When Loneliness and Light Are My Only Companions

When Loneliness and Light Are My Only Companions

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I recently read an article about all the animals that go through metamorphosis and found myself comforted and amazed in ways I never imagined I would be.

Who knew Creation is filled with amazing metamorphosis stories beyond the butterfly (including my own)? Who knew about the immortal jellyfish, the crown-of-thorns starfish, and the flatfish?

From puberty to perimenopause, most of us have been taught to brace ourselves and just get to the other side of things.

Maya Angelou said, “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”

I’m struck with our collective fascination over the “end product” and “arriving.” We are obsessed with happy endings and stories that tie up. We want accounts of triumph, not loss. And yet, from the moment we are born, we are growing older and changing; we are losing what was and receiving what will be. Did you know that your skin replaces itself with a new layer every 27 days? According to scientists who are smarter than me, it’s just layers of skin, but the cells in our bodies are in a constant state of change. With time, we lose elasticity and melanin, and we lose friends and family. Things begin to stretch and ache, and yet, we try to keep moving towards an elusive destination. Yet what time in life on earth is free of change except for death?

The last five years have knocked me down, and while it seems like everyone around me has recovered from the pandemic and other things we went through collectively, I have found myself on the other end in an ongoing journey of grief and back-to-back seasons of loneliness. I still grieve the ways community changed, the friendship break from over a year ago that still aches in my body, the wrestling of faith communities, and the struggle of someone I love that never seems to change no matter how I pray or what we eat. I hate telling my friend that I’m still in the same place when we meet to walk or sit and talk over coffee.

Has everyone moved on? God, how long? Will I survive this dark cocoon?

Here’s what I am learning through tears: we are held in the dark.

Light is easy to miss when we are bathed in it. But in the dark, we cling to the Light in an unsurpassed way.

Maybe the longer these unraveling changes last in the dark, the more I fear I will lose the Light. But John wrote, “The Light shines into the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it or put it out” (John 1:5, First Nations Version).

I meditate on these words and think about them in new ways. Instead of the need to prove I have access to Light by way of triumphant stories or a plastered-on smile, I can rest in being held by the Light wherever I am.

In the dark, we are not only found by Light, we come to know Light in a new and deepened way. Maybe that’s the point after all. Because if we never spend time in the dark and resist our own transformation and all the darkness that accompanies it, we may find ourselves among those who bathe in, identify with, and proclaim the Light, but never truly know it or are changed by it.

In my grief, the Light stays with me.
In my changes and aging, the Light accompanies me.
In my bitterness, the Light soothes me.
In my unknowing, the Light provides a path.

When I feel stuck in a dark cocoon, Light warms me.
When I fear losing the Light, Light holds me.
When I think things will never change, Light shines anyway, unbothered.
When I feel alone in the changes, Light never leaves.

 

Listen to today’s devotion on the play below or whoever you stream podcasts. 

 

Here Is Your Permission Slip to Release Your Fear of Food This Holiday Season

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Content warning: This is a personal story that contains the subject of eating disorders.

I’m a Christmas person.

By that, I mean that I’m a Christmas-tree-up-in-the-first-week-of-November kind of person. I need my Taylor Swift Christmas album playing, and my hot cocoa with a candy cane. My virtual fireplace on YouTube is all queued up . . . and I already planned an Elf watch party. And I am proud. I love every part of this season — it’s just too joyful not to. 

I’ve not always been a Christmas person, though. To be honest, the last few years I really dreaded the entire holiday season. Not for a lack of festive spirit or a disbelief in all things merry and bright, but because of the gut-wrenching fear that my body might change.

Family dinners, baking cookies with my little sister, putting candy canes on the tree, and watching Mom make her famous chili were hardly opportunities for connection and joy. For me, they were moments ripe with possibilities for the numbers on the scale to change — possibilities for me to become even more disappointed with the woman reflected in the mirror. 

Last fall was the first time my (now) fiancé joined my family for Thanksgiving weekend at Grandma’s house. We were both working for the church we attended, so we got up early that Sunday morning to begin church set up — Trevor on the stage and I with the children’s and nursery items.

As we spent the first couple of hours of our Sunday preparing the space, I felt a pool of anxiety start to flood within me. My mind raced with memories of the previous Thanksgiving — the not-yet-free-from-an-eating-disorder Thanksgiving. That year, I had put on a perfect play so that no one could tell how ashamed I was. I’d tried so hard to not offend my grandma when I didn’t take slices of her homemade pies.

After church, Trevor and I got in the car and made the short drive to my grandma’s house. Picking at my fingernails, I confessed to Trevor, I don’t know how this is going to go. I told him how it’d been so long since I celebrated Thanksgiving without being consumed with thoughts of not wanting to consume food. I told him how it’d been so long since I gathered with my family and ate a meal without carrying the immense weight of body shame.

The tears began to creep into my eyes.  

What if I don’t know how to not have an eating disorder on a day like this? What if Thanksgiving drags me right back to the place I’ve worked so hard to free myself from?

Trevor and I prayed over my fear, asking God to help me release it. Then we prayed over my mind, asking that God would protect it. It was then and there that I began to develop an anthem — a list of truths about God, myself, my body, and food — that I could repeat to myself whenever fear threatened to come in again:

  • My worth does not come from what I try to control.
  • My health is more than a number on a scale.
  • My beauty is far deeper than my skin and my body.
  • I don’t need permission to eat what is on my plate.
  • I don’t need to apologize for eating what I choose to eat.
  • I don’t have to receive comments about my food, habits, or body.
  • I can create boundaries — with family and with friends.
  • My value comes from Christ alone.
  • God already calls me good.

If I was sitting with you right now at your favorite coffee shop, I’d lean in close and tell you this: Your Creator has promised you an abundant life — a life of joy and freedom and peace. And anytime you believe the enemy’s lies about your body, you’ll miss out on the joy, freedom, and peace that has been purchased for you with the blood of Christ. 

Breathe in the truth. Let it seep down into your lungs and run through your blood. Let it shimmy into every inch of your body until you know it to be true, until you are living in the truth that your Creator speaks over you.

In Christ, there is freedom from all insecurity, eating disorders, and body shame.

This is your permission slip to release your fear of food this holiday season. Freedom is for you — wave your flag and sing your anthem.

At (in)courage, we believe in making space for all stories and experiences. With heartache, we recognize the reality of eating disorders. With hope, we share this story — proclaiming the help and healing that can be found in community and Christ. We are here for you, in prayer and in the comments below, should you wish to respond to this guest devotion. If you are in a crisis and walking through an eating disorder, please seek help from a medical or mental health care provider. You are not alone. There is help.

Are You Ready for a Change? Add a Morning Gratitude to Your Day

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In a fast-paced and demanding world, it can be easy to get caught up in the frenzy of daily life and overlook the simple blessings that surround us. But as Christ-followers, learning to express our gratitude to God is so crucial to our relationship with Him. Living a life of thankfulness and gratitude brings a measure of positivity and joy into every aspect of our lives – it nurtures our relationship with God, but it also encourages a positive mindset and enhances our well-being overall! The new book by Pray.com, Morning Gratitude: Inspiring Moments to Start Your Day, will help you embrace a habit of daily morning gratitude to the Lord. It takes just a few moments each day, and He will meet you right where you are as you commit to connecting with Him in a deeper way.

