Start the Growing Now

Start the Growing Now

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I’ve been thumbing through a new book — a revised and expanded edition of how to raise and sell cut flowers the organic way. The irony is that I don’t really need an expanded version. There’s nothing in my repertoire to expand since my success rate with gardening is pretty bad. Spring always sprouts my grandiose dreams of living off our land all Little House on the Prairie-like, but by July, reality sets in, and the scorching North Carolina summers crush my sky-high aspirations.

I want it to be different, but I wonder how to change.

The Holy Spirit has also convicted me: Jen, you can’t keep taking shortcuts. Trust me and do the hard things.

At the start of spring, everything still looks brown, dirty, and dead. Flowers are a long way off. Snapped branches from winter’s ice storms litter the yard alongside mounds of mud our mischievous dogs dug. It always feels overwhelming to even start.

But something new is stirring, even when the scene is barren. The first chapter of my gardening book prioritizes the critical importance of soil preparation. To the naked eye, there’s no beauty to be found in the drudgery of manual labor, yet without tilling, mulching, fertilizing, and composting, nothing much grows except weeds. Come summertime, the plethora of weeds in my garden is evidence of the little work I put in, and I’m certain this is why my homesteading lifestyle dreams never amounted to much. I love my shortcuts.

I’ve never invested the time necessary to allow my crops to flourish. I tend to jump over that part. I procrastinate until the weather is beautiful. I wait until working outside brings a spring to my step, and I envision filling my vintage mason jars with cut flowers that I grew myself, just like the cover of my new gardening book. But 300 pages in, I realize the hard work starts when the ground appears dead.

If I want flowers to flourish this summer, I need to start now with the behind-the-scenes work that no one will witness.

So I’m starting something new. I spent a week outside — cold and lonely — tilling, digging, and planting unique bulbs. I hate it. I tell myself I’ll grow to love the process, but nope. There are no guarantees I ever will, but I’m putting in the hard work, only worrying about those things I can control and burying the excuses I’ve held
onto for so long.

“Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.”
Colossians 2:7 NLT

I will wait for the flower roots to grow deep. Sometimes the hardest work begins in the waiting, but I’ll be hopeful and expectant, and still give myself lots of grace. Though I’m focused on the physical act of gardening, I’m convicted again of how it mimics my spiritual life.

My desire is for others to see the love of Jesus in me so clearly, but I can’t expect my roots to grow deep and flourish with joy, peace, and gratitude amidst increasingly difficult times if I’m not willing to discipline myself and prioritize the necessary time with the Lord. To understand and step into living within the fullness of His nature, I must know Him intimately. That requires time with Him, and not just reading an Instagram post about Him. It requires discipline. My free-spirited personality doesn’t like discipline. I wish I could wrap this concept up in a pretty bow, but this kind of discipline is hard, my friends. In many aspects of my life, whether I’m working on a physical, spiritual, or emotional goal, it often feels painful.

“No discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”
Hebrews 12:11 CSB

Did you catch that? For those trained, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace. It’s worth the exhaustion to cultivate our beings. So when I’m feeling fragile, God is my only foundation. When anxiety sets in, He is the answer. When moments of doubt erupt, His truth is what moves those mountains.

Being rooted in His Word and remaining in His Spirit brings the redemption story to life. It sparks a rebirth and revival, which is what I’m seeking this season. Aren’t you?

There are no guarantees, and I have much to do, but new life starts in the work and the waiting — the beautiful tension that’s always found before things flourish.

Will you join me in starting? When the flowers bloom, we’ll remember their beauty began long ago with dedicated hours of work and waiting about which no one knew. Come find me then. I’ll let you know what’s growing in my garden.

Article by Jen Schmidt from the (in)courage archives and featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

The spring issue of DaySpring’s Everyday Faith magazine is available now, and you’re going to love it!

From cover to cover, you will find stories and articles in Everyday Faith magazine to inspire hope, encourage your heart, and remind you that you are loved by God. You’ll be reminded that no matter what you are facing and no matter what life brings your way, God is making all things new. You will find tips on how to create a peaceful home and how to study the Bible, anecdotes about persevering through difficult times, and stories of Easter traditions.

The article above is just one of many featured in Everyday Faith magazine, which is perfect for gifting to a friend, Bible Study sister, Sunday School teacher, or neighbor. And to help you do just that, we’re giving away* FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend!

Leave a comment telling us to whom you’d gift a copy, and we’ll draw five winners.

*Giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 4/7/2025 at 11:59 pm central. 

The Gift of the Family of God

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Have you ever made a new friend that quickly became like family? They came into your life in just the right season. They were a blessing in more ways than you could count. Now, have you ever met a whole family that fit that description?

Well, I did! Let me introduce you to the Levert family…Tim, Tasha, Elle, Zoe, and Ashton. This incredible family has Louisiana roots, but has lived in other states. They had been back in my neck of the woods for a few years following the Lord’s calling to plant a local church called Mustard Seed church after years in various ministries. In July of 2024, the fruit of a God-dream came to fruition. They opened Mustard Seed Creamery. Their desire was to be a blessing and benefit to their local community.

That’s where I come in. A friend told me about the creamery a couple of weeks after they opened. It immediately sounded like a place I would love. Little did I know, it would love me in return. Before I went, I did what we do in the 21st century. I scoped out all of the information on the internet. That’s totally normal, right? I found out about the church, where a few of my friends attend. I discovered everyone in the family is ridiculously talented and anointed in worship, playing instruments, and songwriting. Tasha is a gifted creative, communicator, and counselor. Tim is also a gifted communicator and leader. Each daughter has an abundance of gifts, talents, and skills. This family walks with such purpose.

The first time I walked into the creamery, it felt like home. There was this weighty peace that came over me. It was the place that I didn’t know I longed for. When I met Tasha, she felt safe to me. I couldn’t articulate or explain it at the time. I actually wanted her to come and speak to Baton Rouge’s chapter of Christian Women in Media. She was delighted to say yes to this request.

This all led to me essentially going to the creamery once or twice a week. I feel like I have found my very own Central Perk, Luke’s Diner, or Cheers. I walk in and everybody knows my name. There, I get to take a break from all my worries, and they are indeed, always glad I came. I finally have a place to hang out, a place where I will always be welcomed and wanted.

The welcome didn’t stop with Tasha. Her husband, all three of their adult daughters, two sons-in-law, a boyfriend, and a granddaughter all opened their arms and hearts to me. When I go to the creamery, I sit at the table with whichever family is working or just there at the time. Questions are asked and answered. Laughs are abundant. Puzzles are assembled. Dreams are dreamed. Memories are made. History and trust are being built.

I have had the joy of speaking words of life, hope, and encouragement into their lives. They, in turn, have prayed for and encouraged me. I was even invited to enjoy Tim’s famous gumbo and play games on Christmas Day.

Mustard Seed Creamery has become my safe space, but even more so, the Levert family has become a safe space for me. The past few years have been beyond painful when it comes to friendships. I have been hurt, disappointed, and disillusioned. Many times, I have been unseen, forgotten, and rejected. To love people well, (though admittedly not perfectly) and to have them not reciprocate that love has been devastating.

I have never been this lonely in all of my life. It has taken its toll on me. But God. He surprised me as only He could.

