Embracing the Mystery of Faith in Every Season

September 22, 2023 by Kayla Craig

On an early September morning, with the skies still deep in their slumber, a dear friend pulled into my driveway. I kissed my snoring husband on the forehead, tiptoed through the kitchen as I checked into my flight, and wheeled my suitcase outside. School was back in session, and I was heading to a writing conference. The fall air was thick with an early morning fog.

The mark of a good friend is someone who drives you to the airport. The mark of a best friend is someone who wakes up early and drives forty-five minutes of winding back roads to get you to the airport on time.

It was too early for conversation, so we were quiet during the drive, the two-lane road bending and shifting as the car carried us forward. Haze hung thick in the air, and the back roads seemed even quieter than usual. The far-stretching fields turned from green to gold. We could see only a slight stretch ahead of us.

The morning mist held a sense of mystery, inviting my mind to wander. Will my kids be okay while I’m gone? Is it selfish to travel for work? My unspoken anxieties hung in the autumn air as we traveled on the sleepy roads. I wanted to see further ahead, to know everything would be okay.

No matter how much we want to see what will be, we live surrounded by mystery.

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring — we are but a vapor, our lives a mist (see James 4:14).

I wonder what it would be like if followers of Christ were known for our willingness to embrace the mystery rather than claiming to always have clear and concise answers.

Because the truth is that a life of faith is mysterious.

We live in mystery, believing there is truth in a swirl of now and not yet.

Amid life’s unpredictability, the temptation to seek clear-cut answers is strong. Yet, we believe in a God who created galaxies and became an infant born in the dirt. We live in the tension of now and not yet, unable to fathom all the mysteries of life and God’s ways.

The apostle Paul reminds us that this Christian life is a profound mystery that exceeds our understanding (1 Timothy 3:16). We don’t have all the answers, but we believe in the mysterious truth that is clear enough. In the haze of the unknown, we trust that Christ will light our path just enough to keep moving forward.

Eventually, our drive through the dense fog ended. My friend pulled up to the departure line at the airport, and I opened the car door, the thick fog blanketing me.

I didn’t know what the future held, but at that moment, I knew that God held me.

As parents, we’re entrusted with nurturing and guiding our children while navigating our own wonderings about faith. Life’s demands often make it challenging to tend to our souls and our family’s flourishing.

We can embrace the fantastic, messy, holy mysteries of faith in every season.

This fall, consider taking some time to reflect:

Why is there peace in knowing we can’t fathom the mysteries of God?
Why do you think people (especially adults) have such a hard time saying, “I don’t know”?
Have you ever shared your doubts and wonderings with God or with someone you trust? What happened?
What can the fall season teach us about God’s mysteries?

Borrow this prayer:

O God of mystery, hear our prayer. Comfort us in our doubts. Give us peace when we don’t know what comes next. We know our lives are but a vapor, but we also know that in the mist, You are there.

Help us to live into the mystery of a life of faith. Let us embrace the beauty in the unknowing. Give our family the courage to admit what we do not know and faith to trust You with our questions.

In our wondering and in our wandering, we believe in what we cannot see. Amen.

May God lead you and your family into rhythms of grace this fall – and in all the seasons to come.

Adapted from Every Season Sacred by Kayla Craig. Copyright © 2023. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, a Division of Tyndale House Ministries. All rights reserved.

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Every Season Sacred: Reflections, Prayers, and Invitations to Nourish Your Soul and Nurture Your Family Throughout the Years by Kayla Craig is a weekly invitation for parents to ask big questions, embrace faithful rhythms, and experience God’s mysterious, loving presence together. Every week, Every Season Sacred includes:

Honest & hopeful devotions for every season of the parenting journey
Encouragement to parent with intention & imagination, presence & purpose
Open-ended conversation questions & discussion prompts
Thoughtful prayers to borrow throughout the year.

With tender curiosity and contemplative wisdom, Kayla blends thoughtful musings and practical resources to meet parents right where they are. Whether you’re parenting a toddler or a teen, this family resource is one to turn to all year long as you journey through fall, winter, spring, and summer. You might want to grab a few copies of this beautiful, nuanced hardcover book as gifts to have on hand!

Great news! Kayla is gifting her preorder bundle to (in)courage readers with no purchase required! Visit this exclusive page to get immediate access to 100 family conversation cards, a booklet of daily prayers, a curated fall playlist, and instant access to the book’s first chapters.

AND more great news… we’re giving away five copies of Every Season Sacred!

Just leave a comment about your favorite season or rhythm, and you’re entered to win*.

Tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend as Kayla Craig and Becky Keife have a vulnerable and delightful conversation about Every Season Sacred!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm Central on 9/26/23.

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

How Parenting from a Place of Rest Transformed Our Home into a Haven of Peace

September 21, 2023 by (in)courage

As a homeschooling parent, my days are often a whirlwind of activity, filled to the brim with lesson plans, extracurricular activities, and endless attempts at optimizing every second of our day.

It’s what we, as mothers, are told to do.

I had read countless articles by well-intentioned mothers, each offering tips on maximizing our morning routines and squeezing productivity into every nook and cranny of our schedule. I followed their advice with noble aspirations; I wanted to provide my children with the best education, the most enriching experiences, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

However, reality often fell short of my ambitious goals.

Despite my relentless efforts, my kids often dragged their heels through our meticulously planned days, accomplishing little, and I found myself drowning in frustration. The to-do lists grew, but our sense of accomplishment shrank, and the toll it took on all of us was undeniable. Meltdowns became a regular occurrence – not just from my kids but from me, too.

It was during one of those moments of exasperation that a revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning.

The exhausting cycle of packed days, stressed-out kids, and emotional meltdowns was not going to change until rest became a central factor in our lives.

I needed to pivot, to transform the way I approached parenting.

My realization came one day as I was reading Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (NIV).

Jesus’ words struck a chord deep within me. His invitation to find rest in Him was a reminder that in the midst of my family’s hectic life, He is our source of calm and renewal. But even more so, it was a wake-up call for me to pursue slow, unhurried living within our family.

Since that day on my living room couch with my Bible in hand, when my world felt rocked to its core, our family has made some big changes.