Read on for an excerpt from Morning Gratitude:

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.”
Matthew 5:9 KJV 

While relationships can sometimes be difficult, we can be grateful that God has provided His peace for our lives – and He says that His peace surpasses all our human understanding could ever comprehend. Peace with God and peace with others—that is what His Spirit can bring to our lives as we ask Him into our relationships. When other people are unkind, when they say or do things that upset you, that break your trust or even your heart, being a peacemaker, as Jesus asks, may seem impossible. But when you confess to the Lord all your hurt, all your anger, and all your pain, He will come into your heart and help you to forgive, to live in peace with Him, with others, and even with yourself. 

What blessings of peace have you enjoyed? What relationships has God restored in your life? Think of the delight that has come into your heart because of peace. In what past situations did you reach out to turn anger into agreement? With an attitude of gratitude, thank the Lord for helping you resolve past conflicts and for the fruits of joy and growth that have come from those relationships. Thank Him for the times you spend free from fear and hostility. And thank Him for the future reconciliation in your current broken relationships.  

Remember that God has called you to be a peacemaker. He wants you, as far as it is possible for you, to live as a peacemaker, bringing restoration and calm to all places where there is discord and disagreement. As you work toward living amicably and in unity with everyone you can, God will also work peace into your soul and spirit. Through obedience to God’s Word and a desire to bring harmony to all your relationships, you can become a peacemaker! 

God is present today, and He is listening to you as you pray for peace in every area of your life. Thank Him for His help and the ability to resolve conflicts. Ask Him for creative solutions to mend old bridges and build new ones, connecting people with each other and with God. Pray for peace in all your interactions; peace with your family and friends; peace at work with your superiors and your colleagues; peace in every area, every aspect, and every relationship in your life. And give thanks to God when He brings it to pass. 

Prayer: 

God, I praise You for Your peace, which surpasses all understanding. Your peace overcomes all circumstances, all fear and doubts. God, I worship You for giving me the ability to be a peacemaker. I praise You for calling me Your child. I know that You love me and that You have already provided a resolution to all conflict. Amen. 

—

Do you find yourself lagging in the morning, with little to no energy? Or maybe not being able to bounce back from life’s demands as easily as you once did? Are you ready for a change?

Adding a morning gratitude practice to your everyday routine will energize you and make you more resilient. It’s even said that it can help you live longer! Morning Gratitude: Inspiring Moments to Start Your Day will help you obtain the optimistic outlook you’ve always wanted while building a habit of thankfulness that will bring you true joy and peace every day for the rest of your life. 

With 100 entries that include a Scripture passage, devotion, written prayer, and prompt of praise, this companion for mornings with God will jumpstart your day in a positive way. As you reflect on His Word, you’ll start to notice His blessings all around you, giving you the energy and strength to face each day with joy and courage. 

Whether you’ve been following God for a while or are just starting your journey, the daily readings in Morning Gratitude will help you to align yourself with the promises of God and build deep lines of communication with your Creator.

Pick up your copy of Morning Gratitude: Inspiring Moments to Start Your Day today, and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

Pray.com serves millions of Christians worldwide with powerful life-changing messages. Pray.com prioritizes prayer by bringing users world-class faith-based audio content and is a private social network for prayer with daily devotions, original content, and stories narrated by inspirational celebrities.

 

Listen to today’s article at the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 11/24/23.

Three Simple (But Helpful) Things to Remember If You’re Struggling to Be Thankful

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Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite days of the year because it brings together people I love, spectacular food, and a tradition rooted in gratitude. And bonus: aside from harvest décor throwing up all over Hobby Lobby and Michaels, it’s not an overly commercialized holiday.

But, this year, I’m conflicted. The world feels a bit apocalyptic right now; merciless wars, political acrimony, mass shootings, and daily uncertainties are too many to name. Closer to home, my world has felt a bit apocalyptic, too. My sister was diagnosed with brain cancer. My husband’s job was eliminated after a company buy-out. My daughter-in-law is battling pain that doctors can’t quite figure out and relieve. My daughter quit her job to solo travel across South America for five months (which I would think is remarkable if it were your daughter).

Globally… personally… it’s all too much sometimes. Trials and tribulations don’t respect a calendar or care when it’s time to celebrate a holiday or special occasion. When life brings big and hard things all at the same time, despair, fear, helplessness, and pain conspire to demand our attention. And when we take our eyes off God and focus on the circumstances around us, we’ll sink just like Peter did when he took his eyes off Jesus.

So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him…
(See Matthew 14:27-31 ESV)

When Peter’s focus shifted from Jesus to his circumstances, he sank. But Jesus was right there to rescue him. What a relief that He does the same thing for you and me!

Without faith in God, His goodness, and the miracle of the gospel, I honestly don’t know how people get out of bed in the morning. The weight of the world is too heavy to carry alone. But that’s because we aren’t supposed to, right?

In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus implores us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (NIV). And in Galatians 6:2, the body of Christ is encouraged to carry one another’s burdens. Over and over, I’ve learned how walking out life’s difficulties with others is so much better than all by yourself.

And, when I finally trust God with the exhausting, sad, and complicated situations I’m facing, there’s room for peace to quiet the noise.

In tumultuous times, we’re quick to run to God, and, thankfully, He’s always waiting with open arms. But, when all is going well, sometimes we forget how much we need Him, don’t we?

While it’s not always easy to be thankful when life gets hard, gratitude is an essential aspect of our faith. In the seasons when I’m struggling, it helps me to remember a few simple things to lead me to genuine and heartfelt gratitude:

Remember God’s Unchanging Character: When you find it challenging to be thankful, remind yourself of God’s unchanging character. Throughout the Bible, God is described as faithful, loving, and compassionate. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). Even amid adversity, God remains constant. Trusting in His character can give you the confidence to be thankful, knowing that He is working all things together for your good (Romans 8:28).

Remember God’s Past Faithfulness: Reflect on the moments in your life when God has been faithful. Recall answered prayers, unexpected blessings, divine appointments, and God-winks. Maybe even create your own “altars of remembrance” in your heart, celebrating God’s past provisions. This kind of intention will encourage a heart of thanksgiving, even during difficulties.

Remember What Your Future Holds: It’s easy to become fixated on the trials of this world and lose sight of an eternal perspective. As believers, we are promised an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and kept in heaven for us (1 Peter 1:4). Our present struggles are temporary, but our future in Christ is secure. Keeping this eternal perspective in mind can help us endure hardships with a heart full of thanksgiving, knowing where our true treasure lies.

Struggling to be thankful is normal for most of us at some point in our lives. But because of Jesus and what He’s done for us, we have the tools to overcome this challenge. By remembering God’s unchanging character, His past faithfulness, and our eternal inheritance in Christ, we can cultivate a heart of gratitude even in the face of adversity. In doing so, we not only honor God but can also find peace, joy, and strength to navigate life’s difficulties with heartfelt thankfulness. And not just the week of Thanksgiving.

