The Thing We Love Most

The Thing We Love Most

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Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality.
Romans 12:11-13 (MSG)

There is nothing we love more at (in)courage than clinging to God’s truth together and praying for one another.

Today, we invite you to do three things:

  1. Share a verse in the comments that is encouraging your heart.
  2. Leave a prayer request.
  3. Pray for one or more of the women who commented above you.

“I mean this. When two of you get together on anything at all on earth and make a prayer of it, my Father in heaven goes into action. And when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.”
Matthew 18:19-20

For the One Carrying a Broken Hallelujah This Mother’s Day

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No one that was there that day knew I was grieving more than the death of my mother.

No one present at her funeral knew I was broken in the grief of losing her, and also shattered by the reality that I had coincidently lost my faith, too. It felt like the foundation of who I was and what I believed had been stolen right from me — gone.

There was no warning, and if there had been, I’m not sure I would have even recognized it. I was in disbelief of the last breaths I witnessed when my mother passed and in confusion for the future that now stood in front of me.

It’s a harsh reality, a broken hallelujah, sitting with the loss of your mother and also the loss of your faith. It’s a loneliness that you cannot describe and one you truly cannot comprehend until you’re sitting with it, encompassed like a new skin, a new version of you that you never asked for . . . one that, in fact, you despise.

The loss of my mother came over time, a fatal diagnosis, though never truly expected. The loss of my faith came sudden and without any kind of indication of what was to come, of what was dissipating.  

The raw truth is that I was angry with God. I was bewildered and hurt by His will for the life of my mother — a life that didn’t last as long as we’d envisioned. I felt betrayed and I felt abandoned. I felt alone. I felt weak. Then I felt ashamed for thinking and feeling all of those things.

In desperate longing, I thought of my mother — a woman with unwavering strength, even when her body was frail and failing. I wanted that strength. I wanted her courage and her resiliency. I wondered where she got it and how she kept it. I wondered what the source of her strength was so that I could find it too. And then the truth of those questions came, and it was undeniable.

Faith was her strength.

If I wanted her strength, I had to have her faith too. I had to remember His promises and His love. I had to remember His plan for the brokenhearted. If I wanted to heal, if I wanted grit, if I wanted to survive the heartbreak, I’d need my faith more than ever. I’d need Him. 

In the doubt, in the low valleys, in the devastation and the despair, I need to hold tight to my faith and ask God for His help, grace, and guidance.  

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.
Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV

Upon this realization, I vulnerably wept in front of Him. Yes, broken and afraid, but also acknowledging all that I’d ever been taught about Him and His ways. I stopped trying to comprehend my loss and grief, and instead resolved to trust that while some things are incomprehensible, that doesn’t mean they’re not survivable.  

  • When we feel lonely, we are not.  
  • When we feel abandoned, we are not.
  • When we feel betrayed or forgotten, we are not.
  • When our faith feels as if it has been lost, it’s only being refined.

When we are in our lowest valleys, our darkest days, it is He who rescues us.

For, He is here . . . always. By our side like an invisible friend — guiding us, lifting us, reminding us of all of the beauty that remains, even in the midst of our sorrows.

It turns out that on a day where I thought I had lost two of the most meaningful aspects of my life, I’d really lost neither. For my faith and my mother coincide together, with Him — and that has been and will always be my strength.

A Mother’s Love: For Us and From Us All

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We are the moms who hug, dance, and snuggle. We are the moms who get overwhelmed, whose snarls sometimes come easier than our smiles. We are the moms who live in the push-pull of exhaustion and joy, in the tumultuous world of feelings and giving all of ourselves.

We are the moms who pray our children will fly while a tiny part of our heart grieves their flight from us, because we are the moms who love those children with every fiber of our being. We’re not sure where they end and we begin, but we know we didn’t begin until they arrived.

We are the moms who work around the clock in a million different ways. Praying. Cooking. Cleaning up. Carpooling to school and dropping off at daycare. Guiding. Loving, always loving. Scolding and worrying. Kissing boo-boos and wiping tears. Breathing deep, in and out, over and over. Chasing their feet and their hearts. Answering emails in the middle of the night. Pulling them back and drawing them in and sending them out. Scrubbing toilets and remembering details and packing lunches and signing papers and pouring out.