For example, in our home we now have:

Morning Rituals: We begin the day slowly and when everyone is ready. We come together for family prayer and read a short Scripture passage to set a calm tone.
Simplified Scheduling: I have more of a skeleton list of to-do’s, prioritizing quality over quantity in activities and lessons to reduce rush and stress.
Outdoor Exploration: When the weather permits, we spend time in nature as a family, going on slow walks, hikes, or picnics. Surprisingly, it’s while we’re outdoors that I have some of the most meaningful conversations and connections with my kids.
Quiet Times: We have daily quiet times where everyone can read, color, or simply enjoy moments of solitude. This has been a game changer for us, and we all feel rejuvenated afterward.
Unplanned Moments: I’m naturally Type A and a planner, but I’ve learned to embrace unstructured, spontaneous moments as a family, allowing time for play and creativity.

Taking to heart Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28 extended far beyond the weariness of my individual soul; they became a healing balm over the fatigue of our home and the pressures of our daily lives.

Choosing the path of slow, unhurried living, I watched in awe as Jesus transformed our home into a haven of peace.

Now (for the most part), the relentless rush of the world is left at the doorstep, and tranquility has taken its place. My kids still complain at times or don’t want to do schoolwork. But I now respond to them from a place of rest, and with the aim of maintaining our home as a sanctuary where stress and anxiety find no foothold.

When our homes become havens of rest, we shed the burdens of busyness and constant striving, discovering a deeper connection with ourselves and with one another. It’s in the unhurried moments that we truly see and hear one another, building bonds that withstand the test of time.

When we parent from a place of rest, we also grow spiritually. We model a life of rest for our children, teaching them not only the value of unhurried living but also the spiritual benefits of drawing near to God for refuge and renewal.

My prayer for you today is that your home can become a haven of peace as well, for your days to be characterized by unhurried moments, and for you to experience the richest blessings and the abiding presence of God’s grace.

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

The Secret to Being Everything and Everywhere All at Once

September 20, 2023 by Rachel Marie Kang

I have a superpower, a secret strength that I call on when I am deep in the mire of monotony and the mundane, when I am desperate for deliverance from my ordinary life.

I make myself disappear by way of daydreaming. At a moment’s notice, I can leave life’s mere moments — the middle of car rides, the middle of meals, the middle of my son asking one million brilliant questions. I do it all the time. Even did it this week. In the middle of my son asking me a question, I retracted from reality and retreated into the recesses of my mind.

Where I could breathe . . . where I could press pause on all that presses and pretend to be someone other than me. Where I could leave behind my ordinary life — its gaping wounds, its worries, its woes.

When I disappear like this, my body is present but I’m mentally absent. In my thoughts, I mull over my ordinary life . . . pitting it against all my high and lofty dreams. To be a singer. To travel the world and visit exotic places. I dream some more and imagine myself hiking Yosemite, then catching a taxi in New York City. Then, again, dreams flash fast across the expanse of my mind. I’m a ballet dancer. I’m teaching children in South America. I’m an artist in a concrete studio. I’m a tourist in Paris.

I live into my dreams and cast myself into the countless possibilities panning across my mind. When I am jolted back to reality, I want to cry. But I can’t . . . because my children need to see that I am here, and my husband needs to know that I am happy, that there’s no place I’d rather be.

If I’m honest? It feels scary and raw to admit these things, to spill them out on the screen where you’ll scroll and read and respond to them. Because the last thing I want is to be told to appreciate my life or to be thankful and content. I’m not sure I need anyone telling me what I already know and believe to be true — that I really can’t escape my life. That I can’t be all the things I ever dreamed of being.

What I want, though, and what I need is for someone to tell me that God sees all of these infinite possibilities for the way my life could have panned out — the corporate career I almost had, the places I once called home, the dreams I cradled and, sometimes, still carry.

What I want, and what we all most desperately need, is for God to tell us that He sees deep down into our hearts. That He sees all our multifaceted passions and all of our divergent desires — all the daydreams, longings, and nuanced layers of loss.

It’s true — sometimes our tendency to daydream is really just a desperate attempt to replay the scripts of all our secret longings. All of which matter to God, even if they don’t ever come to fruition. So what if we let these replays become prayers? What if we let them become pleas, invitations to ask God to help us make peace with all that swells in and around us?

In the middle of our daydreaming, what if we dared ask God to reach in deep into our hearts and remind us that He sees the many ways we pine and strive to be and do all? What if we took our broken dreams and desires to escape our ordinary lives and turned to the only One who can be all, know all, and do all?

God is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent — knowing everything and being everywhere are His superpowers and His alone. He is everything we need and He is available to us everywhere, even all at once.

In this, we can rest assured: we’re not missing out on anything. We’ve not been handed a second-best life. There’s not some better, prettier, stronger, smarter, richer, freer version of ourselves floating around out there in an undiscovered multiverse.

The only secret to being everything and everywhere all at once is realizing that, only in Christ, will we ever be satisfied and fulfilled. Only in Him will we experience the greatest depth and width and height of life. Only in Him can we be everything we were ever created to be.

It’s no secret and it’s no superpower.

To be with Him is to be everywhere we ever need to be.

To be known by Him is to see we are everything we ever need to be.

How about you? What are your multifaceted passions and daydreams? How can you open your heart to believe that God sees all of what you wish for and all of who you are?

Practice peace, purpose, and being present to your life through soulful prompts and prayers with Rachel’s book, Let There Be Art.

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

Your Mind Is Full of Whatever You Fill It With

September 19, 2023 by (in)courage

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—His good, pleasing, and perfect will.”
Romans 12:2 NIV

Our minds often feel cluttered, overwhelmed, and unclear about who we are, what we’re here to do, and how to navigate the day-to-day moments of life. When this happens, it means that our mind is usually full — full of worry, doubt, fear, and uncertainty. The quality of our thought life is largely the litmus test for how we’re really doing and what we really believe about ourselves, others, our circumstances, our future, and our standing with God. Almost instinctively, we tend to look at what’s wrong instead of seeing what’s wonderful.

So, how do we shift from a mind bogged down and steeped in anxiety to a mind that is joyful, optimistic, secure, and courageous? The answer: mindfulness.

Mindfulness simply means to be aware of something. And awareness is at the heart of abiding, which— using our working definition—means “to live in a state of expectancy.” If you’re in a state of worry, that means you’re expecting something to go wrong. You’re actually residing in doubt and choosing to find refuge in fear. However, Jesus showed us how to abide in peace by centering His life, words, and work around mindfulness with God. Everything else flowed from Him being constantly filled with expectancy about God’s goodness.