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app!

Do the Wildflowers Worry?

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22 Then Jesus said to his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. 23 For life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. 24 Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! 25 Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? 26 Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?

27 “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 28 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you — you of little faith! 29 And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. 30 For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31 But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

32 “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Luke 12:22-34 ESV

It turns out worry isn’t a 21st Century issue. Two thousand years ago, Jesus’s disciples were prone to worry too.

Worry is rooted in control. Essentially we’re asking the question, How am I going to make this all work out? How am I going to put food on the table for my family?  How am I going to buy new sneakers for my kids whose feet keep growing at an alarming speed? 

The questions we fret over today are based on very real needs, but worry blocks our awareness of our very real God. 

This is what Jesus was telling His friends: See Me! See My Father! See how We care for the birds and the flowers and the sheep. We delight even more in taking care of you. 

If worry is wreaking havoc on your heart and mind:

  • Reread today’s passage from Luke 12:22-34.
  • Write down 3 things you’re worried about today.
  • Write down 3 ways you’ve seen God take care of you in the past.
  • (Share in the comments if you’d like!)
  • Praise God for His faithfulness and that He is in control… so you don’t have to be.

Sisters, you are so loved.

 

The Loving Work of Biting Your Tongue

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We were hiding from the heat, sisters in solidarity against vacationing in places that felt as hot as the surface of the sun. While most of our friends lounged by the pool, living their best lives with umbrella drinks and beach reads, the four of us sought refuge in the blessedly air-conditioned hotel room. In the privacy of that room, we could finally admit that we were melting and a little bit hangry (hot + angry) about it.

As we commiserated and cooled off, our conversation quickly turned to deeper topics.

I can still see us in that room, two of us on each of the two beds, facing each other and slowly getting comfort- able. I’m not sure how we got from “I cannot deal with this heat” to “Some spaces aren’t safe for people who look like me,” but we did. Of the four of us friends, one was Black and one was Asian American. As they began to share their lived experiences in the world and on the internet, I was stunned.

Listening to their stories, I was shocked both by what I was hearing and learning and by my own reaction. At one point I sat on my hands in an attempt to remind myself to stay quiet and listen. I’d never before taken the phrase “bite your tongue” as literal advice, but as I felt objections rattling in my throat, I wondered if I would need to actually do it.

Internally I screamed, “But I’m not like that!” I longed to say, “I would never treat you like that—and I’m so mad that someone did!” Words of encouragement and empathy tend to be my friendship superpower, but somehow I knew this wasn’t the time. Somehow I sensed that my expressing rage on my friends’ behalf wasn’t what was needed. It wouldn’t help, and it might even hurt.

I sat in that hotel room in the summer of 2017, listening to my friends talk and carefully asking follow-up questions. It took restraint that I don’t normally exercise, discernment and discipline that can only be attributed to the Holy Spirit. And not only did God make it clear that I should talk less and listen more but He also helped me hear something new, something heart-changing.

When I heard my friends say that they didn’t feel welcome in communities that included very few people of color, my gut reaction was to yell, “But you are welcome! I promise! I want you there! You should feel welcome there!” I don’t think that reaction was completely wrong, but it was coming from a place of ignorance. I didn’t know what I didn’t know, but from that conversation and many more since then, I began to learn.

I’ve learned that I really don’t understand what it’s like to be a person of color in the United States. I’ve learned that having and loving friends from different cultural backgrounds doesn’t mean I know what it’s like to walk in their shoes. And as much as I’ve wanted to say, “We’re all the same!” and move on, glossing over our differences downplays the pain and struggle and the beauty of those very differences. I’ve learned that just because I’m not overtly racist doesn’t mean I don’t have biases or that I don’t benefit from a system rooted in racist assumptions and misunderstandings about people who are different from me.

I’ve learned that I have a lot to learn, and I won’t be able to do that if I open my mouth and shout, “Not me!” and “Not every . . . !” each time the issue of race comes up. I’ve learned that feeling things in my heart is a good start, but it doesn’t actually help my sisters and brothers of color. Well-intentioned emotions aren’t enough.

We have to actually sit down together and listen. Sit on your hands if you need to. Bite your tongue if that’s what it takes to stop yourself from interjecting or refuting what you’re hearing, and just listen. I’m not saying this is easy, my friend. As a white woman, it’s not easy for me to open up my mind and heart to recognize the injustices in this world, things that I simply wasn’t aware of or unintentionally turned a blind eye to. It’s not easy to sit in the tension of what the world is like and how I wish it would be. And I can only imagine that for my sisters and brothers of color it’s not easy to vulnerably share their stories of encountering racism. It can’t be easy to trust that you’ll be believed and not questioned, fully accepted and not secretly rejected.

Sitting together on hotel beds or around dining tables, in conference rooms or church pews and really listening to others whose experiences are unlike our own isn’t easy. But easy isn’t the point. The point is connection. The point is loving one another well.

This is an excerpt by Mary Carver from Come Sit with Me.

Learning, growing, and relating with people whose stories are unlike our own isn’t always easy or comfortable; but it is possible… and worth it!

In Come Sit with Me: How to Delight in Differences, Love through Disagreements, and Live with Discomfort, you’ll find stories from 26 (in)courage writers who bravely go first with their hard, awkward, sometimes heart-wrenching stories to give you real hope for the miraculous (and mundane) ways God works.

Listen to Mary Carver read her entire chapter, The Loving Work of Biting Your Tongue, on this bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast!

 

Don’t Stay on the Mountaintop

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Like many, I think the best part of fall is watching the trees change color, and in my opinion, there is no better place than Colorado. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the great flat state of Texas that I think Colorado is stunning. While we were visiting recently, my family and I decided to do the train ride to the top of Pike’s Peak. I knew we would be able to see all the beautiful trees showing off the fall colors up close on the way up the mountain.

My face lit up with joy as I watched the gold leaves of the Aspen dance in the wind and glitter as the sunshine hit them. There were rows and rows of evergreens that were hundreds of years old but as we got closer to the top, we noticed there were fewer trees. The conductor explained that this is called a timber line or tree line where the trees stop growing because of the harsh conditions of the altitude. The top of the mountain is not meant to sustain life for long periods of time, so there isn’t much up there.

As we got out of the train, the cold wind immediately hit our faces. It was much colder than I anticipated and my kids begged to go inside the visitor center for hot chocolate. But I stood outside and looked at the majestic beauty of nature all around me. It brought me to tears. I took a few pictures to remember the moment and then rushed inside the visitor center myself because the altitude change was starting to hit me.

The train ride up the mountain took one hour but we only stood on top of Pikes Peak for twenty minutes. Mountain tops are magical and wonderful, you truly feel like you’re on top of the world for a brief moment. But it is meant for a brief visitation; we’re not meant to live on the mountaintop.