Galatians 6:10 is a verse that I return to often when I think of the family of God. “Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers” (NIV). The main way the watching world around us knows that we belong to Christ is characterized by how we love one another.

This kind of love is filled with the fruit of the Spirit. It is loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, and self-controlled. This is the love of Jesus at work within us and through us.

I have received this kind of love from the Levert family in abundance. I have been beyond blessed by this overflow. I have been adopted as a younger sister and auntie. Faces light up when I arrive. And I am missed if there is too much time in between visits.

It was the grace of God to gift me with a whole family to love and be loved by. It feels like the early church to me…giving and receiving, loving and being loved. There are no strings attached or unrealistic expectations. It feels like God’s heart for His Body that extends beyond the walls of a church building.

This dark world is indeed a brighter place because of the light that this family carries. I thank God for them and the love they have generously poured out in my life. I’m so grateful that the Lord knew I needed this gift.

If you have a friend who has become family, I’d love to hear about them. If you’re longing for one, I’d love to pray for you!

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

Search for Hope in the Midst

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Goodness, what do you do, and what do you pray for when there’s more bad news? Another hospital visit. A new prayer request. A sympathy card (or a pile of them). It takes endurance to pray hopeful prayers when the recent reality has been more hurt than healing.

It feels unnatural to rejoice, to praise, to hope.

In the weary thick of it, I’m trying to ask, “Lord, where is Your heart in this?”

Because that’s the delicate part. I don’t want to misinterpret this season as His neglect. Though, can I be honest? It can feel like it. It feels long and crushing. And right when I’m teetering on questioning His character I read things like, “The Lord will fight for you” (Exodus 14:14) and “He will be with you” (Deuteronomy 31:8).

So where do we go for a better view of His character? Where do we find hope at a time like this?

Flip to Romans 15:13. It says “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (CSB). Did you catch that? He’s the God of hope! Thank goodness. And the God of hope wants to fill you with all joy and peace until you’re overflowing with hope again. And it’s not by a new routine, or more sleep (though that may help). It’s by the power of the Holy Spirit. He just asks us to believe in this God of hope.

These are your reminders to hold onto hope. Nature will show up as a steady reminder of a steady God. You will walk barefoot in the green grass; you will once again feel the sun warm upon your face. You will see peonies bloom and strawberries turn ripe. You will have fresh vision for where the Lord is calling you, and it will be personal, beautiful, and full-circle. You will feel life again, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. You will be refreshed and taken care of.

Because the God of hope is also the God of redemption and the God of joy. And with Him, new life always, always comes.

Click here to download the wordsearch that accompanies this devotion, both from The Wordsearch Book: Hope!

The wordsearches found in this book are for the one in the weary winter. The one feeling ache after ache, just barely holding the tears back. To the one like the psalmist in Psalm 88 whose “eyes are dim with grief,” as they call to the Lord for help. To the one who sees no signs of life yet but knows that Scripture promises it.

See, a few years back, Margot Groner stumbled upon a wordsearch book in her local grocery store and started a routine of solving one before bed each night. She quickly realized that word searches weren’t living up to their potential. They could be more than just little books to help pass the time. They could be a way to pause, reflect, and enjoy; they could even be a way to spend time with the Lord if what was inside them was intentional.

So that’s what DaySpring and Margot created! The Wordsearch Book: Hope pulls together quotes and Scripture on all things hope, and creates word banks out of them. In this book, you’ll find over 70 word searches, along with devotions and journaling prompts for you to soak up all the goodness. As you search for words from verses on hope, you will simultaneously be meditating on the Scripture.

The Wordsearch Book: Hope is your childhood wordsearch book all grown up and gorgeous!

So fun, right? Well, good news — we’re giving away FIVE copies*!

To enter, leave a comment on this article sharing how you stay pointed toward hope, and we’ll choose five winners.

Then this weekend, be sure to tune into the (in)courage podcast for a GREAT conversation with Becky Keife and Margot Groner as they talk all things hope, words, and more!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only, and closes at 11:50 pm central on 4/6/2025.

You Are Fully Known and Deeply Loved

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“O Lord, you have examined my heart
    and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up.
    You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
    and when I rest at home.
    You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
    even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
    You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too great for me to understand!”
Psalm 139:1-6 NLT

Loneliness can creep in even when we’re surrounded by people. We long to be truly seen, deeply understood, and fully known. Yet, no matter how connected we are, human relationships can still leave us feeling unseen.

But God — He sees you completely.

Psalm 139 reminds us that the God of the universe knows every detail of our lives. He sees when you rise and when you rest. He understands the thoughts you can’t put into words. He goes before you, stands beside you, and covers you with His hand of blessing.

You are never alone. Never forgotten. Never unknown.

So, when loneliness whispers lies, let this truth speak louder: You are already fully known and deeply loved by the One who made you.

Let that sink in. Let it comfort you today.

Hope Deferred is Still Hope + a Hoping for Spring Recipe

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Ask any Midwesterner about “fake spring” and they’ll surely have a story for you about packing away all the coats on a warm day only to have to pull the winter gear back out the next week. While I’m all for a shortened winter, I think these false-start spring days have something to teach us about the spiritual practice of living expectantly — even when we don’t feel particularly hopeful.

We brought our newborn son home from the hospital on Easter. Tucking a pastel green blanket around him and pulling a knitted cap over his head, I marveled at how much he resembled an Easter egg. After a long winter and an even longer pregnancy, it would finally be spring — the season of new life! And then, as we arrived on our doorstep, the wind howled, clouds covered the sun, and it started snowing.

My baby cried. So did I.

A couple weeks into the winter-that-wouldn’t-end, the sun reemerged and offered us an unseasonably warm day. Had we fast-forwarded over spring and gone right into summer? I knew it was too good to be true — the day before we’d been wearing puffy coats. I squeezed my postpartum body into a sundress, put the baby in his carrier, and located two matching shoes for my always-moving toddler. We were going on a walk. We were going to seize the summer day!

And seize it we did. I sat on the park bench and slipped my tired feet from my sandals, wiggling my toes in the sandbox and letting myself breathe in hope that while the beautiful forecast wouldn’t last through the week, it was also true that winter wouldn’t last forever. I watched my toddler conquer the playground, and as I felt the sun on my face, I also felt a glimmer of hope that the postpartum exhaustion wouldn’t stretch over my body and soul forever. Better days were ahead.

And then, wouldn’t you know? The very next day, it snowed.

But I’ve never minded false-start sunny days. Hope deferred is still hope. We need the small offerings of hope in our lives to remind us that just as there is darkness around us, light is near too.

From heartbreaking headlines to the everyday aches and anxieties that come with being human, we have every reminder that the world isn’t as it should be. And that’s why we have to cling to the promise of hope, even if hope itself still feels out of reach.

On that warm spring day years ago, I knew there were bound to be more cold days to come. I knew my circumstances weren’t going to suddenly change. I was in a difficult and demanding season of life that wasn’t going to improve with the changing of the natural seasons. But the warmth of the sun tethered me to the reminder that even though life didn’t feel particularly hopeful, hope was on the horizon. Someday, my baby wouldn’t be colicky. Someday, my toddler would potty train.