Our mind is full of whatever we fill it with. The good news is that we can choose to fill it with the goodness of God. This is the reason for tracking your Daily Blessings and committing to seek out everyday goodness. Choosing to see life through the lens of appreciation, affirmation, and gratitude (instead of lack and loss) is how we renew our minds to align with the Holy Spirit. It’s how we learn to see that God really is always with us. This awareness . . . this intentional discipline of holy mindfulness . . . is how we learn to abide.

Because we’re rarely taught how to abide and just told that we should, this concept can end up fostering more stress and confusion. Don’t let that happen here! Abiding is really simple. Breathe that in and embrace this truth for a moment. Abiding is simple, and it’s designed to be enjoyable. It’s not a to-do list or get-it-right type of thing. It only requires one thing: that you be intentional. Understand that abiding isn’t random. It’s specific. It’s consciously choosing to enter and remain in the secret place of God (a promised space with only your name on it) for the purpose of receiving, resting, and resetting.

This also happens when we speak (declaratively) the language of God. Our words reset our world. You see, the brain is an organ, but the mind is an organization. Renewing your mind allows the presence of God to reset and reorganize your thinking (and speaking) so the Holy Spirit can recalibrate every aspect of your life. Our minds are the bridge to seeing either blessings or burdens. Mindfulness enables us to abide.

Lord, thank You for the gift of wisdom. I know You love to give wisdom freely and lavishly. Equip me to see the way You see. As I enter Your presence, renew my mind. I submit every stubborn and misaligned thought to Your Holy recalibration. As I abide in You, help me to think like You. Amen.

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The greatest weapon blocking what God is building in your life is worry. As an ambitious woman daring to believe bigger about who you are and what Heaven has for you, you have much on your mind. Dreams, goals, responsibilities, mission-building, and a to-do list that never ends. Our mental stress can cause our eyes to default to what is wrong or missing versus seeing what God is sending. In her new book, Daily Blessings: A Mindfulness Journal on the Goodness of God, Reinvention Strategist Marshawn Evans Daniels shows how the practice of appreciation and affirmation invites you to exchange overwhelm, self-doubt, perfectionism, and distrust for a spirit-led, limitless mindset. You will see how God’s love moves Heaven and Earth for you every single day and in every single way.

Daily Blessings has a ten-week intentional framework structured to help you practice appreciation and affirmation. Each week is based around one of The Ten Dimensions of Abiding. You’ll kick off each week with (1) an overarching anchor Scripture, (2) a master devotional reading, (3) a mindfulness centering called “Let’s Abide”, and (4) guided Prayer Moxie. You can revisit the kick-off message for the pillar you are in each day if you like. You’ll likely notice that the passage will spark something new each time. Additionally, each day is broken into two phases: Phase One is Morning Gratitude, and Phase Two is Evening Appreciation and Affirmation. This Daily Blessings journal is your daily invitation to abide in the goodness of God.

**Pick up your copy of Daily Blessings: A Mindfulness Journal on the Goodness of God… and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!**

Then tune in this weekend to the (in)courage podcast as Marshawn talks with Becky Keife about the Daily Blessings Journal! You won’t want to miss this POWERFUL conversation!

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

*The giveaway is open to U.S. addresses only and closes on 9/25/23 at 11:59 pm central.

What Sunflowers Taught Me About Friendship

September 18, 2023 by Kathi Lipp

When Hurricane Hillary blew through Southern California, I stood back and prayed. We live in the mountains of Northern California, so except for praying for our friends and their neighbors who lived down south, we assumed we would be utterly unaffected by the storm.

But as we watched the weather reports, we realized that not only were we going to get thunder that required our dog to be on a constant stream of anti-anxiety medication, but there was going to be rain and wind enough to wreak havoc around our mini-homestead.

So we reinforced the chicken coop and brought in some of the equipment we didn’t want to get wet. Then I caught my husband, Roger, standing on a ladder, attempting to tie our sunflowers together. (Because that’s what you want to see as thunder and lightning come rolling in — your husband standing on a metal ladder in the middle of your garden.)

But here’s what you have to understand: These were not your average sunflowers. When I bought the seed packets months before, I wasn’t paying attention to the type of sunflowers I was getting.

When they named these “Mammoth Sunflowers,” they weren’t kidding. These yellow beauties have grown to fifteen feet and show no signs of stopping. I cannot tell you how much joy we’ve received from these flowers. I’ll be in the middle of a call with a client and find myself staring out the window at these majestic giants. And I’ve caught Roger more than once glancing out the kitchen window with a big smile on his face.

The amount of happiness we’ve sown from a two-dollar pack of seeds almost feels like cheating nature. That is, at least, until Hillary blew through.

We wanted to do our best to give these joy-bringers the best chance at survival.

I wasn’t worried about the smaller sunflowers and other flowers and vegetables that were protected by our garden fence. I knew they were enclosed and would ride out the storm just fine. But these giant sunflowers, which had grown ten feet beyond the garden fence, were the most at risk.

That’s something I’ve noticed often — it’s my friends and the people I love who are growing beyond their safe places and bringing so much joy to others who are often most susceptible to being hurt. The ones who are serving the most are the ones who are risking the most.

And what is the cure for that — to stay safe? To not grow beyond the expectations of others?

No.

It’s to find the other people who are growing and serving and loving and hang out with them.

It is to lean on those friends who are also venturing outside the safe zone.

“Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.”
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 NIV

If you are in a season of growing, doing things beyond others’ expectations, beyond the safety of what you are “supposed” to be doing, that will make you vulnerable when the storm comes.

My strategy when I’m taking risks is to hang out with others who are doing the same. We can support each other and hold each other up.

If you are in that risk-taking season, I’m guessing you’re also supporting others who are doing the same. Can I suggest a few practical steps?

Remind your friends, and yourself, that what you are doing is brave. Most people rarely grow beyond the garden fence. Taking risks is an act of courage and you are to be celebrated, and so are your friends. My friend, Susy, whom I consider my hype woman (and I hope I am the same for her), gives me words of encouragement, puts together celebration bags, and reminds me that even when I fail, I’m just clear-cutting a path for the next time I try.
Feed that friend. About the holiest thing you can do when someone is in a battle is feed them. If they live nearby, take them food. If they live far away, send them Starbucks gift cards. Both are acts of service.
Remember that everyone gets to succeed. My husband and I are a great team because we are too busy fighting side by side to fight with each other. We keep each other standing because that’s what you do with people who are by your side.