In Matthew 17, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John to a mountaintop where Elijah and Moses appear. In this moment Jesus reveals a glimpse of His glory. It was surely an awe-inspiring moment! “Peter exclaimed, ‘Lord, it’s wonderful for us to be here! If you want, I’ll make three shelters as memorials — one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah'” (Matthew 17:4 NLT).

Leave it to Peter to speak honestly from the heart like a child. It was as if Peter was saying, “Jesus, this is the happiest and most magical place on earth! Please, can we stay here on the mountaintop?”

But God Himself interrupts Peter with a voice from the cloud that is so magnificent that they all fall on their faces!

We crave the mountaintop experiences but we cannot create our homes there. Life is not lived in the greatest moments or the most exciting parts of life, they are simply a part of our life.

There is a famous speech by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr where he states these words: “He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

The mountain top he refers to is what we see in Scripture over and over as the meeting place where people met with God, from Abraham to Moses to Elijah to Jesus. This was a place where God would speak to His people to propel their faith for their future.

We all need mountaintop moments where we experience the miraculous provision, power, and presence of God because we live in hard and challenging realities most days. Dr. King’s mountaintop experience fueled the fire deep within his soul to keep fighting for justice and equality for all. It gave him faith in the midst of adversity and struggle, which is why he could say, “I am not worried. I am not fearing any man.”

Like Peter, we often try to pray away the struggles and the suffering; we long to live on the mountaintop. It’s easy to see God on there. There is good all around for us — majestic 360 views — and it’s easy to glorify God when surrounded by beauty. But down below, where we actually walk out life day by day, it is a little harder to see God.

What if the purpose of the mountaintop moment was not to simply post something pretty on social media, but to teach us to look beyond the now and to stir up our faith in Him for the future? What if, like Dr. King, we are supposed to draw strength from our mountaintop moment to keep going in the valleys?

Take time today to reflect on the mountaintop moments of your life, and recall God’s faithfulness. I pray that they will give you vision and faith for the mundane moments of today and the valleys of tomorrow.

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts!

 

Our God, Our Healer

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When you hear the word healing, what comes to mind? This word may bring amazing testimonies to mind or it may bring painful or disappointing memories. My perspective on healing today in my 40s is vastly different than it was in my childhood.

I grew up Catholic in the Bible Belt of the United States. I don’t remember the priest in my church or the nuns in my school ever talking about healing in our lives or God being a Healer. I don’t remember any of the adults around me talking about healing either. I do remember there being lots of conversations about people being sick or dying. There were no real answers or directions attached to those conversations.

Now, I was never a sickly child, so healing for myself was never at the forefront of my thoughts. My grandmother, who I lived with, became sick beginning in my junior high years through high school. She saw numerous doctors and was taking numerous medications. That was the way it was. She passed away during my freshman year of college. During those same years, several family members also passed away.

I never thought anything more than that this was the circle of life. People are born. They live. Then they die. I never knew that people being healed was an option. But I do now. I’ve witnessed it!

With this being a month where we tend to focus on giving thanks, I thought it was fitting to share some of the things that make my heart overflow with gratitude! I am beyond grateful that Jesus is our Great Physician who came to forgive sinners and heal the sick (see Mark 2). I am beyond grateful for the fact that we are healed by His stripes. Jesus was beaten and bruised for our healing. His shed blood paid for our complete healing . . . body, soul, and spirit.

As I’ve gotten older, my body has changed. Things that I never dealt with have all of a sudden become concerns. One of those concerns has been my knees. I’ve never been athletic, but I do love to work out and dance. So, it was a devastating blow in 2018 when I was diagnosed with patella tendonitis in both of my knees. It impacted my life in almost every area. I couldn’t run or work out the way I used to, or kneel to pray at church. It hurt to walk up the stairs to my townhouse and to simply stand up after being seated. But, God!

This past May when I reconnected with my friend Angela, that all changed. She was ministering at an event and ended by praying for people’s needs. I had been prayed for over the years with small glimpses of hope. So, I asked for prayer for something else, but she ended up praying for another woman’s knees over the microphone. I dialed in and told God I received that same healing for myself. And a miracle happened. My knees immediately felt better, but the next day my knees felt amazing! They’ve felt amazing ever since! Five years was a long time to be in pain, but I know God was with me every step of the way. And now I’m so grateful for these six months of healing! 

I can’t think of healing and gratitude without thinking about Chans. A couple of summers ago, my friends experienced something that no one ever wants to experience. Alida and Chans and their teenagers Rylee and Carter were driving to church on a Sunday morning. Chans was in the passenger seat. One minute he was talking and the next minute — nothing. He passed out and then his heart stopped. But, God! On their way to the hospital, the kids got word to the youth pastor and he got word to the whole church. In the middle of the service, we stopped everything and prayed for God to bring life back to Chans’s body. The kids still wanted to come to church, so their grandparents picked them up from the hospital and brought them. Again, we stopped everything we were doing, surrounded them, and prayed for life and strength and God’s resurrection power. The Lord heard and He answered. He restored life to Chans’ body! The doctors had no explanation as to why His heart stopped or why it started again. He stayed in the hospital overnight and went home the next day.

That was the greatest miracle I’ve ever witnessed.

You might be thinking that your loved one didn’t get the miracle you were expecting or praying for. These testimonies are simply to build your faith as to what the Lord can do. My miracle was progressive over the years. Chans’ was in a moment. But, I am still waiting on other miracles along with some of my closest people. I’ve also lost loved ones over the years — but they are fully healed in the presence of the Father. I grieved the deep loss with the confident hope that I will see them again one day.

I’m sure the woman with the issue of blood in Mark 5 had all but given up the little hope she had. But, when she heard Jesus was nearby, she tried one more time to find her healing. She persisted and pushed past the crowd just to touch the hem of His garment. She knew the Scriptures in Malachi that said there was healing in His wings, which was the hem of His garment. She believed His Word over the words of every doctor she had seen. She believed He was who He said He was and that He could do what He said He could do. When God moves, He does it wholly. Jesus also honored the woman’s faith and restored her back to her community after years of being isolated and rejected.

Oh that we would believe that today! Oh that we would believe that Jesus’s blood speaks a better Word! Healing is coming. Sometimes it doesn’t come in the way we expected or in the timing we planned on. But know that it’s coming.

Our God loves us. Our God is faithful. Our God is our Healer.

If you’ve experienced a miracle healing, I’d love to hear about it! If you’re still waiting on one, I’d love to pray for you!

 

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or wherever you stream podcasts!

 

The Practice of Being Unoffendable

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It should have been a small matter. Easily discussed, easily resolved. Only it wasn’t.

It started with a home improvement project. One neighbor tackled a do-it-yourself job on the weekend. But then it rained, and some of the dust and debris from the project drained along the curb toward the neighbor’s house next door. When the rain dried, the curb remained streaked white from the neighbor’s remodeling job, a valid frustration for the neighbor who prided himself on a tidy home, no doubt. But nothing that an honest conversation and a little mutual understanding couldn’t resolve.

Only, neither of those things happened. Instead, harsh words, threats, phone calls, and a neighborhood feud that lasted years, long after the white streaks faded and disappeared.