The expectancy of hope was enough.

Each headline feels heavier than the last these days. I find myself wondering how much pain our tender human hearts can hold. It’s in these moments that I need spiritual eyes to see glimmers of hope in hard times.

It’s easy to close up our hearts and say hope is too far gone from a season, situation, or person. But it’s the braver choice to have the audacity to believe hope will return to our hearts even so. Even if. Even when.

In Mark 9, a man is desperate for relief for his son who is having seizures. He begs Jesus to help his child, and says, “I believe. Help me in my unbelief.” In times when hope seems lost, maybe the best we can do is get really honest with the One who knows every ache of our heart by praying this prayer: I hope. Help me in my hopelessness.

We cannot change the weather just as we cannot stop a warring world. But we can hold tight to the expectancy of hope. This is not the end. Despair does not have the final say. Cynicism won’t win. Winter won’t last forever.

Holding onto the expectancy of hope is not ignorant optimism. It’s not frilly or fanciful, but rather it sits in the pain and pushes through it. Hope is dirt under our fingernails as we plant tulip bulbs in the fall, believing that even though the days are going to get darker and colder, spring will someday come. Hope is us raking soggy leaves into piles to make way for shoots of green grass that will burst forth — maybe not tomorrow or next week or next month but someday.

The expectancy of hope is defiant. It’s a stubborn, gritty belief that even when our worlds are caving in, the groans of creation will not last forever.

We can come to Jesus with our most honest of prayers: I don’t have hope right now. But with Your help, I have hope that someday, I will have hope again.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Devotion by Kayla Craig from the (in)courage archives.

—

And a new recipe for you!

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

Lemon Filled Cupcakes

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Bake Time: 8 minutes
Makes 6-8 servings.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 (15.25-oz.) box lemon cake mix
  • Ingredients to prepare cake mix (water, oil, eggs)
  • 1 (11-oz.) jar of lemon curd (or use strawberry or blueberry jam)
  • 1 (16-oz.) container of lemon frosting
  • Optional: Zest of 1 large lemon and/or white coarse decorating sugar, for sprinkling on top

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Line two 12-cup muffin tins with paper liners; set aside.
  2. Make cupcakes according to directions on cake mix box, also following instructions for baking. After cupcakes are baked, let them cool completely.
  3. Cut a round hole in the center of each cupcake, about the size of a penny, going about halfway deep into the cupcake. You can use an apple corer or small paring knife to do this (an apple corer works the best).
  4. Using a small spoon, fill each cupcake hole with lemon curd (or strawberry or blueberry jam).
  5. Frost cupcakes with the lemon frosting—first, place a small dollop of frosting in the center of each cupcake to cover the filling, then add as much additional frosting as desired and spread over the entire top of each cupcake. Top the frosting with a sprinkle of lemon zest or coarse sugar, or with a little of both! Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Find beautiful serving pieces to use for your cupcakes from the Mary & Martha collection — available at DaySpring.com. And tell us – what’s your favorite spring-is-coming treat?

For the Times You Feel Like Your Story Ends in Failure

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I wake up with a start, then turn to look at the clock.

3:49am lights up the dark.

I decide to get up and go to the bathroom because I have the bladder of a 3-year-old, and this is what I do.

When I get back to bed, I lie down and close my eyes. But in the 90 seconds, I’ve been awake, my mind is off to the races, mentally rolodexing through the many things I’ve done wrong or gotten wrong during various times of my life. This has been my middle-of-the-night routine for a while now, and I don’t know if it’s because of perimenopause or my own nature that’s prone to dwell on things. Either way, when I start thinking of all my real and perceived past mistakes, it causes my heart to sink to my ankles with the same ol’, same ol’ message: You’ll always be the girl who messes things up — who IS a mess.

So, I do what every sleep expert says I shouldn’t do and grab my phone as a distraction. I watch a few Beverly Hills, 90210 clips because I’m someone who finds comfort in shows from the 1900’s.

But then I decide that listening to a devotional on the Dwell app is a better choice. While the narrator’s slow, steady voice reading Scripture calms my heart rate and centers my thoughts on Christ, it takes me a good half hour to fall back to sleep.

In the morning, my husband, David, comments that he could tell I didn’t sleep very well last night. He asks if anything is wrong, and I immediately start crying. (Can I blame the fact that I cry so easily these days on perimenopause too?)

As he hugs me, I talk into his shoulder, “Well, I guess I’ve just been plagued by this overwhelming thought lately that keeps me awake.”

He responds, “What thought is that?”

I wipe my nose and look up at him, “That I mess things up too much, and that’s the end of the story.”

David draws his head back, “I know you know it doesn’t work that way.”

I reply, “I know that in my head, but not in my heart.”

David answers, “Well, it’s not true for you or anyone. God’s grace is higher and deeper than our mistakes.”

He’s right, of course. But old habits die hard.

Sometime during my teen years, I overheard my dad on the phone. The person on the other end of the line must’ve asked if he ever had to get onto me about school. My dad replied, “Get onto Kristen about homework or grades? Nah, I never have to do that. She’s much harder on herself about that than I could ever be on her.”

At the same time, I grew up believing I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes, and there’s a part of me that believes that is still true today. The hard thing, you see, is that I’m well aware that I’m as flawed as anyone and do make mistakes. And I can begin to believe that, like a checking account with too little money, just maybe my many mistakes and shortcomings are going to overdraw on God’s grace.

Or maybe He simply looks down on me, and with a red magic marker, marks an “F” for failure.

A few nights later, I’m mulling all this over while flipping through a notecard stack of Bible verses I’ve had for years. When I get to this verse, I stop flipping:

“This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.”
1 John 3:19-20 NIV

Now I’m crying yet again (of course!) because the relief I felt from it is palatable.

God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.

God may convict, but He doesn’t condemn. He knows what I’ve done and, from that place of conviction, what I need to ask His forgiveness for. In those times, He forgives because His grace always outruns my very real mistakes. As the Chris Tomlin song, “Indescribable”, says, “He knows the depths of my heart and He loves me the same.”

But He also knows what I’m holding onto from a place of condemnation, and His grace says, Let it go, Kristen, and let it go for good. 

Yes, we have personal accountability, and sometimes apologies are necessary. But our mistakes, regrets, failings, and disappointments are never the end of our story. God’s redemptive grace is.

If you’re especially prone to being exceptionally hard on yourself, know that there’s nothing you could do to outrun God’s grace, either. His arms are reaching for you, stretched out wide. How wide? From one of His Son’s nailed hands on the cross to the other. This is how far His grace goes for you.

Take heart: God is not up there wishing you’d get your act together down here. He’s not giving you a grade. He’s giving you His grace. He doesn’t tolerate you, He’s totally taken with you. Because of Christ’s cleansing work on the cross, when God looks at you, He sees His beloved, not a bungled-up mess.

He knows everything, and He adores you just the same.

And that’s the end of the story.

Kristen has a book releasing this spring where she shares stories of God’s redemption following her mistakes in friendship. Learn more about it here.

 

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

The Unexpected Gift of an Age Gap

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I had a plan. At seventeen, I was ready to graduate high school and leave my small California town. I dreamed of playing golf and majoring in music at a dreamy Southern California campus where I’d auditioned and won a scholarship. I bought the sweatshirt. I knew my future was there.