Oh, and our sunflowers? The ones Roger tied together? They survived. It was not the same story for the ones he didn’t get to support each other.

And that? Is a lesson for us all.

Want to learn more about Kathi’s red house in the mountains? Click here to check out Kathi’s new book, The Accidental Homesteader.

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

My Story Is Bigger Than My Hair

September 18, 2023 by April Kidwell

Beautifully decorated tables waited for guests. Men in black pants and white dress shirts filled water glasses. Hostesses rushed about completing duties before the Ladies’ Tea began. Women milled about in lovely spring dresses. Women from all walks of life. All stages of life. Women everywhere. More than a hundred wonderful women prepared to worship in song, listen to a message of hope, and converse with others over a cup of tea.

My heart skipped a beat. Thudded.

There’s always been a secret voice in my head when I walk into a room filled with women. Will I fit in? Did I wear the right clothes? What will they think of me?

This time, though, it was different. When I walked into that room filled with women, I didn’t just see faces. I didn’t just pay attention to what they wore. Their voices did not register.

I saw their hair. Every single person in the room. Natural colors of gray, brown, blonde and red. Streaks of blue or purple. Highlights and lowlights. Long, short, feathered, styled, chaotic, gorgeous hair. No hats. No scarves. No shaved heads. Except for me.

Because, my lovely, long hair had succumbed to the razor soon after chemo started.

Several months had passed, and the rest of my hair fell out. In many ways, it was my new norm. But the tumultuous feelings remained. With every pass of the clippers, a part of me fell away. I’d spent a lifetime figuring out who I was: a child of God, writer, creative, teacher, wife, mother. But the one label I couldn’t fathom, the one thing I couldn’t wrap my mind around, was “cancer patient.” I no longer looked like me. Let alone felt like me. My world had imploded. Seemingly, everything of value—everything that made me, me—was contingent on what the world could see.

With the loss of my hair, I lost my identity.

Too many times, I’ve let the world tell me I wasn’t good enough. Like, the fellow kindergartner on the playground who called me fat. Or, my ballet teacher who compared me to an elephant. Even those whispers behind my back from the girls in the “in” crowd. Then, when the outside voices stopped, my inner critic took up the gauntlet.

I felt unworthy because I didn’t have expensive clothes. I felt I did not deserve respect because I never rose to the top of my field. With my cancer diagnosis, I fell deeper into this way of thinking. It felt as though my very existence held no value because I could not work or complete basic household tasks, Some days, I couldn’t even walk unaided.

In that big room with beautifully decorated tables, I finally learned to strain my sight . . . until I saw faces, and not just hair. I saw friends, acquaintances, and Bible study partners. I saw women who brought meals to me when I was sick . . . women who had fought battles of their own — battles of loss, illness, disappointment, discrimination and hopelessness. I saw wonderful hearts who wanted to love and serve the Lord. Not a single face, not a single head of hair, told their full story.

Suddenly, as I saw these women, I wondered: Where were women with short hair. Was that by choice? Or were they further along on their cancer journey? Were any of them wearing wigs? But, the truth is, I couldn’t tell. I realized I could not hope to know their story, simply by looking at them. And neither could they could not know mine. My hair loss represented all those times I tried to fit in—to make myself valuable—and failed. The image I wanted to create for myself did not hold up against the heart-whole identity God wanted for me. It wasn’t about the hairs on my head—or lack thereof—it was about what was in my heart.

What was in my heart? Disillusionment. Anger. Fear. Comparison. But also empathy, love, and courage. A desire to help others. A longing to grow closer to Him. Sanctification through Jesus’ love for me. I’m so much more than what the world sees. I am—you are—we are the beloved chosen of God. His creation. He knows our hearts.

Our identities are not contingent on how the world sees us. Not in our efforts. Not in our failings or successes. Not how we dress, style our hair, or even the things we accomplish during the day. We need not be anything more than who God created us to be.

He sculpts our identity as a reflection of His. A woman of joy and pain. A woman with fears and courage. A woman of God.

When I think of that season of baldness . . . when I remember that what I see is not the entire story … I find comfort in knowing I’m not the sole creator of my identity. Instead, I rely on someone infinitely more wise than I could ever hope to be.

I am His masterpiece — we are His masterpieces.

Uniquely created in His image . . . for His purpose!

The Thing That Really Matters as a Woman

September 17, 2023 by (in)courage

Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;
but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.
Provers 31:30 NLT

We are constantly bombarded by ads for for the latest and greatest, most effective, must-have beauty serum and anti-aging cream. We’re told beauty is found in a bottle and it’s worth whatever the cost may be. The world tells us that pursuing beauty and charm will have the biggest payoff for our lives, relationships, careers, self-esteem. Be the prettiest, fittest, best girl-boss, do-it-all mom and then you’ll have the life you always dreamed of. Defy aging and you’ll be praised by society.

There’s nothing wrong with being beautiful. The Creator Himself deemed us fearfully and wonderfully made. He delights in His creation. Indeed, we are His masterpiece!

But outward beauty is not the mark of a praiseworthy life. Our bodies were made to age, but our fear of God was meant to praised. Fearing the Lord means living with a holy awe of reverence for who He is. Fearing the Lord means surrendering our lives to the only One who is worthy of our praise and trusting His good and perfect will. Now that is something to commit to no matter the cost.

So if you’re looking in the mirror today sister and see your beauty fading, take heart! Your worth is so much deeper than your skin.

Hope in the Middle of the Storm

September 16, 2023 by (in)courage

As evening came, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.” So they took Jesus in the boat and started out, leaving the crowds behind (although other boats followed). But soon a fierce storm came up. High waves were breaking into the boat, and it began to fill with water. Jesus was sleeping at the back of the boat with his head on a cushion. The disciples woke him up, shouting, “Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?” When Jesus woke up, he rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Silence! Be still!” Suddenly the wind stopped, and there was a great calm.
Mark 4:35-39 (NLT)

The story of Jesus calming the storm is told in three of the four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Each account describes a trip across the lake after a long day of teaching. Jesus — who was fully God yet also fully human — was understandably tired and took a nap. While He was sleeping, a great storm blew in. Just as the waves threatened to overwhelm the boat, fear threatened to overwhelm the disciples.