Today, I witnessed something similar on social media. An account posted a funny Christian meme. Some thought it was silly, worth a chuckle. Others found it offensive, worth a rebuke and rant. For the record, the post contained nothing perverse, profane, or illegal. The overarching tone of the post (as well as the main account) was “all in good fun.” The end result, however, was anything but.

Offense has rapidly become the fabric of our culture. Everywhere I turn, someone is offended. Is our world more offensive than ever before? Maybe. There’s no shortage of profanities and abuses that should turn our stomachs and break our hearts. And sometimes situations require us to call out abuses and injustices. But I don’t think our over-sensitivity toward offense is an external problem; it’s an internal one.

The Roman culture Jesus was immersed in was chock full of reasons for offense. Polytheism. Unrestrained hedonism. Disregard for human life. Over-sexualization. From a value standpoint, Rome and Jesus shared little in common. Even in religious circles, many found a reason to be offended by His message. And yet, Jesus resisted allowing external pressure to become an internal posture of offense. Even more interesting, the rare instances we see Jesus truly offended were when the religious grew too comfortable on their moral high ground.

In other words, Jesus’s offense wasn’t directed at a world that was doing what the world does. It was directed at the God-lovers and grace-receivers who should’ve known better.

So how do you and I become more like Jesus? How do we become unoffendable in a world whose values are often contrary to our own? How do we become light-shiners and joy-givers rather than adding more vitriol to our culture of offense?

Proverbs gives us several good places to start:

“Whoever would foster love covers over an offense,
but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends.”
Proverbs 17:9 (NIV)

“A person’s wisdom yields patience;
it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.”
Proverbs 19:11 (NIV)

“It is to one’s honor to avoid strife,
but every fool is quick to quarrel.”
Proverbs 20:3 (NIV)

Keeping these proverbs in mind, here are a few practices that have helped me to resist offense and, instead, offer Jesus’s hope and light to a world that desperately needs both:

1. Don’t be surprised when people disappoint. Remember: Without Jesus, you and I would be just as profane and perverse and entitled as the world. Sometimes we still are. The gospel is the only solid ground we stand on. Not morality.

2. Assume positive intent. “Intention impacts emotion.” If you assume someone is purposely trying to hurt, offend, or rile you, your emotions will follow. If you assume the other person is doing the best they can and aren’t necessarily trying to create a stir, your emotions will follow, as well. I remember my late friend Luci Swindoll saying, “Take everything as a compliment. You’ll live longer.”

3. Stay curious. This has been a game changer for me and our family. What does it mean to stay curious? It means choosing a learning posture rather than a judgment posture. This is often best accomplished by observing what is happening rather than feeling stuck in the middle of it. In other words, we want to stay in the executive function part of our brains, not the emotional center of our brains. And staying curious is the road to doing just that. For example, rather than, “What a jerk!” try asking yourself, “I wonder what challenge she faced today that caused her to lash out that way?” OR rather than, “He did that on purpose just to hurt me!” try asking, “I wonder what is weighing on his mind or distracting him? This isn’t his usual behavior.”

4. Gather more information. If someone says or does something that annoys, irritates, or aggravates you, consider the possibility that you don’t have all the facts. In short, PAUSE. Press pause on jumping to conclusions. Instead, ask questions. Get more information. And in the absence of extra information, resist easy conclusions. Rushing to judgment is easy. But wisdom requires patience.

5. Know your limits. Boundaries are good, healthy, and necessary, for all of us. Living without limits is a recipe for disaster. Knowing your limits is a recipe for individual and relational health. Remember: Boundaries aren’t punitive — they’re preservative. They are put in place in an attempt to save the relationship, not squash it. If a certain relationship or social media account is stirring up offense within, take a break. Better to give yourself time to process with Jesus than lash out in a way that only leads to regret.

For now, I pray for the day when those who claim Jesus as their Savior are seen as light-givers and healers. As Paul wrote in Philippians 2, “Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, ‘children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.’ Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky.” (vs. 14-15 NIV). 

Let’s shine, friends. Stars in a dark sky, leading those who wander home.

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app!

What to Do When Grief Makes Us Angry

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My midwife told me when I was birthing my second baby girl that if I held my breath the contractions would hurt even more. My natural reaction in pain is to tense my muscles and hold my breath to avoid the pain. In childbirth, I needed deep, long, measured breaths to carry me through the pain. Somehow breathing through the pain helped release the pressure instead of holding it at bay until it tumbled like water crashing over a dam.

In my journey of loss, I have learned that, as in labor, we have to breathe through the contractions, the triggers, and the sorrow of grief. Though grief can often feel like a slow, dull ache, there are also times when our grief journeys will feel more intense, like quickened contractions in childbirth or what they call “transition”— that intense period when contractions come right on top of each other before the baby is born.

In Genesis 32, we read about Jacob seeing God face-to-face in his time of need. Jacob is in a hard place. He is fresh out of a crisis with his uncle Laban. He feels distressed and afraid because his brother Esau and four hundred of his men are making their way toward him (Genesis 32:7).

Jacob decides to take his two wives, two female servants, and his eleven children (his closest people) with him across the Jabbok River to protect them. After he sends them to relative safety, he is jumped by a stranger who wrestles with him through the night. 

“When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
Genesis 32:25-26 NIV

The man asked Jacob his name and then proceeded to rename him Israel because he struggled with God and with humans, and overcame. 

Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.” But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.” Genesis 32:29 NIV

Jacob was afraid, alone, and physically broken — but that is the precise moment when God chose to bless him. God entered the challenge with Jacob, which may have been a spiritual battle as much as a physical wrestling, and then changed his name to Israel and honored him for prevailing through the wrestling match.

This scene is a good reminder that God can handle our anger, our frustration, our doubts, and our discouragement.

He is with us in our grief even when we are wrestling spiritually.

Friend, I know it might be tempting to just grit your teeth and power through, but expressing our anger and frustration to God can actually help us emerge on the other side with resilience and strength. It’s like breathing through the most intense contractions and releasing the pressure instead of holding our breath through the pain.

You may feel angry about the death of your loved one or the injustice your child experienced. You might feel frustrated that your family has experienced loss. It’s not wrong to have those feelings.

In Ephesians 4:26–27, Paul reminds us: “Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil” (ESV). In this passage, Paul isn’t saying we should never be angry. He acknowledges that anger may rise in us, but it shouldn’t cause us to sin.

Acknowledge your hard-to-handle feelings. Shout them to God. Breathe through the pain, and be on guard, as Paul highlights, to ensure you do not dwell in your anger or give the devil a foothold. 

I struggled through many of those feelings after my husband died from cancer. I questioned and cried, wrestled and wrung my hands. I laid my lament at Jesus’s feet day after day. Little by little, I learned to breathe through the contractions, and that’s where a deep healing and trust in God were born.

Is there something you are grieving today? Is there a circumstance that makes you angry that you need to name? Write it down or share in the comments.