But life happened. College is expensive, and my dream school wasn’t possible. The scholarships weren’t enough. I clung to false hope, telling everyone I was going, but as the enrollment deadline approached, I registered at my local community college instead. My friends scattered across the country, posting photos to the new platform called Facebook, while I stayed behind, commuting to campus and working at a local bookstore.

I had imagined college would be full of new faces and experiences, but everything was familiar. Life felt like a sequel where the plot hadn’t changed much. After all the anticipation, I was embarrassed. I dreamed of leaving while trying to accept where I was.

I kept attending my childhood church, and one day, a woman named Debbie invited me to a Tuesday night Bible study. The women there weren’t who I expected to spend time with — many had changed my diapers as a baby. Most were nearing retirement and thinking about their grandkids. On the surface, we had little in common, but I agreed to join them.

At first, I felt out of place. My biggest concerns — singleness, homework, and figuring out my future — seemed trivial compared to their life experiences. But week after week, these women welcomed me into Debbie’s farmhouse, fed me homemade snacks, and listened to my prayer requests. I cringe now at what used to worry me, but they never made me feel small.

I don’t remember much from my first year of college classes — only two even transferred to the school I later attended. But I remember sitting in Debbie’s living room, hearing stories of God’s faithfulness.

One evening, I said, “I know some of the things I talk about seem trivial.”

A kind-faced woman who had known me my whole life smiled and said, “You remind me of the passion I used to have, and it makes me remember those years so fondly.”

I had never considered that I might be contributing something. I assumed I was too young to fully connect. But God proved me wrong.

We often separate ourselves by generation or life season, but Scripture is full of intergenerational relationships. Ruth remained loyal to Naomi. Moses urged the Israelites to pass down God’s law. 1 Peter 5:5 says, “You who are younger, be subject to the elders” (ESV). Hebrews 13:7 encourages believers to “remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God.”

And discipleship isn’t one-sided. 1 Timothy 4:12 tells young people to set an example “in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.” Jesus even says in Matthew 18:3, “Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

We all have something to learn from each other.

For a long time, I thought church communities should be filled with people who looked and thought alike. But our differences are a gift. There is richness in different generations, cultures, and even denominational traditions. We unite around core truths — like the authority of Scripture and the resurrection of Jesus — but we don’t have to be spiritual clones.

Some wish we didn’t have so many denominations. But church history shows that as Christianity grew, believers needed clarity on foundational truths. Councils met, forming creeds like the Nicene and Apostles’ Creed. These outlined essentials of faith. Over time, disagreements on non-essential — like baptism practices or church leadership roles — led to different denominations. But that diversity doesn’t weaken the Church; it strengthens it.

Think of a church potluck. If everyone brought only potato salad or only macaroni and cheese, it wouldn’t be much of a feast. But when each person brings something different, the table is full. The Church is like that — a gathering of unique perspectives and traditions, united by Christ.

I eventually transferred to a school in Chicago for my second year of college. My transition was softened by notes and care packages from my Bible study friends. Even after I moved, they continued pouring into my life. Over a decade later, I still walk with them or join Bible study when I visit home. Last summer, they celebrated twenty-five years of opening God’s Word together in that little farmhouse, and it felt sacred to reunite, sing, and share how God has moved in our lives.

I wouldn’t be who I am without those women. Their wisdom has shaped me and pointed me to Jesus time and again. The ones I thought I had nothing in common with became my sisters. And it all started because God kept me in that small town for a season I hadn’t planned.

Imagine what I would have missed if I hadn’t accepted Debbie’s invitation. My life is richer because of those relationships, and even now, I still receive sweet texts from them, reminding me they’re praying for me.

So go ahead — sit with someone from a different generation, background, or tradition. You’ll both be better for it. And if you’re lucky, they might even feed you too.

By Melissa Zaldivar, adapted from her chapter in Come Sit with Me

Join the women of (in)courage and learn how to:

  • Love through disagreements
  • Delight in your differences
  • Live with discomfort

This book will transform how you see the people around you and God in you.

The Prayer Shift That Brings Peace in Uncertain Times

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My anxiety was higher than the piles of unfolded laundry waiting for me back home. I sat in my car with my hand on my rounded stomach. The doctor’s words still echoed in my ear, “Abnormal ultrasound… amniocentesis… she may not survive.” The darkness of fear rushed in where there was once anticipation and joy. I was now in a season of uncertainty and the stakes were high. I searched for the words to pray, but all I could muster up was “God, where are you?”

How do you continue to pray in seasons when unsure if God is listening?

By God’s grace, I can tell you — 25 years later — that my baby was fine. Thank You, Lord! But the happy ending didn’t change my in-the-moment wrestling. When dark circumstances loom heavy or shadows of doubt and discouragement hang over our souls, prayer can feel like the last thing we want to do. Yes, we want God to fix our problems, but it can be hard to pray when He feels so far away.

For times like these, I want to share some encouragement from Matthew: Pray Like This, my new six-week Bible study about Jesus’ teaching on prayer.

1. Cling to the Promise of the “With-Ness” of God

In one of my favorite poetic parallels in Scripture, the Gospel writer Matthew, a Jewish tax collector who left behind his former life to become a disciple, opens and ends his messianic telling of Jesus’ story with two powerful verses that remind me and you of the “with-ness” of God:

“Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel, which means ‘God is with us.'”
Matthew 1:23 NLT

“Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
Matthew 28:20 NLT

There’s something so beautiful about starting and ending that Gospel with Jesus’ declaration of God’s never-ending presence in our lives. Here is how I sum up the with-ness of God in the Matthew study:

God is with you in times of questioning.

God is with you even when you feel alone.

God is with you when life is at its highest tension.

God is with you when you’re at your lowest point.

God is with you when you make mistakes.

God is with you when you take big steps of courage or faith.

Fill in the blank: God is with me when _________________________________.

The notion of “God with us” means that we have unshakeable awareness and access to His permanent presence. This anchors us in the hope that we need to stead our souls when the storms of life seem to draw out God’s voice. We can trust He is still there!

2. When Your Prayers Are Focused on God, You Will Experience Connection with God

In his award-winning song, “Need a Favor,” country artist Jelly Roll writes about how he only talks to God when he needs a favor. He’s not the only one. God knows we’ve treated prayer like a vending machine or customer service line when we’re upset with life, so we tell God what we want Him to fix. In my life, I’ve sadly used prayer like Amazon Prime. When something is wrong, I will pray and then get impatient because God didn’t send the answer to my prayer in a day or two. Years ago, I found an anonymous quote challenging my prayer mindset: “Many seek the hand of God, but few seek His face.” I was challenged to reconsider my “me-first” prayer mindset.

This is why Jesus’ teaching on prayer doesn’t start with a focus on us; instead, we begin with a focus on God:

“Pray like this: Our Father in heaven, may your name be kept holy.”
Matthew 6:9 NLT

When we approach God as the One who is with us and the One who loves us as a Perfect Father, that knowledge puts our problems in perspective.

One of the key experiences in the Matthew: Pray Like This study is the “God-Centering” exercise, which teaches you to begin your prayers with a bigger view of God.