We often react the same way, don’t we? We can become overwhelmed by external circumstances (relationship troubles, job loss, debt, too many demands on our time, parenting, caring for elderly parents) or by internal conditions (fear, anxiety, depression, anger, resentment). And when it feels like the winds of those overwhelming storms might knock us down for good, we frequently find ourselves looking around frantically. Can anyone help me? Does anyone notice what’s going on here? Who’s in charge? Where is God in all this?

We can become so overwhelmed with fear or pain that we lash out, looking for anything to stop the storm. We might begin to seek solutions or solace from anyone or anything that offers a substitute for real hope or help. We turn to Google or Facebook, a punishing workout, or a numbing drink. All the while, God is holding us in His hand. He isn’t asleep, and He hasn’t forgotten about us — even when in our panic we’ve forgotten about Him.

Like the disciples in the boat with Jesus, we desperately need hope when life is overwhelming and we’re tempted to panic and forget what’s true. But while we’re all going to falter in our faith at times, it’s what we do next that counts. Will we spiral deeper into panic and doubt? Or will we acknowledge God’s presence and power and turn our focus back to Him?

In Mark 4:39, to stop a raging storm, Jesus utters just three words: “Silence! Be still!” These words echo Psalm 46, which begins with a familiar declaration of hope: “God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble” (v. 1 NLT). Toward the end of that psalm, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God!” (v. 10 NLT). We see a similar command even earlier, in the book of Exodus. As Moses attempts to calm and reassure the Israelites during their escape from Egypt, he says, “The Lord will fight for you, and you must be quiet” (Exodus 14:14). Other translations of that verse say you must “remain calm” or “keep still.”

When we read these passages together, a clear picture is formed of a God who can win wars and calm storms with a single word. So even though our life may feel like pure chaos as we juggle (and drop) balls in our attempt to manage everything on our own, He is not just offering us a lifeline. He is our lifeline. He is our rope of hope when we are overwhelmed, showing us again and again that He is our best and only hope.

This devotion is written by Mary Carver, adapted from Create in Me a Heart of Hope .

True or False: You need hope today.

No matter who you are or what you’re going through, we all need the kind of hope that lasts, hope that strengthens and sustains us, hope we get offer to others (because when they see our lives, they’re going to want it!).

This is exactly what you’ll discover in the Create in Me a Heart of Hope Bible study! We’d love to give you a FREE WEEK to get started! SIGN UP HERE.

For When You Find Yourself Asking God, “How Much Longer?”

September 15, 2023 by Kaitlyn Bouchillon

“How much longer?” the small voice asks from the car seat, barely fifteen minutes into an eight-hour drive with extended family. I smile at my toddler cousin, but after the fifth or sixth time, I realize: This is the very thing I’ve been asking God. Maybe you’ve wondered this, too?

Day after day after day. Prayer after prayer after prayer.

We collectively stand in grocery lines and sit in uncomfortable chairs at Urgent Care. We listen to elevator music while we’re placed on hold and submit resumes as the bank account dwindles. We wait and pray. We wait and hope. We wait and wonder, “How much longer, God, until You heal what’s broken? How much longer until there’s a diagnosis, a baby, a restored relationship, a job, a way through the seemingly impossible?”

It isn’t that we don’t trust God’s goodness and sovereignty. We’re strapped in, seat belts buckled, certain that God will bring us all the way Home. We know the storm won’t be the end of the story, but, well, we wonder exactly how long the storm will rage.

Or, at least I do.

I often think about how it’s a gift that many stories in Scripture are familiar to me. I’ve heard the names since childhood and can usually recall bullet points or at least a few details. But there’s a danger: I forget the timeline. I forget just how long these real people sat in metaphorical “waiting rooms.”

Noah didn’t build the ark overnight. It took many years before the project was complete and rain fell for the first time.

Sarah and Abraham longed for a child, and for decades they received disappointment month after month after month.

Joseph was seventeen when his brothers sold him into slavery; he spent years in prison and was nearly forty when his family arrived in Egypt during the famine.

Moses fled Egypt and lived in Midian for forty years before he saw the burning bush.

The Israelites wandered in circles, walking laps around in the wilderness for forty years.

David waited many years between being anointed as king and sitting on the throne.

The people of God waited 400 seemingly silent years between Malachi and Matthew, longing to hear a word from the Lord.

Jesus waited thirty years before beginning His public ministry.

There are plenty of times things changed in an instant, but waiting, it seems, is woven throughout Scripture.

I think of this as I walk through an outdoor labyrinth in my city. The summer sun beats down, warming the carefully arranged stone pavers. I begin, slow and steady, and quickly realize that I can’t look too far ahead. The entire path is clear from above but from where I stand the view is limited. I blink back tears as it weaves in and out, nearing the center only to curve out once again, and I say out loud in the empty garden, “This is what it feels like right now, God. Each step brings me closer, but I’m literally wandering in circles here. All I can do is take the next step, trusting the path will lead where it has promised but not knowing what it will bring along the way or how long it will take.”

Of course, I’m talking about more than a narrow path underneath my feet. There are waiting rooms I’ve been in for so long now that I know every piece of art on the wall, every chair that wobbles, every crinkle and crease of old magazines stacked on the side table. More than a decade has passed and I’m still here, still praying and believing, trusting and weeping, asking and hoping. Still waiting.

Step after step after step. Lap after lap after lap.

What I want is a miracle — and instead, I receive just enough strength to carry through the day. I keep praying for power that heals and restores — and He gives grace that sustains. It feels like manna, like exactly enough for today and no more. Nothing extra, nothing in the reserves, no stockpile set aside for a rainy day, a long night, or a winter that endures.

But always, manna.

“How much longer until XYZ?” I wonder, knowing the path is clear from above. “I won’t leave your side. I’ll be there every step of the way,” God seems to whisper in the wind, the leaves swaying with the afternoon breeze. It’s not the answer I’m asking for, but it’s the promise I need. And miraculously it turns out to be no less of a miracle, the grace that sustains when winter endures.⁣

Manna after manna after manna. Mercy after mercy after mercy.

