north of France. Shawn and I entered the stadium with our three teenage daughters. We spent the next three evenings at the Stade de France, watching the finals of Track & Field at the 2024 Paris Olympics.

Reports said 10,500 athletes competed overall in this Olympic Games from 206 nations. But perhaps more impressive is that this was the most well-attended Olympic Games in history. In the colossal stadium, the energy of 80,000-plus people was electric. Our family of five treasured this opportunity to be a part of it.

We cheered wildly with the rest of the world while my all-time favorite American athlete, Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone, smashed her own world record in the women’s 400-meter hurdles to finish in 50.37 seconds. Many professional female runners can’t run 400 meters (with no hurdles) in that time. 

Sydney is special because of her poise, her speed, and her commitment to giving God the glory while achieving superhero status in her events. She joins the ranks of many athletes who broke records, acquired medals, and used the Olympics as an opportunity to share their faith.

The Olympic Games started in 776 B.C. in Greece. Part of the tradition of the games through the years is that the host country welcomes and offers safe passage for visitors from around the world to take part in the games. Weapons are laid down; politics are set aside; people rise above their differences to cheer their favorite athletes to victory.

Our family experienced first-hand this coming together of people from across the globe. As we ran through the streets of Paris and sat on the edge of our seats at the stadium, I was overcome by the spirit of welcome and community we felt.

Throughout the week, we met people from many countries. We walked to the sessions with our new German next-door neighbors, a family who also rented an Airbnb in the neighborhood. We befriended an Irish dad and his 8-year-old daughter who were on a daddy-daughter getaway week, traveling the country to attend different Olympic events. We dished on the Metro with a group of guys from Spain about plans for the 2028 Olympics in LA. We borrowed binoculars from a German couple next to us in the stands so we could get a better view of the long jump. We high-fived fellow Americans after victories in the relays and 200-meter race. We cheered until our voices grew hoarse with the Brits, French, Pakistanis, Nigerians, and Dutch in our spectator section.

The truth is: we are living in a tumultuous time in history. Wars rage between countries, guns infiltrate schools, trafficking steals the innocence of children, and elections deepen the fissures between us. And yet, in that open-air stadium with thousands of people made in God’s image from around the globe, I felt like I had a glimpse of the vision John describes in Revelation:

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice:

“Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb.”
Revelation 7:9-10 NIV

In this passage, John describes the completion of God’s salvation plan for the world. God sent his son Jesus to die on the cross for sinners like you and me. He rose again, conquered sin and death, and ascended to the Father where we will meet Him one day. He is waiting for the right time to return and welcome all believers from all nations, tribes, and languages to join Him in heaven. 

David gives us a taste of this in Psalm 22: “All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, for dominion belongs to the LORD and he rules over the nations” (Psalm 22:27-28 NIV).

Maybe you didn’t attend the Olympics, but you stayed up watching the games and got a glimpse of the glory too. What we experienced during the Olympics and Paralympics pales in comparison to this moment at the end of history, when we will all celebrate the ultimate victory of salvation and worship Jesus, our Champion, together in unity.

Paul echoes it in Romans 5:5-6 (NIV): “May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

In the meantime, what if we purposely live differently than the tumultuous world around us? What if we offer hospitality to strangers? What if we work toward reconciliation in the church and our communities? What if we decide to raise our voices in worship alongside brothers and sisters who are different from ourselves? 

In this way, we might step into the spirit of the Olympics year-round. And more importantly, we might walk in the shalom of Jesus, the Lamb who will one day delight in our diversity as He sits on the throne.

Dorina helps people feast on the glory of God through her weekly Glorygram and Global Glory Chasers podcast. 

You’re Not Too Old – and You’re Not Too Young Either

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It’s a Sunday morning, and I’m sitting at the back of the gathering room at a senior-living center.

Eight people are facing a TV screen fixed to the wall. There’s a smattering of wheeled walkers in various colors, with those flip-up, padded seats where you can keep your purse and your hanky.