  • God IS – Getting clear on God’s character and communicating His nature to us.
  • God HAS – The ability to recount God’s faithfulness in humanity and our lives.
  • God CAN – Articulating your understanding of God’s power and sovereignty.
  • God WILL – Rooting yourself in God’s promises, His eternal plan, and living out our purpose.

Beginning your prayers focused on God creates a sense of safety for your hearts and bodies. You are reminded that God is your refuge or safe place. Here’s an a-ha moment I had years ago in a long season when I was impatient for God to answer my prayer: The more we center our prayers around a big God, the more we realize our prayers and our fears are already addressed and answered by who God is.

Have your prayers been more about your problems or centered on God lately? God is a big God, my dear friend. Don’t stop praying. If you’ve been out of practice on starting your prayers centered on God, this is a great season to make this your focus. Yes, keep telling God about your problems because He cares about you. But start with God in prayer, and He will give you peace, hope, and unshakeable confidence in Him, no matter what you are facing today.

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Barb’s new six-week Bible study, Matthew: Pray Like This, is a deep-dive study on experiencing transformative prayer and knowing the joy of praying like Jesus. When you pray like Jesus, you will learn more about God’s character and His eternal plan and purpose for you. Along the way, you’ll learn that prayer is the place where God meets you with His heart set on conversation and time spent with you.

Pick up your copy today. . . and enter to WIN a copy right here! We’re so excited to give away FIVE copies of Barb’s new study. Just leave a comment, and you’ll be entered to win*.

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

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 3/30/25.

Freely Repent to Freely Live

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I sat in bed, covers tucked around me, journal perched on my lap, and pen poised in my hand. I stared at the 100-year-old plaster walls of the lovely guestroom I had graciously been invited to occupy. After a full day of active listening, learning, note-taking, worshipping, telling my story, and listening to others tell theirs, I was exhausted. Grateful, but exhausted.

I had driven five hours to attend a Soul Care Conference. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from this three-day experience. But it had been a long time since I’d gotten away — just me and Jesus — and I was expectant.

Lord, I want to receive everything you have for me in this, I kept praying.

Part of me wanted to melt into the cozy sheets and let my heart and brain process the day as I slept. But I sensed the Lord had something for me. I opened my journal and started with gratitude. I tried to reflect on key takeaways from the day, but my mind was all over the place. I felt stirred up — but also stuck.

So I asked, “God, what do You want to talk to me about?”

Side note: This is always a great question because God’s agenda always wins.

God said, “Talk to Me about the memories.”

Instantly, I knew what He meant. Throughout the day, “random” memories, thoughts, and images from seasons of my life long past suddenly came to mind. We were told from the stage that this was a common occurrence at this kind of conference, so pay attention and keep a running list. I made a little list in a small corner on the inner page of my program packet.

But I didn’t want to talk to God about that list or the memories on it.

The words of Dr. Rob Reimer rang in my heart: “God isn’t trying to make you feel bad, He’s trying to get you free.”

Talk to Me about the memories.

So one by one, I wrote down all the memories. Like watching a movie, scenes of my childhood and adolescence unfolded with searing clarity, details long forgotten in the vault of time, grief, and shame. I remembered the sin of others — that which was pointed at me and perpetrated against me, as well as the jagged edges of sin that grazed me merely because I was nearby. I remembered my own willful disobedience, covered by layers of lies and guilt, avoidance and denial.

“But Lord, it’s been so long,” I cried. “I’ve changed. The ones who hurt me have changed. I’m no longer bound by those chains. I know You and love You. I’ve received Your forgiveness. Why do we have to dredge up past hurt?”

In the most gracious, compassionate, loving voice, God spoke to my spirit, “Seventeen-year-old Becky is still in bondage. I’m here to get her free.”

I wept.

I had been so focused on my current circumstances and spiritual growth that I was totally unaware of my shackles to past shame. I didn’t realize how secrets long buried, minimized, or swept under the rug of “it’s not that bad” or “it could have been worse” were holding part of my soul hostage to the full healing Jesus wanted to give me.

For the next hour, I cried and prayed and repented. I brought all my brokenness to the foot of the cross. I held nothing back. I told Jesus (and myself) the truth about the ways I had been deeply wounded and the depth of my sin. I forgave others. I forgave myself. I received the fullness of God’s merciful forgiveness.

“There is no freedom without honesty; there is no breakthrough without brokenness,” Dr. Reimer writes in his book Soul Care.

I hadn’t tried to be dishonest with God. But sadly we are masters at self-deception. That night, in a tucked away guestroom 300 miles from home, the Lord loved me enough to bring me face to face with my soul-deep sorrow and shame. Together, we confronted the darkness and Jesus walked me into the light of wholeness.

In John 8:32 (CSB) Jesus said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Our salvation in Christ isn’t just something we know in our heads once and for all — it’s a truth we’re invited to experience and live out daily. As we continually engage with the person of Jesus who is truth embodied, we will continue to experience new levels of freedom in Him.

Dr. Reimer explains it like this: “The beautiful message of the gospel is that though you are deeply flawed, you are even more deeply loved. God invites you to come into the light. God cannot cleanse our excuses. God cannot pardon our denials. God cannot cleanse that which we will not confess. God cannot heal that which we will not admit. There is no freedom without forgiveness and there is no forgiveness without repentance.”

I woke up the next morning with eyes puffy from crying and a soul set free.

God did not strongarm me into seeing the heaviness of my unconfessed sin or the gravity of my unforgiveness. His kindness led me to repentance. That’s who God is.

Friend, today God is inviting you to step into the light. Maybe you instantly know the memories you need to address and confess. Maybe you feel stirred up but stuck. Wherever you’re at today ask:

God, what do You want to talk to me about?

Then listen. Respond. Confess. Repent. Live freer than you thought possible.

 

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

A Story Tucked into a Library Card

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There are a dozen pictures, maybe more, of my sweet but likely sticky toddler hands holding a book. The thread is woven through the years, told in pixelated images of childhood, frozen in time but carefully tucked away in scrapbooks. I remember sitting at the dinner table as a teenager, fork in one hand and a book in the other, somewhere in the middle of a story. I became a writer, yes, and if I look closely I can trace that thread too. But always, from as far back as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to stories.

My very first (in)courage article, written as the (in)tern while still in college, is titled There’s Power in Your Story. From the first page to the last lines, the theme of “story” is printed in black and white, bound in my first book. And for the last ten years, I’ve worked for hundreds of authors, serving behind the scenes to help launch their books well so that their messages are held in the hands of readers.

The point is — books and stories? They might as well be in my blood.

And the reason I share this context is so that the importance of the next line isn’t lost.

When I packed my bags and moved twelve hours from home for college, I left my library card behind and then let half a dozen years pass before I walked through a library’s sliding doors, filled out a page of paperwork, and held that familiar piece of plastic in my hands once again.

What’s the big deal, you might be wondering.

It’s a fair question, and I admit I’ve held onto this story because it seemed so wildly silly, so absolutely ordinary, so seemingly unimportant.

It’s just a library card.

But like so many of the beloved books that line our shelves, there’s usually something more going on beneath it all, an understory that we might not be aware of until much later, and my hesitation in getting a new library card had nothing to do with paperwork and everything to do with planting.