Looking back, fingerprints of His faithfulness mark every page. God was there then and He’s here now, with us in every waiting room, working for our good and His glory. Remembering God’s past faithfulness helps us hold tightly to joy in the present and hope for the future. That doesn’t eliminate our questions, but it reminds us of the story beneath the story: it won’t be long now until winter permanently gives way to resurrection.

One day “how much longer” will be no longer.

One day, everything will be colored the shade of restoration.

But for today, we hope. We pray “on earth as it is in heaven.” We remember that God will not be rushed, but neither will He be late. We wait and we trust and we find that it’s true: God really is going to carry us through.

If you’re asking “How much longer?” and you’d like more encouragement for the waiting room seasons, Kaitlyn’s book Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between will help you choose hope for tomorrow when today feels like a question mark.

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

God Hears and Is Near When Your Heart Is Heavy

September 14, 2023 by Twyla Franz

Sometimes, news hits like a gut punch, right smack in the normal hubbub of dancers switching classes and dance moms chatting in the lobby. Sometimes, in an instant, everything changes and falls far from normal.

You try to keep your voice chipper because she’s already cried enough tears, and you’ll let yours come later. But your voice still cracks and wavers because the heaviness of life-will-never-be-the-same-again is a lot.

In the coming weeks, you’ll hold both what you know and what you don’t yet know in the open palms of your hands. You’ll pray on your knees and with your face pressed to the floor. You’ll accidentally smudge the lyrics of that worship song that you wrote in the margins of Psalm 139, because you can’t turn down the volume of grief.

Even then, you’re not ready for the crushing details when there’s a re-diagnosis. Late one night, you hold your cell phone to your ear with one hand and, with the other, you’ll press a pen to a torn paper towel, outlining bleak snippets.

The next morning, you turn on “Worthy of It All” . . . that song you play on repeat. You place your Bible (opened to Psalm 139:8-11) next to the paper towel scribbled over with your notes. You read aloud through the chapter. You’ll insert their name and read those dear words like a prayer:

If she goes up to heaven, you’re there.
If she goes down to the realm of the dead, you’re there too.
If she flies with wings into the shining dawn, you’re there.
If she flies into the radiant sunset, you’re there waiting.
Wherever she — all of us — go, your hand will guide us; your strength will empower us.
It’s impossible to disappear from you or ask the darkness to hide us, for your presence is everywhere, bringing light into our night.

As you pray, sing your favorite worship song on repeat, and recite Scripture, you begin to feel anchored to the unchanging truth that God is good . . . nevertheless. You begin to remember that He is kind, compassionate, and present — whether the healing comes on this side of heaven or not.

He’s the sort of God who finds us there on the raw edge of all that splinters and dead-weights; the sort of God who sits with us in our pain. And though our bodies are frail and hearts are busted, His promises never waver, never break.

He is the Hope-Light in the dead of night. The Gentle Guide of tender, aching hearts. The One waiting, listening, embracing us at every turn.

If you were to pull old journals off shelves and out of boxes, you’d find records of prayers big and little answered. Not always with a yes, but with an assurance that God hears and is near.

As a kid praying about things like misplaced cell phones, retainers, and return tickets home, you couldn’t see how the practice of praying in the “now” would teach you that God can always be trusted. Through it all, you’ve learned to go to Him quickly with all your thin hopes and insistent worries, knowing that everything that matters to you weighs on His heart too. You’ve learned you have His full attention and affection. That, God holds back none of His raging love for us, no matter how He answers.

As a college student, spending countless hours with open Bible and face pressed to the carpet, you couldn’t yet see how you’d need the things that crack you wide open to remember you know God differently on your knees. But now you see the gift in seasons of stretched-out waiting, urgent praying, and good things breaking. Because grace is in the things that make you seek Him . . . and you finally see this whole time, He’s been teaching you to treasure His presence over answered prayers.

God’s goodness is steady through every bend and valley. He’s with us in the miracles and the sunrises bursting wild through dark clouds. He’s also near in the grief and groan that makes the space between heaven and earth paper thin.

Indeed, He hears . . . and He is near when your heart is heavy.

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

The Thing You’ve Got to Know When Your Motivation Is Waning

September 13, 2023 by Lucretia Berry

Last night I hardly slept. I was haunted by the heaviness of insecurity and anxiety. My thoughts hastened from disappointment, “I wish I earned more money,” to doubt, “Did I somehow miss God along this path? Did I veer right when God was leading me left?” Answers and clarity did not come in the night’s darkness. I tossed and turned, anxious to be rescued by the light of day. But also, I was exhausted and needed a good night’s sleep. As you can imagine, as the sun rose to greet me, I retreated, burying myself beneath my comforter.

Aching from the wet blanket of a night, my body could not be motivated to move. I just wanted to lay in bed and take a personal day from being me. I wanted to quit — quit my purpose, quit my rationale for being here, quit my raison d’etre. I wanted to conjure up a different purpose – one that feels more simplistic and affable – a purpose that doesn’t ask me to be the administrative assistant and personal Uber for three brilliant and talented children and their two cute Aussiedoodles, while designing and teaching a high school elective on anti-racism, leading a nonprofit, writing encouraging blogs, publishing books, consulting with schools, coaching executives, and managing menopause! I love all the things that I get to do (except for menopause). But in the darkest hours of the night, I longed to be a highly-paid IT professional who gets to work a thirty-hour week and leaves all her company cares at the office when she goes home to her family who has nowhere important to be.

As I got ready for school after my sleepless night, I fought to sense God’s tangible presence. I wanted to feel motivated. I prayed, Today, I don’t have it in me. God, You’re going to have to show up for me.

Walking through the school lobby on the way to my classroom, I paused to read the whiteboard, intentionally positioned to grab the attention of passers-by. A handwritten quote read:

“Don’t expect to be motivated every day to get out there and make things happen. You won’t be. Don’t count on motivation. Count on discipline.” – Jocko Willink

In a world that constantly preaches the gospel of motivation, I sometimes find myself seeking that fleeting feeling of enthusiasm and inspiration to propel me in my purpose. I look for external factors to ignite the fire within, to keep me going when the journey gets tough. For example, I often wonder if earning a lot more money would make me feel validated and stimulated. But God’s divine purpose calls me to a different standard — one that transcends the whims of emotion and taps into the wellspring of unwavering determination.

The apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, speaks about pressing on toward the goal. This pressing implies a continuous effort, regardless of external circumstances or internal fluctuations of motivation.