Behind me, I can hear a machine pumping someone’s supplemental oxygen.

It’s Sunday morning, and in this room, we are watching a live-streamed church service. I’m with my mom. She lives here now, and while living in a facility wasn’t Mom’s first choice, this is life, and she’s making the most of it. She’s meeting new people, trying new things, and showing up on Sunday mornings, like a champ, with a small group of people who – like her – love Jesus.

The pastor’s message on the TV screen is stirring, for sure. But there’s a whole ‘nother sermon being preached in the room, and I’m captivated. I scan the room and see a handful of men and women in their 70s, 80s, and 90s, leaning in.

They are leaning toward the TV, but even more, they are leaning in toward God to take note of what He wants to say to them right now.

Instinctively, they seem to know that God is continuing to grow them – just like He did from the very beginning of their lives. They seem to understand that one doesn’t reach a certain point of having “mastered” this thing called faith.

And isn’t that what we all need to know, no matter what age we are?

If we are still breathing on this earth, God is still working. God is molding us, growing us, and conforming us more and more to His likeness. It’s just what He does.

That’s true when we are in our teens and 20s … and it’s equally true when we are in our 80s or 90s.

God didn’t bring us to earth as fully matured humans, with our intellect and spirituality completely formed. Instead, He deliberately chose to grow us slowly through each stage of life – proof that He continues working in us until we breathe our last breath.

When I read the Bible, I see how true this is. Many people from the Bible “grew up” with God and served Him until the very end of their lives.

Moses served God until his death at 120 years old (Deuteronomy 34:5-7).

Joshua remained faithful until his death at 110 years old (Joshua 24:29-31).

Daniel continued to grow with God, and never wavered in his faith. He honored God even in his old age.

And Paul dedicated his life to preaching the gospel, enduring many hardships along the way. Near the end of his life, Paul said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7 NIV).

That is what we are called to do – to grow one day at a time, one step at a time, until we have finished the race.

If you are wondering right now if God has stopped “growing” you, be assured: HE HAS NOT. He was steadfast and faithful to Moses, to Joshua, to Daniel, to Paul, and to countless others in biblical times, and throughout world history.

And He is steadfast and faithful to you and me today. He is growing us, even now.

I challenge you to pray this prayer to God today: “Lord, keep working in my heart. Keep growing my faith. Keep me close to You all the days of my life, until I take my last breath.”

And then, take a deep breath… and count on the fact that God loves that prayer. He is answering it already.

God is never done working in our hearts and lives, no matter how young or old we are.

Jennifer’s book, Growing Slow, helps you embrace the fact that God grows us no matter where we are in our journey — even when the growth feels slow.

The Power of God Displayed Through the Gospel

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If you’ve been a Christian for any length of time, you likely know what the gospel is. It’s the Good News of what Jesus has done for humanity. You understand that through it, we are restored to a relationship with God. Many of us can point to the moment we believed in our hearts and confessed that Jesus is Lord. His kindness led us to repentance, and His grace opened our eyes to the truth. Salvation, redemption, forgiveness, healing, and freedom became ours. We were transferred from darkness into light. Once orphans, we are now daughters of God. Once enemies, we are now His friends. THIS IS THE GOOD NEWS!

At my church, the gospel is preached consistently and powerfully. But in the past couple of years, God has called us to more — not just as individuals but as a unified body. Our youth pastors sparked a fire by teaching a simple tool called 3 Circles, used by the North American Mission Board, to equip our young people to share the gospel. This training ignited a passion in them to step out in faith and evangelize in our city.

One Sunday, our entire congregation felt led to take the gospel beyond the church walls. We went into the neighborhood, knocking on doors, praying for people, and sharing the message of Jesus. This wasn’t just an outreach; it was an anointed movement of God. We felt His power flowing through us as we stepped into His calling to make disciples.

This past August, we embraced another shift, moving our prayer service to Wednesday nights and using Sunday afternoons for city outreach. We all received the same gospel training, and for three weeks straight, we went out to share the gospel in our community. At the same time, others remained in the church, interceding in worship and prayer for those evangelizing and the people they would encounter. It was a beautiful picture of unity — young and old, new believers and seasoned saints, people of every race, coming together with one mission.