I put down roots on purpose, intentionally tending to and watering new friendships in a city that would, over time, grow to become the place I call home. When I look back now, though, I can see that while I was “all in” on my people, I viewed my place, my location, as temporary. There was little need for a library card the first four years; assigned reading for classes took care of that. But after the cap and gown, after many of my people packed boxes and moved for work, for marriage, for a new beginning — and I remained? Something shifted in the staying when I decided that for as long as I’m here, I want to be fully present, to put down roots and truly settle in until God moves me elsewhere.

Jeremiah 29:11 is beloved by many, but as time goes on and the city of Birmingham remains home, I’m struck by the words that bookend those familiar lines about a future and a hope. In verses 5-7 and again in verse 28, God tells the Israelites to go ahead and “build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce.” One day, yes, they will return to Jerusalem. But for now, and for generations to come, they will remain. And so while you’re here, Scripture says, “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you” (29:7).

Last week I walked out of my local library with a smile stretched across my face and a brand new card in my hand, a replacement for the one that was “just” a piece of plastic and also an intentional line in the sand. (This was my second library card in Birmingham because the first was used with such abandon over the last several years that it was literally falling to pieces.)

I don’t know how long I’ll be here; my lease is up soon and there are big questions on the horizon. I may call this beautiful city home for eight more years or I might be packing boxes in eight weeks. Today, it’s completely unknown. But for however long I’m here, I want to be all the way in, settled down, and committed to both the people and the place where God has planted me.

And maybe that’s the invitation for you, too. Whatever season you find yourself in — whether your roots feel deep or you’re tempted to keep things temporary — what if you chose to be all in? What if you decided to fully embrace the place God has you right now, investing in the people, the rhythms, the ordinary moments that make up your days? You don’t have to know how long you’ll be here to live like you belong. Perhaps the peace you’re longing for will meet you right where you are, here in your season of staying.

For me, living that out looks two hundred different ways, and this particular one is admittedly simple and small. But every time I pull out my library card, I remember. I remember the thread of “story” woven from toddler to teen to a tired college student to today, and this 32-year-old woman gives thanks for the city that is, for now, home.

It’s just a library card.

It’s also so much more.

 

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

Lift Your Eyes

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“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”
Colossians 3:2 CSB

What’s been consuming your thoughts lately? Maybe it’s the never-ending demands of parenting, the ache for a new job, or the weight of anxiety pressing in. Maybe your mind is tangled in worries, overwhelmed by grief, or just exhausted from striving.

Or maybe you’re laser-focused on your goals — praying your hard work will finally pay off. Perhaps physical pain is the only thing you can think about today.

Whatever fills your mind, Scripture gives us this powerful directive: Set your mind on things above.

So, what exactly is above?

  • Heaven — your forever home.
  • God’s glorious presence.
  • His unshakable power.
  • His throne room, where every prayer is heard.
  • A place of healing and wholeness.
  • A world without sorrow, pain, or fear.
  • Endless wonder, worship, and joy.
  • Perfect love. Absolute peace. True belonging.

Pause. Breathe. Let that sink in.

Notice what’s not on this list? Deadlines. Bank accounts. Broken dreams. That thing keeping you up at night.

God isn’t asking you to ignore your struggles or pretend life is easy. He’s inviting you to shift your focus — to lift your eyes above the chaos and onto Him. Because He is where your hope, strength, and joy live.

Today, will you take Him up on His invitation?

 

No Shame in the Battle with Anxiety and Depression

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“I will be with you when you pass through the waters, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you. You will not be scorched when you walk through the fire, and the flame will not burn you.”
Isaiah 43:2 (CSB)

I’m standing on a stage in front of a crowd of women. I see teenagers with side ponytails, sweet mamas in skinny jeans, and lovely silver-haired seniors. I wish for the chance to have coffee with them all, to hear their stories one by one. So I do what I consider to be second-best — I tell mine.

I come to the part about how we all have bullies in our lives. Mine hassled my elementary friends and me after school, until one day he called me a word none of us were supposed to utter under any circumstances. At this point I decided to take matters into my own hands. Although the quiet and gentle type, I promptly pushed him down — without causing injury or serious concern from any adult authorities — and sat on his back until he promised to repent of his bully ways. The audience laughs at this, and I tell them I wish this was my only encounter with a bully. But I still fight them every day.

My grown-up bullies are anxiety and depression, two words we can be hesitant to say at church. Yet the psalmist freely confesses, “I am deeply depressed” (Psalm 42:6 CSB). Struggling with depression or anxiety doesn’t mean we are spiritual failures, we’ve disappointed God, or we’re not strong enough. This is what I have come to believe: we live in a fallen, broken world, and if we are in a battle, it simply means we are warriors.

I declare this to the women in the room, and after the session, one of the leaders says to me, “When you said those words, I could hear a collective sigh of relief.” After I finish speaking, a line of women that stretches almost out the door forms in front of me, and one after another says either “Me too” or “My daughter struggles with depression and anxiety.” If you’re reading this and you or someone you love is in this battle, know you’re not alone.

The hope in all this is that Jesus has promised us victory. I believe I will likely have to fight this battle as long as I’m on this spinning earth. But through a plan that includes every part of who I am — spiritual, emotional, social, physical, and mental — these days I’m winning more than I’m losing. I also have partners in the fight, including a counselor, a doctor, and good friends who speak truth to me on the days I can’t remember it. (When people ask me what to do next about their depression and anxiety, I always recommend starting with a trustworthy biblical counselor.)

What we don’t talk about, what we keep secret, where we let shame and guilt take hold are the places in our lives where we remain defeated and unhealed. So I’m speaking publicly about this struggle with you too.

Depression and anxiety are part of my life, but they’re not the boss of me. They’re also not my identity. I’m strong, brave, and loved. I’m a daughter of God who has been promised victory. So are you. There is no shame in being a warrior. Fight on.

Lord, like the psalmist, I long to freely confess my truth. I am deeply depressed. Yet even as I speak those words, the next to fly out of my mouth is the truth that as I fight, I am a warrior, and in that there is no shame. Thank You, Lord, for the victory of speaking up, of not keeping secrets, of healing and identity. Help me live into mine. Amen.

By Holley Gerth, from the archives.

 

For the One Carrying the Weight of the World

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There is a lot I’ve done that I am not proud of.

Sometimes, in the stillness, memories rise up to the surface and I shudder, my shoulders pulling tight with the tension of all my should-not-haves. There is also all I still do that I am not proud of. Like the way I scowl at my kids when I am bone-tired, or the curse words I mouth, as if whispering makes them any less volcanic.

These are the things that make up the weight of all my wounds and weaknesses.

Then, there is everything I have not done.

In my weekly confession at church, the word “undone” sparks a shiver in my spine. I can’t help but rehearse all the could-haves that carry from week to week: The text I should have sent. The apology I should have offered. The smile I could have shared. The money I could have given.

These are the things that make up the weight of all my would-haves.

Deeper, still, is all I witness in the world around me.

My heart, all wrapped up in the worries that everyone feels and feeds into, pounds faster and louder and harder. Stress seizes me when I scroll on my phone and see the sorrow that seeps through every sentence shared on social media. The planes going down. The mortgage rates going up. The wildfires that continue to rage far and wide. The political unrest.