It’s easy to start with a burst of enthusiasm, but what happens when that initial fervor begins to wane? This is where discipline steps in. Discipline is the steady anchor that keeps us rooted in our purpose, even when the winds of doubt and weariness try to sway us.

When we understand that our purpose is not contingent on fleeting feelings but is a divine calling, we can appreciate the importance of cultivating discipline.

In Philippians 3:14, Paul encourages us to press on toward the goal of winning the prize for which God has called us. Notice that it’s God who has called us to this purpose. It’s a calling that’s uniquely designed for us, tailored to our strengths, talents, and experiences. This realization strengthens our resolve and reminds us that quitting isn’t an option. Only we are designed to fulfill this purpose, and quitting would mean leaving a void that no one else can fill.

Consider the story of Nehemiah. He faced incredible challenges while rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem. He encountered external opposition, internal doubts, and the temptation to give up. However, he recognized the importance of his role in fulfilling God’s purpose. Despite the weighty difficulties, he pressed on with unwavering discipline. And because he didn’t allow his motivation to determine his commitment, the walls were rebuilt!

Tonight, as our heads hit the pillow, let’s remember that motivation may ebb and flow, but purpose remains constant. Let’s embrace the truth that we are uniquely designed for our purpose, and quitting is not an option. God can help us cultivate the discipline needed to get out of bed and fulfill His given purpose. Just as Paul pressed on and Nehemiah persisted, may we too stand firm in our resolve to fulfill our purpose, regardless of how we feel.

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

How Eavesdropping Changed the Way I Live (the way we all should live)

September 12, 2023 by Becky Keife

We withhold our friendship until we know whether we will get along or if they always wear that much perfume. Have you ever been guilty of judging someone by a first impression? Maybe even assigning value based on their surface appearance? Gulp. I have. And if you’re honest, I’m guessing you’re not exempt either.

It’s not that every person needs to be a BFF or trusted confidant or an intimate part of our lives. But every person does deserve to be respected and treated with kindness. So rather than leading with subtle scrutiny and secret judgment, what if we made acceptance our default? What would happen if we automatically saw the new guy at work or the woman behind us at church, the family that just moved in next door, or the parent standing alone on the soccer sidelines as a welcomed new friend? What would happen if we treated every “new kid” (young or old ) as wanted, welcomed, delighted in?

Sit with that for a minute.

Often, when we think of encouragement, we think of building up, complimenting, or supporting the people already intertwined in our lives — our spouse or sibling, child or parent, coworker or best friend. That is so good and beautiful and necessary. But at its core, encouragement stems from the basic acknowledgment that every person deserves to be seen, valued, and accepted. So it’s not just the kind words we say, but the welcome that we live.

Here’s the great news: We can all be encouragers wherever we are, wherever we go! We can invite the new parent at the PTA meeting to sit next to us. We can hold the door for the mom whose arms are full of groceries and babies. We can smile wide and say hello to the neighbor who speaks a different language. We can leave a little potted plant on the new girl’s desk at work with a sticky note that says, “Welcome to the team. I’m here if you need anything.” We can acknowledge someone we cross paths with today, look them in the eye, and tell them we’re so glad they’re here.

After dropping Jude off, I walked back across the blacktop, through the freshly cut grass, and out the rear school gate with a smile stretched across my face. Two six-year-olds were simple difference makers — not only to the new students they welcomed but to me — a thirty-something woman who merely overheard their kindness was impacted. And now the ripple extends to you as I share their story. The students at Cullen Elementary School were there to learn, yet able to teach so much.

May the learning (and jump-for-joy encouraging welcome) continue with us.

This article is an adapted excerpt from Becky’s book The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact. Snag a copy for more heartwarming stories and practical ways to live a life of kindness and encouragement every day.

“Now may the God who gives endurance and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another, according to Christ Jesus, so that you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ with one mind and one voice. Therefore welcome one another, just as Christ also welcomed you, to the glory of God.”
Romans 15:5-7 CSB

September 12th is National Day of Encouragement, a day set aside to bring encouragement to others. As a valued member of the (in)courage and DaySpring community, we know you share encouragement all year round – thank you! We want to help you be ready to cheer on others not only on the National Day of Encouragement, but on any day.

Celebrate this fun day with us all month long; place an order at DaySpring.com and you’ll receive an exclusive National Day of Encouragement greeting card for free! The card includes a QR code to a FREE Bible reading plan as well. Spread God’s love with DaySpring’s selection of encouraging products and join us in celebrating the National Day of Encouragement!

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

The God of All Comfort Remembers Our Pain

September 11, 2023 by (in)courage

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (CSB)

As we remember those we lost on this day twenty-two years ago, let’s sit in these words from 2 Corinthians. The Father of mercies and the God of all comfort is with us. He has not forgotten our grief nor the pain that continues to linger from the aftermath of tragedy.

And as we are comforted by Him, may we offer the same tenderness to others today.

Please join us for a moment of silence today in remembrance of every victim, loved one, and first responder impacted by the September 11th attacks.

Listen to today’s brief devotion at the player below, or wherever you stream podcasts.

This Is Hard to Do, But We Can Do Hard Things

September 10, 2023 by (in)courage

Do everything without complaining and arguing, so that no one can criticize you. Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people. Hold firmly to the word of life; then, on the day of Christ’s return, I will be proud that I did not run the race in vain and that my work was not useless.
Philippians 2:14-16 NLT

We live in a culture of complaining. It’s normal (even expected) for everyone to complain about how tired and overworked they are. It’s common for wives to complain about their husbands and children, single people to complain about dating, widows and empty-nesters to complain about being alone. When it’s cold we complain about the cold; when it’s hot we grumble that it’s too hot. So often the weather is never right, circumstances could always be better, and the grass is seemingly lush and green everywhere but beneath our own two feet.

We also live in a culture of arguing. From politicians at every level to professional athletes in the middle of a game, from school board meetings to social media comment threads — the shouting and name calling is deafening. We live under the assumption that the louder you are and more talking points you have, the better chance you have to win the argument (and isn’t coming out on top no matter the cost the point of it all? or so culture screams).

This isn’t new information.

But it’s worth stating because the contrast to our call as Christians is glaring.

Paul exhorts the Philippians with words we desperately need two-thousand years later: “Do everything without complaining and arguing . . . Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights in a world full of crooked and perverse people.”