Pray this prayer with me:

Dear Lord,
Like Jacob, I am wrestling today.
I am feeling the weight of frustration and anger.
Meet me in those feelings.
Help me to see where You are at work in the circumstances.
Give me the fortitude to keep fighting until I reach the truth.
I long to see Your face like Jacob did amid my own struggle.
I long for Your blessing.
In Jesus’s name,
Amen.

—

After the sudden loss of her husband, Dorina felt lost in her grief. In her new guided journal, Breathing Through Grief, she provides a compassionate, giftable resource for those who are processing their own loss, whether of a loved one, a season of life, or a dream. In addition to the twenty-five short devotions that each focus on a different aspect of grief from Dorina’s personal experience, the journal includes special resources such as:

  • breathing exercises
  • reflection questions
  • soul care tips
  • ample writing space
  • advice on how to talk to children about death
  • suggestions on how to approach triggers
  • creative ways to honor a loved one’s memory

If you or someone close to you is walking through loss⁠, let the comforting words in Breathing Through Grief encourage you with the knowledge that you are not alone and bring you a semblance of peace as you continue forward on the road to healing.

We know this book will be a blessing in your life, or the life of someone you love.

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN a copy*!

Then join Becky Keife this weekend on the (in)courage podcast for a conversation with Dorina. Don’t miss it!

 

Listen to today’s article at the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Sheep, Hot Chocolate, and Childlike Faith

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I, not unlike Taylor Swift, was born in 1989. I am a 30-something, work a full-time job, and do boring grown-up things like pay bills and say things like, “I really need to go get my oil changed.” When I was a child, I was imaginative and built a play post office in my room that no one came to (because why would they mail something from a pretend post office?) and I had the occasional imaginary friend. I spent my afternoons and weekends pretending, playing Nintendo, and riding bikes around a local church’s giant parking lot with the neighborhood boys.

But one day, I just…grew up. I stopped imagining so much and hopping around so much and laughing so hard and yelling with excitement. And like all of us… I changed. And that’s a good thing! It’s fine to mature, slow down, and settle in a bit. But the other day, I was at a church retreat and I was greeted by a 3-year-old in a wool dress, who grabbed her hem and very joyfully announced to me, “This dress is made of SHEEP.”

Something in me clicked back to that childlike joy and I said to her, “Really??”

She smiled and said, “YES.”

This was big news. This was good news. This was fun news. And we talked about how neat it is that a sheep has wool and we can turn it into things like her purple dress.

I don’t have conversations like that with my friends in small group. I know that wool exists, but I don’t go telling people how it’s made. To children, everything is interesting and everything has a bigger headline.

You can make a dress out of sheep!
The moon is in the sky at night!
If you push a button, you can take a photo!

As the church retreat went on, I noticed this little pack of children running around, throwing themselves into every activity they did, endlessly showing off their friendship bracelets. One boy spent the weekend running, lying down on the ground, and whispering, “Safe!” because he was a baseball player. Another boy was so eager to see my flying drone that he had to be held back so he wouldn’t try to grab it as it hovered near the ground.

There was no formal childcare at the retreat. Instead, we took turns looking after the kids, making sure they didn’t escape the dining hall, and asking if anyone needed help. One father who was there with his two kids held a crying two-year-old. We asked, “What do you need?”

“It would make my life a LOT easier if someone would refill the hot water so he can have some hot chocolate.”

So we went to the kitchen staff and we got some water and we brought back a mug of hot chocolate and it resolved the big feelings of a previously upset toddler.

I believe that children’s church is a fine thing and ministry events geared toward kids are a gift. But as adults, we often miss out when we don’t put ourselves in the midst of our youngest congregants. We forget that we were once children, running around and spreading the news about every little thing. After all, Jesus says He wants us to come to Him like children.

 At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Matthew 18:1-3 (ESV)

Become like children. Uninhibited. Free. Not holding back or wondering what people will think.

On the last morning of the retreat, a young adult named Danner stood near the table where kids were doing crafts and he said, “I want to help with the kids but I never know what to say to them.”

“I find that if I just ask them basic questions, they’re good to go,” I offered.

Just in front of us, the Sheep Dress Gal was trying to glue wings on a puppet. I leaned over and said, “What do you need?”

“I need help with this chicken,” she said so simply.

“Okay, great. Mr. Danner is going to help you.”

I waved him over and watched as he held a glue stick and then used his bigger hands to press the felt together, offering the simplest support. And I wonder if this is what Jesus meant when he invited us to be childlike. Perhaps we’ve been invited to not overthink and just slow down and ask questions. To notice the very obvious and celebrate the very ordinary. To delight in others and in little wonders. To kneel down and offer a hand.

Because the Kingdom is for all of us, even those who can’t quite read or pay bills or get the oil changed, and when we invite their joy and wonder and delight, we see the Kingdom better.

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or on your fave podcast app!

Finding Gratitude in the Good and Bad

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A friend recently asked me a question. It came out of nowhere, making me pause and, at the same time, sending my memory down a path that seemingly had only two possibilities. You see, my friend is raising teenagers and sees life through their eyes. She’s seeing the wonder of their innocence, all while scanning her adult mind to predict the moments — and therefore memories — that could come to pass.

When you remember your childhood, is it good? Or is it bad? That’s what she asked. A simple survey between long-time friends. A focus group of comfort, support, and sheer honesty. She wanted my knee-jerk answer. A response off the cuff. Such a profound question had me searching thirty-seven years of memories in attempt to answer her ,As someone who loves the art of stringing a few words together, I gave my big picture answer — childhood was bad. But . . . when I really let myself think through the details of my childhood, then my answer changes — childhood was good. And, I know, it’s not the data she was hoping to collect. To answer both “good” and “bad” meant she’d have to tally both sides. Why bother even recording my answer at all?

The thought lingered in my mind. Then came a wave of nostalgia, a fistful of regret, a pinch of shame, and an outpouring of memories that needed to be pieced together like a puzzle. So, one by one I put the thousands of tiny pieces together until they snapped into place, creating a big picture that made sense of everything that came to my mind. Here is what I realized . . .

It’s as if the most painful memories are the most prominent ones. When asked about my childhood, the first memories that come to mind are those of me moving and saying goodbye to friends when I was in the sixth grade. Then there are the fragmented memories of my parents arguing, me crying whenever I was left out by friends, being teased at school, and fights with siblings.

Still, as soon as these images flashed across my mind . . . so, too, did a few others. As I thought a little deeper, digging into the details of my youth, I remembered my mom writing special notes on white paper napkins and tucking them inside our school lunch boxes. I remember my grandma making brownies with us and letting me lick the bowl of batter. I remember wearing matching nighties with my sister and the way our freshly showered, damp hair drapped down our backs as we watched I Love Lucy with our mom.

I wonder, is this how I view God and His gifts? Do miss the good because I paint a wide brush stroke over all the things that I call bad? Deep down, do I ultimately think that God simply doesn’t care—when I see people battling cancer, find myself still single after divorce, or watch the world suffer in heartache. “Bad” would certainly be the word I’d label life if I only glanced at the big picture.