The testimonies that followed were nothing short of awe-inspiring. People accepted Christ, recommitted their lives, experienced answered prayers, and witnessed God’s provision. The book of Acts came alive in our midst, and we knew that what God was doing in our church wasn’t just for us— it was for the world around us.

Acts 2:1-4 describes the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost. Our gatherings have always reflected this, but in August, there was a fresh anointing, a greater grace to carry the gospel. God poured out His Spirit in new ways, filling us with boldness, courage, joy, and expectation. That faith became fuel as we took the gospel into a city filled with darkness.

Yet, if we’re honest, the Great Commission is often neglected. Fear of rejection, feeling unqualified, or simply focusing too much on our own lives can hold us back. Sometimes we lack compassion for the lost. But God is calling us higher. He’s stirring hearts, breaking chains, and inviting us into the incredible work of sharing His love with a broken world.

At my church, we’ve also seen God move mightily at Louisiana State University, where students have encountered His power, love, and grace. Many have come to Christ, been healed, delivered, and baptized. But let me be clear—my church isn’t special. We were just obedient. God gave us a deep love for the lost, and we stepped into the calling to be salt and light, to give an account of the hope we have.

We’re all called to this. As a royal priesthood, entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation, let us grow in our passion for those who don’t yet know Him. People are desperate for something to fill their emptiness. They are waiting for someone to declare the Good News of Christ boldly. And that someone could be you.

So, I encourage you to take that step of faith. Share the gospel where God is calling you. The same Spirit that moved in Acts is alive in you. Leave a comment and let’s celebrate the testimonies of lives transformed and pray for even more opportunities to be His hands and feet. 

Where can you share the gospel today? Let’s do this together!

Which Voice Is the Loudest in Your Life?

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I’ve been told that I’m too naïve. That always believing the best about people will get me into trouble. I’ve been told I’m too sensitive, too emotional, too positive.

I am sensitive, emotional, and positive. I am also wired with extra empathy receptors—I can feel all the joy, all the sorrow, all the tension in the room. Sometimes it short-circuits my system. (Hello, anxiety.)

There have been times I’ve believed all these things add up to one big, consuming weakness. I believed that life would be better if I could just feel less, care less, and be more logical, more “realistic.”

But then I learned to listen to the voice of God. And the voice of “you’re too much this and not enough that” is never His.

That voice sounds like shame. God’s voice sounds like love.
That voice belittles. God’s voice uplifts.
That voice stifles. God’s voice celebrates.
That voice condemns. God’s voice calls.

The voice of God calls me — and you — to be exactly who He created. God’s creation was never meant to fit in a mold for the approval of others; we are made to fulfill a unique calling, bestowed by the Creator, to serve and expand His kingdom.

But in order to answer God’s call on our lives, we have to know who He calls us. And to receive who God calls us, we have to reject the false names spoken over us. This is crucial. Why? Because a cup full of mud can’t hold fresh water.

The process of releasing the false to receive the true isn’t anything new. Just flip through your Bible and you’re bound to land on the story of someone battling worldly voices before stepping into God’s truth.

Take Moses. Do you think he ever heard the whispers, Traitor, Murderer, Stutterer, Deserter? The facts proved that Moses did live in cross-cultural tension, he did kill an Egyptian guard in a rage for justice, he did lack eloquence in speech, and he did run away to the desert.

But God looks beyond the facts of our lives to the identity of our souls.

Who was Moses, really? He was God’s leader, deliverer, and friend. The one the Lord Almighty spoke face-to-face with inside a tent and met with on a mountain. Moses was God’s staff holder and mouthpiece, the one through whom He parted the Red Sea and delivered the Ten Commandments. The world judged Moses. God called him.

Look at Gideon. The angel of the Lord called him mighty warrior! But Gideon called himself the weakest and the least.