The way of culture is not the way of Christ.

The constant flood of arguments and complaints have settled over us like dark, relentless clouds. This is why God wants us to live another way! So we can shine like bright lights! So our lives can point others to the light of Christ.

So how do we break free from the patterns of culture? “Hold firmly to the word of life.”

God’s Word is the only thing that can truly light our paths and tame our tongues — for our good and His glory.

The Real Hero of Every Story

September 9, 2023 by (in)courage

Then the word of the Lord came to him: “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. I have directed a widow there to supply you with food.”So he went to Zarephath. When he came to the town gate, a widow was there gathering sticks. He called to her and asked, “Would you bring me a little water in a jar so I may have a drink?” As she was going to get it, he called, “And bring me, please, a piece of bread.”

“As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread — only a handful of flour in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it — and die.”

Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son. For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.’”

She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family. For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.
1 Kings 17:8-16

Have you ever felt at the end of your rope, like all hope was lost? Like if God didn’t intervene ASAP, you weren’t going to make it? No doubt that’s how the widow felt. She was ready to fix a final meal for herself and her son and then just give up.

But what does Elijah say to her after hearing about her dire situation? “Don’t be afraid” (v. 13). It’s not an emotional putdown, but a call to courage.

The assurance of God’s presence and His power working on our behalf is why we can be courageous. Both Elijah and the widow were unable to provide for their own needs. So not only was God inviting the widow into a moment of courageous kindness, but He was asking the same of Elijah.

The economy of God is a strange and miraculous thing. The more you give, the more you receive. The more you pour out, the more He fills you up. Elijah was fed by ravens, the widow’s final provisions were multiplied beyond reason, and her little boy was brought back to life.

It’s tempting to read a story like this and focus on the obvious characters. Elijah showed up at the widow’s home and asked for a loaf of bread. The widow dipped her hands into the jars of flour and oil and formed the ingredients into loaves. Elijah took the lifeless boy from the widow’s arms and cried out to God for his life. Elijah and the widow both showed courage, but they are not the heroes of the story — for it was God’s power on display!

Friend, living the simple difference and choosing a life of courageous kindness doesn’t happen by our own strength but by God’s strength in us. We start where we are, give what we have, and God does the rest — more than we could ever expect.

God, thank You for again reminding me that You are compassionate, gracious, slow to anger, and full of loving kindness. I acknowledge my great need for You. I offer my life — all that I have and all that I am — for Your glory. Use me to show someone else Your kindness this week. Amen.

This devotion is from our Bible Study Courageous Kindness: Live the Simple Difference Right Where You Are, written by Becky Keife and featuring stories from our (in)courage contributors. We’re pretty convinced that Courageous Kindness will empower us to change the world — one simple, intentional act of kindness at a time. Get a free week and learn more about the Courageous Kindness Bible study!

When Following Our Creator Invites Us to Something More

September 8, 2023 by Grace P. Cho

We talk about quarter-life and mid-life crises, sometimes as a joke, other times to name our realities, but what do we do when we can’t name the shifts happening within us? How do we find our way through to the other side when we don’t know how to release the restlessness and tensions we feel inside, especially when we don’t know where we’ll end up when things settle down? The internal, invisible shake-up makes me feel like a snow globe in the curious hands of a toddler.

For much of my life, I subscribed to the narrative that to live out your calling with purpose you must find the one thing you’re good at, the one thing you’re passionate about, and you go after it with your whole heart. We’ve all been made with gifts and talents, so the advice was to dedicate our time, energy, and life to that one thing, and over the long haul, it would be called faithfulness.

For me, leadership has always been my thing. It’s a combination of natural gifting, childhood realities as a pastor/missionary’s kid, and my personality. I’ve mostly flexed this muscle in the church, leading ministries, small groups, and Bible studies. I’ve taught and led youth and college students, peers, and even adults older than me. People have long told me I was a wise, old soul, so it made sense that leadership was what I was made for. Even now, without any official ministry titles, it’s still the thing I do best.

I almost can’t help it. If I sense a need, I’m there to fill it. If people need guidance, I’m ready to give it. It’s an intuition I can’t shut off. But these days, I wonder if my strength is the very thing blocking me from growing deeper in my connection to God, others, and myself. Or put more honestly, I wonder if I’m using it to avoid connecting more intimately with God, others, and myself.

By default, I know how to be a leader and a helper. I know when to listen well and when to offer wisdom. I know how to envision a ministry, organize an event, and execute ideas. I know how to be a support and cheerleader for everyone around me. What I don’t know so much is who I am apart from what I can offer others. What joys do I experience if it’s not about helping people? What would I create if I created for fun and not only for the benefit of others? What more would I discover about the depth of friendship and community if I learned to be truly vulnerable so I could be known just as much as I seek to know others?

It would be easier and more comfortable to keep operating in my strengths and live on automatic drive. I think I would still live an impactful life if I did. But as I’m spending time sitting with God as Creator, the story of Creation is giving me a more expansive view of what life was intended to be from the beginning. In imagining it like a child, I see how impossibilities became realities – light from spoken word, physical bodies from dust and breath, every weird and amazing creature made from love. When I take off my grown-up reading glasses and enter into the story like a kid, it’s full of wonder and gasps and clapping with delight.

And in this season of shifts, God’s inviting me to be like a child, to discover what’s possible, and to become like Him in creating beauty, life, and goodness.

And if you, and not only I, said yes to the invitation to be like our Creator and create flourishing, joy, and delight in our little corners of the world, I’d like to believe that together we could hold open the curtain for the kingdom to come through. Perhaps, faith would flicker on in our weary, cynical hearts, and we’d believe again that impossible things can change, that callings and purposes can shift, and that it can all be good even still.

I don’t know exactly what saying yes to this invitation will look like for me, but for now, it means saying goodbye first. For the last five and a half years I’ve had the privilege of being a part of the (in)courage community and our writing team. I’ve loved working behind the scenes, editing my fellow contributors’ words, writing books with them, and creating a space for you, our readers, to feel seen and known. It has meant so much to me to witness God’s faithfulness in this space, and I’m ending my time here with deep gratitude.

So, may we all pay attention to the shifts within us. Perhaps God is inviting us to something more or different or new, and whether we whisper it quietly to ourselves or say it out loud for all to hear, I hope we can respond with our whole hearts, “Yes.”