Perhaps a heart of gratitude reaches a little deeper, finding God’s goodness in the smallest of moments — an intimate smile shared between patients in a waiting room. The newfound joy someone who is blind finds when wrapping his arms around his guide dog. The comfort of a friend sending a thoughtful card or text that simply says, “I’m praying for you.”

These intricate details are like the soft petals of flowers that make up a full bouquet. So beautiful up close and yet they still matter when looked at all together. And as I reflect during this season of thanks, I want my heart to overflow with gratitude for the One who made me and etched out every small piece of my story. Because now, and even then — in my childhood when I felt the sting of tears in my eyes —I see the goodness of God.

God’s goodness is all around us despite the tragedies that strike this broken earth.

No matter what this chapter of life holds, I know God is a good Author. He is the One who sent a neighbor to look over me even though I was sad to live alone. He is the One who sent strong Christian women to befriend me when I was weak and weary after divorce. He is the One who brought me into a church small group with real women who love genuinely and laugh from the soul.

God loves us so much that He weaves goodness into our every moments — even the bad ones. We might be delighted — even surprised — to look back and see how He was there through it all, giving us good gifts and grace . . . like napkin notes in a lunchbox on a bad day.

And for that, I am truly thankful.

Where Will Your Help Come From?

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I lift my eyes toward the mountains.
Where will my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to slip;
your Protector will not slumber.
Indeed, the Protector of Israel
does not slumber or sleep.
The Lord protects you;
the Lord is a shelter right by your side.
The sun will not strike you by day
or the moon by night.
The Lord will protect you from all harm;
he will protect your life. 
The Lord will protect your coming and going
both now and forever.
Psalm 121 (CSB)

When everything seems impossible, when taking the next step seems unbearable, we shout and cry, loudly and silently, asking God to come through, to help. Our prayers don’t go out to a void that can’t reply back to us. Our prayers ascend to the Maker of heaven and earth, and He is ready at all times to hear us, help us, and be with us.

 

When You Feel Alone in the Struggle

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I’ve never thought of myself as an “us versus them” kind of girl. I’m the person who tried never to exclude people at the fourth-grade lunch table because I just so badly wanted to be included. Making sure everyone belonged, every time, was a badge I wore as proudly as the ones I stapled onto my Girl Scout sash in elementary school. (I obviously never earned my sewing badge.)

One of the ways I have been most proud of including people is in my stories that deal with being overweight. If you love me, you might call me “curvy” or “Rubenesque.” But if you’re on the internet, hidden by a computer screen, you might call me “huge” or “gross.” I’ve been called both. By Christians. In God’s love, of course. Because, as I’ve been reminded over and over again, “gluttony is a sin.”

So I wrote an article for all my curvy friends who struggle with their weight. I wrote to say that while you may not always love your body size, God can use it, because others who see your struggle can know that you are a safe person compared to those who appear perfect.

And I heard from women. A lot of women.

It felt great to give a voice to these women who so often feel like the world is not built for them. I heard from a lot of people who said, “This is exactly my story” or “I feel this so deeply.” So many of us have the same story. Because of our appearance, we’ve felt judged before fully stepping into the room. We’ve felt excluded when people critique our perceived weakness before we’ve even had a conversation with them. We’ve felt like “less than” Christians because of our battle with our weight.

But now we curvy girls had found each other, and we could see each other in our shared imperfection. The presumption was, “You are safe and you are loved exactly as you are.” I was excited to know that women who often feel so “other” were finding a measure of hope and peace through my words. Talking about my weight is never easy, but I’m willing to do it so that someone else can feel more seen and less alone.

Can I be honest with you? I even wanted to start a club for Christian women whose BMI is not socially acceptable. I wanted a permanent safe place where we could build a fort and not let any of those mean voices from our everyday lives (or, even worse, the internet) have the password to get in. I had found my people, and we shopped in the plus-size section.

So, I was a little taken aback by the voice message I got from my newish friend, Becky Keife, who started out by saying, “I just need you to know what an impact your article has had on me.” She went on to say that she had never before thought of her weakness as being a shortcut to connection, and she was grateful to have this new perspective, all because I’d been vulnerable in an article.

Why did I find this odd? Because one look at Becky would confirm that she is not and probably never has been plus-sized. I had to take a beat. Why would she connect with my article about being fat?

And to be perfectly honest, for just a moment I thought, “But I didn’t write this article for you.”

It never occurred to me that someone who didn’t look like me could understand or connect with my experience. I was so busy trying to connect with the people who looked like me that I became the one “othering” someone who felt the same pangs of struggle I did, just with a lower BMI.

You see, what I didn’t know about Becky is that she suffers from clinical anxiety. And my article talked about weakness being a shortcut to trust. My weakness? My weight. Becky’s weakness? Her anxiety.

I guess in my own myopic view I thought that someone like Becky couldn’t understand what it felt like to be outside the scope of socially “normal.” But there she was, in a struggle different from but in many ways so much like my own.

It is small and shortsighted of me to assume that a person is not suffering on the inside just because they look like the world’s version of perfect on the outside. Or that they can’t be used by God in the same way I can because their challenges aren’t as visible as mine.

I know all of this on paper. I just get it mixed up in my mind. And my heart.

I confessed all of this to Becky. My assumptions about her seemingly perfect life without the struggle of weight. The idea that she couldn’t relate to me because we hadn’t worn the same size jeans. I’m so glad I was wrong. Becky may not be in my BMI club, but she showed me that the circle of vulnerability and struggle is much wider than I thought. Showing up with our stories and a healing dose of love and grace was the invitation we both needed to enter into each other’s circles.

Later, Becky texted me this one simple sentence: “Assumptions are barriers to connection, but stories are bridges to understanding.”

Exactly.

By Kathi Lipp, adapted from her chapter in Come Sit with Me.

Today’s devotion is an excerpt by Kathi Lipp from our book Come Sit with Me: How to Delight in Differences, Love through Disagreements, and Live with Discomfort. 

Whether you’re in the middle of a conflict without resolution or wondering how to enter into a friend’s pain, this book, with stories from 26 (in)courage writers, will serve as a gentle guide. Discover how God can work through your disagreements, differences, and discomfort in ways you might never expect.

You can hear to Kathi read her entire chapter on this bonus episode of the (in)courage podcast! Click here to listen. 

 

God Will Go Anywhere to Pursue You — Even a Gentlemen’s Club

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It was a Friday night when I pulled into the gentlemen’s club where I worked as an exotic dancer. Like many other nights, before the start of a shift, I would sit in my car and contemplate whether I should go in or drive away. I sat there for several minutes deeply conflicted. Searching for every reason not to go in and just feeling dreadful. After coming to the conclusion that there was no other choice (because expenses were high and rent was due), I turned off the engine. Even from the parking lot, I could hear the music blaring inside the club. My heart pounded inside my chest as panic and anxiety took hold of me. In that moment, I desperately prayed: “Dear God, I hate this place! I hate doing this. I have no strength to do this anymore. Could you please protect me and help me find a way out? Thank you, God, for listening. Amen.” 