Abram called himself old and his wife, Sarai, barren, but God gave them new names. Sarah was meant to be a mother and God deemed Abraham the father of many nations.

When Jesus called Peter to follow Him, Peter only saw himself as a sinful man. But Jesus knew that Peter’s true self was a fisher of men.

Are you getting the picture? The bleeding woman was viewed as a hopeless outcast; Jesus called her daughter. The man on the cross next to Jesus was labeled condemned; Jesus called him forgiven. Saul lived by the labels Pharisee, prestigious pedigree, and persecutor of Christians. But the Lord called him Paul, the one who would no longer oppress Christ but most boldly proclaim Him.

And over and over and over, on every page of Scripture, in every season of history, God untangles the lies that bind hearts and tears off the scales that blind eyes so His people can be set free, to see and receive their true identity from Him.

It’s miraculous grace every time.

And? It’s often vulnerable to not only receive our true identity but to believe it. Over and over we see people learning to walk in their calling and doing it scared. Messing up. Believing and then doubting. Running and then stumbling.

And it’s okay.

It can take time to unlearn the false and relearn the true. Sometimes I’m still tempted to push down my feelings, tamp down my heart, and just stay quiet. Sometimes I allow myself to absorb the cynicism and criticism of the world—and what we absorb eventually leaks out!

But then I remember who God has called me: His Word Warrior, Hope Wielder, Mouthpiece of Comfort.

God has put hope in my heart so I can confidently offer it to others. He’s made me sensitive so I know how to share His comfort. He’s made me insightful and outspoken so I can battle the darkness with the words He provides.

Walking in the name Jesus calls me isn’t always easy, but it is the greatest joy of my life. There is always joy in truth, joy in surrender, joy in obedience.

What voices are you listening to today? It’s time to silence the voices of shame and discouragement and turn up the volume of God’s voice of love. What God calls you is the truest thing about you. Ask Him your name.

Then receive it. Believe it. Live it.

Becky loves teaching women to hear God’s voice and walk in their true identity. If you want to know who God calls you so you can step into what He’s calling you to do, learn more about The Identity Intensive.

 

 

If You’ve Ever Asked, “Who am I to…?”

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“Therefore, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh so that you may lead my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” But Moses asked God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and that I should bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” He answered, “I will certainly be with you, and this will be the sign to you that I am the one who sent you: when you bring the people out of Egypt, you will all worship God at this mountain.”
Exodus 3:10-12 CSB

When we meet Moses in Exodus 3, he has a complicated history. He was an Israelite, born into slavery in Egypt. In an effort to spare his life, his mother placed him in a basket in the Nile River, where he was discovered by the daughter of Pharaoh. Though Pharaoh had given the order to kill all Israelite baby boys, she was moved by his cries and adopted him as her own. So Moses grew up with prestige and privilege — a life completely opposite from that of his people.

One day, in an ill-conceived effort to stand up for his own, Moses killed an Egyptian whom he witnessed beating a Hebrew slave. He thought what he’d done was a secret, but word got out and he had to flee from Egypt, losing everything — his identity, his family, his life as he knew it.

Moses settled in the desert land of Midian, where he got married and settled down. It’s in this mundane season of life, while tending his father-in-law’s sheep, that God met Moses in a burning bush.

Knowing his history, we can understand why Moses responded to God as he did: “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and that I should bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exodus 3:11). He couldn’t see how or why he would be qualified to lead the Israelites to freedom.

How many times have we asked ourselves the same question when we’ve felt called to something big or impossible?

  • Who am I to sing in front of a crowd?
  • Who am I to raise my children when I have no idea what I’m doing?
  • Who am I to speak out about a leader who’s done wrong to me?
  • Who am I to share my story when so many other people have more powerful testimonies to share?

The list could go on and on.

A thousand reasons might prove why you’re not qualified, but when God asks you to do something, all He’s looking for is a yes.

Today’s reading is an excerpt from the Courageous Influence Bible Study, by Grace P. Cho with stories from (in)courage writers.

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