These are the things that make up the weight of the world.

Moment by moment, we bury burdens like seeds in the soil of our hearts. Relentlessly, we tend to our grief and grievances, letting them grow like flowers in a garden. And, yet, we wonder why we are consumed by all we carry.

We are knee-deep in need, in want, in faithlessness, in unforgiveness. We proclaim praises to God and, in the same breath, curse our brothers and sisters created in God’s image. We are quick to anger and even quicker to spew responses (in speech and on screens) devoid of gentleness and grace. Our words seethe with anger rather than drip with honey. We meditate on our worries rather than the Word of God.

What do you do when you want to worship God but instead you ruminate on the world’s weight and your own worries?

What do you do when you want to read your Bible but your vision is blurry from all your crying?

There is only one cure for the one wearing weariness. There is only one cure for the one carrying the weight of the world. There is only one way to help your heart hold onto hope, even in spite of all that weighs and wounds and worries you.

Confession can be a cure for all the burdens you carry. It is a kind of prayer that melts our pride and makes way for God’s perspective. It is a rope reaching out for hope and help — it is a thread stitching our hearts ever-so-together with God’s. Confession leads us to surrender, which paves the way for trust in the One who can carry everything we were never meant to.

When we cannot control the ways of the world, we can confess our contempt of it.

When we cannot calm the chaos that surrounds us, we can confess our complicity in it.

When we cannot overlook the offenses done unto us, we can confess the offenses that we’ve done unto others.

Confession is not simply a sacrament; it is a balm for brokenness — it is a bridge to the mercy and grace of God. Confession is not a thing we do — it is a thing done to us and in us.

Over the last few years, my heart has been continually captivated by the following prayer of confession I heard at two different churches I’ve had the privilege of being a part of: Forgive us for what we’ve done, and for what we’ve left undone.

It’s been nothing short of a miracle watching my heart be transformed by this weekly confession. Every week, I am humbled by taking my eyes off the shortcomings of others and willingly remembering that I, myself, am the worst of all sinners. It’s been healing to go to God with all my shattered pieces in hand, and remember there is grace for all that is still being worked out in this world — and in me.

Our worries and our wounds remind us that God is not done yet.
The weight of this weary world reminds us that things are not quite the way God intended.

When we go to God in weekly, even momentary confession, we are reminded that God invites us to be a part of all that is being — and will someday, once and for all, be — redeemed and restored.

If you feel weighed down by your worries and by the weight of the world, confession may be a helpful practice to embrace or re-awaken. Lift your eyes, loosen your lips, and let honest, humble confessions pour out before God. God will hear you, and the forgiveness extended to you will fortify your faith, empowering you to extend forgiveness — unto others and unto yourself.

May you find peace in the presence of God as you pray this prayer . . .

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For yours is the kingdom,
the power and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.

 

Listen to Rachel’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts — just search for (in)courage!

When God Calls You to Something New and Beautiful

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Being a single mother is not a title I ever anticipated embracing. Sadly and unexpectedly, it was thrust upon me without any choice. 

My little one hadn’t even turned one yet. I felt both physically and mentally exhausted as I navigated through postpartum depression and heartbreak, struggling to make ends meet, often failing to do so. I had been isolated for so long during my previous marriage –  having outside friends wasn’t an option.

In my new singleness, I attempted to make friends, but mostly, they were male connections seeking a “transactional friendship,” leaving me even more depleted each time. 

That summer in 2007, I reconnected with an old friend. I shared the unexpected change in my marital status, how I had fought hard to keep what I thought was meant to be forever, and how lonely and defeated that loss had left me. Without a second thought, she invited me to the Sunday gatherings she hosted at her place. 

The weekly event included a group of people, a meal, and a conversation. She mentioned it could be a great chance to connect with others and make new friends. But I could only think about how it was a free meal for a single mom on a limited budget. So, I started attending these gatherings (later on, discovering it was a small group).  As weeks passed, I went less for the food and more for the community I had now been welcomed into. 

Life began to look a little different, knowing I wasn’t alone. Things were still challenging, and yes, I still struggled to provide for myself and my child, but I understood what it felt like to belong and be cared for.  One Sunday night when our gathering had gone on too late, my friend invited me and my young daughter to spend the night. This was another way I felt deeply seen and taken care of.

At that moment, I made a silent promise to God: when I was in a better place, I would be to another woman what this woman had been to me — the love of Jesus.

In the spring of 2019, the Lord reminded me of my promise. I was remarried, no longer a single mother, and had two more children; things were much better. That spring, the Lord placed it on my heart to gather women in my home to guide them to Jesus through community and connection. 

After a few more Holy Spirit nudges and some back-and-forth with the Lord, I came to the place where obedience was the only option. 

Even after giving God my yes and inviting a few new and old friends, I wrestled with fear and insecurities. We gathered, served treats, offered coffee, and shared part of my story and the hope of Jesus. We prayed together and even held a raffle, then called it a night. The Lord had me do this two more times. By the third meeting, my home was no longer suitable as we hosted seventeen women eager to come together to find community and connect with others.

In the fall of  2019, the Lord birthed Anew Ministries by guiding me to Isaiah 43:18-19 CSB, which states, “Do not remember the past events; pay no attention to things of old. Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it? Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.” 

I fell in love with the name Anew, which is defined as “in a new or different and typically more positive way.” 

That’s our God! A God who is in the business of doing new and different things, surpassing our expectations. A God who meets us in the mess and makes messages out of them. 

Anew is where I hope women will be reminded that our God is a God of miracles who sees, loves, and redeems. We hope that every woman we encounter will grow to solidify her identity in Christ and learn to walk “Godfidently” in the good works that Ephesians tells us were prepared in advance for us. 

Amiga, if you’re reading this today and resonate with feelings of isolation and loneliness, know that we are praying for you and believe that the Lord has a community ready to grow alongside you right where you live. It may require stepping out of your comfort zone and connecting with your local church, perhaps by joining that Bible study group or accepting an invitation from a friend to her home gatherings. Whatever it is, your people are waiting. 

Now, go and allow yourself to be found by Jesus through others, remembering God is still in the business of doing things anew! 

Anew Ministries is a Canadian-based nonprofit dedicated to connecting women to each other, nurturing community, and empowering women to solidify their identity in Jesus. They do this by providing a safe space for real conversations, authentic relationships, and resources that foster Spiritual Growth.

You can learn more about Ligia’s work and Anew, along with their online Bible studies and other offerings, by visiting their website: www.anewministries.ca.

And, exciting news!! Anew is coming to the States! On Saturday, May 31st, Anew will host its first US event: the Amigas Bilingual Conference! Hosted at Bethel Barn in Monroe, North Carolina, this is a FREE, unique, bilingual, full-day event honoring faith, sisterhood, and unity!

If you’re near the Charlotte area or want to take a road trip with your amigas, find all the details and register here. Ligia would love to see you!

This weekend, don’t miss a special episode of the (in)courage podcast where you can hear more of Ligia’s story and the heart behind Anew Ministries, and be encouraged by how God is making you anew today too! This episode drops on Saturday on Apple, Spotify, or your favorite podcast app. Just search for the (in)courage podcast!