A sense of peace washed over me like a summer sunrise. I had never prayed like that and it was my first heartfelt cry out to the Lord. As I got out of the car, somehow, in my heart, I knew Jesus had listened and was with me. He had plans to not only rescue me from that dark and degrading place but His will was to completely remake me.

Days after that night, I decided not to work weekends anymore. (The thought of another bachelor party sickened me.) I had started looking for a church and was soon attending services. Although I felt completely out of place at church, there was a comfort there that I had been longing for. As the worship music played, tears of joy trickled down my face. I knew I was experiencing God’s love for the first time.

One Sunday, a greeter handed me a flyer for a women’s event. Initially, I didn’t think that I would go, but when the day arrived, God’s gentle, faint voice encouraged me. Arriving at the event, I chose an empty table. It had a pink tablecloth with permanent markers and name tags. After I scribbled down my name, more women entered the room and filled up the tables. To my surprise, some sat at my table. While we were making introductions, I observed attentively. Doubts raced through my mind and I was filled with thoughts of condemnation. 

The small talk was excruciating and I wondered, How can I tell anyone that I take my clothes off to make a living? Within seconds, the enemy convinced me that I was despicable and that no one would even remotely relate to my struggles. I believed the enemy’s lies that I didn’t belong at that women’s gathering and that I needed to run. I politely excused myself to use the bathroom but ultimately I went straight for the exit doors. Holding back tears, I got to my car and sobbed uncontrollably. I felt unlovable and helpless, and I gave into believing that I would never get out of the adult entertainment industry. 

Weeks later, while working at the club again, I walked out of the dressing room to find four women sitting in a corner across from the main stage. I asked another dancer, “Do you know who those women are?”  

“Oh, them,” she responded. “They’ve been coming here for a few weeks now.” 

“Do you know why they’re here?” I asked curiously. 

“They say they’re with God or something,” she said. Then she told me to just ignore them, though they did give out favor bags — which isn’t exactly a tip, but it’s still better than nothing. That night, I walked past them every time I left the stage. I was careful to not make eye contact or even look in their direction. The following week, they were back again. Only this time, after getting off stage, I felt a faint inclination to slow down when walking by them. The sweetest voice stopped me and asked if I would like a bag she had made for me. Bewildered and appreciative, I took the white paper gift bag and shyly thanked her. Later, in the dressing room, I pulled a book from the gift bag.

The cover of that book? It read Bible. And, well, the rest is history. Because, just as with all stories in the Bible, mine, too, is the story of God leaving the ninety-nine to find the one lost in the wilderness. Jesus is a pursuer — He pursued me relentlessly and He will pursue you too.

He will go anywhere to pursue you, even to the most unlikely of places. For me, He found and met me where I was — a gentlemen’s club. Sometime after that first night I was ministered to, I went back to church and gave my life to Christ. I left the adult entertainment industry and devoted my life to Jesus, not minding what it would look like or where it would take me.

He rescued, remade, and restored me — and I know He can remake you, too.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV)

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

How to Keep Caring When the News Is Overwhelming

by

I swing the door open, breathing in crisp autumn air as our gentle giant Max meanders into the front yard. His floppy ears, animated expressions, and puppy-like paws remind me of a stuffed animal.

Golden light filters through the sun-drenched canopy of leaves. I look up and feel the beams of hope on my face. Decades-old oaks and maples sway in the breeze, shaking off the last vestiges of a verdant summer, dotting the air with leaves falling like feathers from an old down pillow.

Mighty maples flank our 115-year-old home. Their leaves boast rich oranges and robust golds. Squirrels with fat cheeks full of acorns chase each other up and down the trunks, teasing my dog as he sniffs the fallen leaves.

I look at the peeling paint on our front door, the same one that has whispered welcome home to generations of families who have stepped across the threshold. Just beyond the door, backpacks and sneakers fill the entryway as beeps and buzzes from my kids’ video games fill the air.

I exhale alongside a gust of not-yet winter wind. Max sits at attention, waiting for me as I survey the scene brick by brick.

Home.

I don’t know how to reconcile this peace in front of me with the photos I saw earlier in the day. Pictures of homes that used to hold families like mine had turned to rubble, leaving mounds of mortar where grandmothers cooked meals and fathers read stories.

Between work deadlines and school carpools, I had read just enough global news to be aware of countries on the other side of the globe that were waging war, leaving crumbled communities, smoldering streets, and shattered spirits in their wake.

The real-time photographs I scrolled through on my phone looked like a journalist had captured the rubble with black-and-white film, all the city’s color wiped away.

It’s a world away, the headline proclaimed.

But it’s not a world away, I think as my dog rolls in the leaves.

It’s our world, the one God so loved.

All this pain and suffering is happening now. I don’t know how to hold that reality.

How can it be that mothers rock their hungry babies in bomb shelters while my kids eat after-school cookies at the kitchen table, forgetting to put the lid back on the milk?

What does home look like for a family when war robs life of its color, its vibrant hues suddenly grayscale?

I want to rid my mind of the memory of what I’ve seen. I don’t want to hold onto evidence of a warring world, parts of a puzzle I cannot piece together.

It’s easy for me to speak of beauty, hope, and wonder from this view, my view, one of soft breezes and sturdy bricks. Safety and security are words that not everyone gets to write; I know this. 

My heart constricts. Like David in Psalm 13, I ask, How long, O Lord?

Why does clean, fresh water sit in my dog’s bowl inside our well-stocked kitchen while, at the same time, a mother gives her thirsty child contaminated water because it’s all they have to drink?

I realize I’m still standing in the same place, staring at the same view of home like it’s one of those pictures where a new image will appear if you gaze long enough.

When your heart aches with unanswered prayer, when you feel overwhelmed by the weight of a weary world, remember this: God understands the complex wonderings of a human heart.

Moved in mercy, Jesus took on flesh and became like us. In Christ, we are not left alone as we process pain.

God is in the war zone. God is in the autumn breeze.

There is so much we don’t know; this is true. But we can hold stubborn hope that this, too, is true: God is with us.

To be awake to our seemingly ordinary lives – to the leaves that shimmer in the golden light – is also to be tender to the cries of our warring world, the one God so loved.

We live in a world where peace and war swirl, where the sacred and the profane commingle. In one breath, we give thanks in awe of the goodness of God. And in the next, we cry out, asking God how long the pain will last.

When your heart aches for a widow who weeps on the other side of the world, when you cry for a child caught in the crossfires of war, remember that your compassion for humanity reflects the very heart of God.

You cry for another because He first cried for you.

You pray for another because He first prayed for you.

You advocate for another because He first advocated for you.

You love another because He first loved you (1 John 4:19).

In light of God’s compassion, may you be brave enough to stay tender to the world’s beauty and pain. When the world feels off its axis, may hope-soaked sunbeams warm your tear-streaked face. May you experience Christ alongside you – in both the joy and the sorrow that comes with being human and honoring the humanity of another. May God’s mercy move you to extend mercy to another, knowing that we love because He first loved us.

Find more hope to help you stay awake to the beauty and pain of the world in Kayla’s new book Every Season Sacred, a year-long devotional filled with reflections and prayers to nourish your soul as you nurture your family.

 

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.