Like Trees, We Grow in Waiting

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I take a deep breath and lift the 110-year-old window. Its wavy glass, shaped from decades of letting the light in, is covered in smudges from sticky little hands and wet dog noses. I run my finger along the windowsill, noticing a new patch of peeling paint, and sigh, letting go of my breath and my expectations for a spotless home.

The midday sun peeks through after a long winter, warming my face with the promise of spring. A burst of fresh air blows into the house as a beam of light catches dust motes dancing in the air.

I scan the sunroom, soaking in its imperfections — the missing strip of crown molding, the pile of teenager sneakers by the door, the sticky toy still clinging to the ceiling after my youngest son’s enthusiastic toss.

The coat tree, heavy with puffy parkas and knitted scarves, catches my eye. Should I pack them away, or will a surprise spring snowstorm remind us that winter isn’t quite finished?

Pushing aside a handful of markers left on the couch, I sink into the worn cushion. The hum of the furnace is finally silent, replaced by fresh air flowing from outside. I breathe it in, slow and deep, letting my breath become a prayer of its own.

I replay my dream from the night before about the magnolia trees that flank our home. In my dream, the trees’ blossoms burst forth in brilliant shades of pink, proclaiming spring had arrived. 

When I woke up, I tiptoed downstairs​​ like a child on Christmas morning, excited to see what might be waiting for me. But instead of spotting the fullness of spring, I found bare branches still holding brown buds.

Sometimes, the winters of our lives linger too long. We ache for the green hope of spring, the blue skies of summer, or the golden abundance of fall. 

This season — this in-between space — feels like a pause I’d rather skip. It’s hard for me to be present between the dead of winter and the new life of spring.

I want to leap to the glory of Easter without the solemn waiting of Lent.

I’m aware of my tendency to measure myself by invisible expectations, getting caught up in the shoulds that echo in my mind. I should set aside more time for prayer. I should have a cleaner house. But beneath the surface shoulds lie the deeper ones: I should be a more devoted Christian. I should be better. At everything.

Cool air drifts through the open window, carrying the faint scent of thawing earth. I glance at the trees’ bare branches swaying in the breeze and remember that trees are always working beneath the soil.

While the growth above ground pauses during winter, their roots continue to soak up nutrients, growing slowly but steadily. Even when branches appear lifeless, the roots draw water and nutrients from the ground, storing energy for the burst of spring growth to come. 

Dormancy doesn’t mean growth isn’t happening.

And that’s true for me and you, too.

It’s easy to forget that beneath all the shoulds of our lives, we are rooted in love.

In Ephesians 3:16-19, Paul writes to the church: “I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (NIV).

Just as roots anchor a tree and nourish its branches, God cares for us — rooting us in love and nurturing our souls amid our imperfections and insecurities. Psalm 1:3 reminds us that we can be like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in season. 

And when we release the shoulds that weigh us down — the compulsion to have it all together, to do more, to be more — we create space for God’s perfect love to nurture and nourish us, too.

Spotless homes and impeccable prayer records aren’t fruits of the Spirit. When we sit in the transitional seasons of our lives, we can trust that the Holy Spirit is at work within us, nurturing love, joy, peace, and patience — fruits that will bloom in their season (Galatians 5:22-23).

In this season of Lent, we wait. We trust that the work happening beneath the surface will lead to something beautiful in its time.

What season are you in right now? What is your soul aching for? Are you longing to see growth where it feels like nothing is happening?

As you reflect, let your breath become a prayer.

INHALE: O God, even when I can’t see it,

EXHALE: You are working within me.

Looking for a companion to guide you through the seasons of faith? Kayla’s book Every Season Sacred is available now—offering prayers and reflections to help you slow down, connect with your family, and experience God’s presence in the everyday moments of life together.

It’s (Almost) Never What You Think

by

I was driving a long stretch of what felt like nothing between Dallas, Texas and Fayetteville, Arkansas. Oklahoma is beautiful, but it can also feel a bit…bare.

A friend had called to catch up and make the trip less lonely. As we were winding down the conversation, I pulled off to a random gas station. I’d been driving a few hours and it was time for a bathroom break. As I sat in the parking lot, about to get out, she suddenly said, “Oh! I wanted to tell you something else…” so I listened and started my car back up. No sense in sitting while we chatted if I could be driving, right?

I got back on the highway and nearly four seconds later, one of her kids was having a dramatic moment and she suddenly had to go.

I chuckled to myself because now I was going to just get off one exit later. The silver lining? McDonald’s was attached to this gas station, which meant an opportunity for fries. I walked inside, used the bathroom, and grabbed a snack. A convenience store was attached to it, so I picked up my favorite candy bar, too. (Reese’s anyone?)

There was a kind, middle-aged woman at the desk and we made small talk. As we chatted and I entered my pin for the purchase, I felt a nagging sense that I should ask her how I could pray for her.

These moments don’t happen too often, but I try to be sensitive to them. Sometimes, God moves in unexpected ways and I do not want to write something off just because it’s a little uncomfortable. I’d like to say that I listened right away, but the fact of the matter is? I didn’t. I decided to leave. After all, I still had a few hours to go on my drive to Arkansas.

I walked out of the store, but as I approached my car, I couldn’t get it out of my head that I was supposed to go and ask that woman how I could pray for her.

So I finally rolled my eyes, swallowed my pride, and prepared for the awkward ask. Still, I knew that surely on the other side would be some amazing prayer request that ministered to this woman. I was going to make her day with my timely ask! Right?

Wrong.

I stepped back in, walked up to the counter, and said, “Excuse me, this is sort of random, but is there any way I can be praying for you?”

She looked at me with a confused expression and said, “No, thank you.”

“Okay, I was just curious. Have a nice day,” I said, slinking off with my tail between my legs.

As I sat back in my car, recovering from what just happened and preparing for the last few hours of my drive, I heard a voice.

“Melissa?”

I looked out my open window and saw a friend from my church along with her husband and two wild kids. They’d been driving for eight hours from a family trip and were stopping for a break.

“We’re going to McDonald’s for dinner. Want to join us?”

“Sure,” I said, getting out of my car for a third time in the last 10 minutes.

As we sat together, the kids ate and I asked them 100 questions while my friend and her husband took a break. After a quick dinner, we got in our cars to drive the last little bit to Fayetteville together.

Here’s what I cannot get over: God knew and God knew better. He knew that if I lingered, my friends would pull up. He knew that they needed a familiar face when their kids were starting to melt down. He knew that everything was not what it seemed until it came together in the end.

Later on, my friend said to someone at church, “We had another adult to help with the kids and it was like an answer to prayer.”

My mind went back to how sure I was that the answer to prayer would be my interaction with the woman at the counter. I had a whole story all written out, but it turns out, God had another one and I was merely a player in it.

Do you ever feel like you know more than God? Do you ever wish He would take notes from you on how something is supposed to work out?

When I am tempted to believe that I call the shots or that I have wisdom deeper than it actually is, I remember that early spring day in the middle of Oklahoma. I remember that God was trying to get my attention and if I’d ignored Him, I would have missed out.

Scripture says, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9 NIV). And I suppose I’m forever glad to step where He has me.