We are the moms who love children we didn’t birth. We are the neighbors, aunties, sisters, friends, and church grandmas who love these kids as though they’re our own. We snuggle up to beloved little ones during the sermon at church and pass them hard candies to squelch the wiggles. We attend birthday parties and graduations and weddings, bearing gifts for these dear hearts, setting up tables and making food, and then cleaning up at the end of the day. We rock little babies and help big kids pack for college, tearing up at the thought of them driving away. We light up when our phone dings with a text from a precious high schooler. We read stories and sing songs and carefully choose cards to pop in the mail for every holiday.

We are the moms who haven’t had a night out in ages, and who crave one like oxygen. Who run on grace and caffeine. Who build a meal off of the scraps pilfered from kids’ plates. Who go through more coffee shop drive-thrus than we care to admit. Who are exhausted from being “on” all day at work, and coming home to be “on” longer still.

We are the moms who drive through McDonald’s for milk because we ran out and just cannot drag ourselves into the actual grocery store. Who pay for a latte in change dug out from between the minivan seats. Who cannot make it to church without bickering with our family on the drive. Who are consistently seven minutes late to every appointment. Who perpetually lose socks to the washing machine, and have been known to purchase new underwear instead of washing the pairs we already own. Who take our alone time seriously and guard it fiercely — just like we do our kids.

We are the moms who long for more. More grace. More patience. More coffee. More time (always more time). More space in home and heart. More money. More sleep. More Christ in us. More life in our days. More quiet.

At the same time, we are the moms who long for less. Less laundry. Less fighting. Less yelling. Less clutter. Less selfishness. Less guilt. Less busy. Less stuff. Less dust. Less hustle.

We are the moms who sit in the hallway in tears during bedtime, drained. The moms who sit in empty houses in tears because there are no more babies to tuck in at bedtime. We are the moms who ache for those we’ve lost, for those we’ve wanted, for those we’ve asked for, for those we’ve begged God about and bruised our knees over in earnest prayer. For the babies we couldn’t carry. For the children we’ve lost to heaven and red tape. For the grown children we couldn’t hold on to as they flew our coop to make their lives. For waywards and prodigals and could’ve-beens.

We love this life even when we don’t like it. We love these kids with all of our beings — even when we may not like them very much. We thank God for the gift of love He gives in the form of sticky hands, flown coops, late nights, early mornings, birthday celebrations, cards in the mail, trips to see each other, texts sent, calls placed, and prayers whispered.

We are these moms, and God is for us all.

As Mother’s Day approaches, we know that it is a complex day full of many emotions and experiences. Know that at (in)courage, we are praying for each of you in this season as you remember, celebrate, grieve, or enjoy motherhood and what it means to you. Every single woman who loves, encourages, and nurtures those who become part of the next generation is doing amazing work and is to be celebrated.

Above is an excerpt from our book, A Mother’s Love: Celebrating Every Kind of Mom by Anna E. Rendell, which is full of reflections on God’s heart. Featuring unique and diverse stories from the (in)courage community, A Mother’s Love offers heartfelt encouragement to all kinds of moms, whether they’re a mother in a traditional sense, a spiritual mother, or a mother-like figure who breaks the mold. This book is sure to help any woman share a meaningful gift with someone who has been impactful in her life, a new mom learning the ropes, or a close loved one facing the joys and challenges of any stage and type of motherhood.

Compiled with all women in mind so we can celebrate those who made us, shaped us, helped us grow, and loved us well, A Mother’s Love is a beautiful gift for the moms in your life.

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or wherever you stream podcasts. (And be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss a single one!)

The Right Words at the Right Time

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Despite my extroverted tendencies and sometimes bubbly nature, I’m a fairly quiet person. I often sit back and observe people. I’m contemplating and analyzing and even over-analyzing. I’m not quick to speak and offer my thoughts and opinions.

So, needless to say, when I do speak, I’ve put much thought into what I want to say and how I want to say it. I’m not perfect, but, I do try my best to be strategic in my conversations. I try not to be careless or haphazard with my words.

I’m also a deep feeler. I don’t necessarily communicate what I’m feeling, but I feel everything. I even have feelings about my feelings. It can be a lot. When I was younger, I was labeled as easily offended and thought I was. As I have matured, I’ve come to realize that is not necessarily the case. I notice and discern much of what is said and unsaid. It’s how the Lord has wired me. It’s what makes me a good friend, counselor, and coach.

Recently, I was with a friend who I find completely hilarious. She is naturally funny. Much of her humor consists of sarcasm, imitations, and mostly well-meaning jabs at people she comes across during her days. She jokes with me all of the time. I laugh and joke back. It’s usually all good. But this time, I posed a question and her response came as a blow. It was actually a comment she had made about me before, but on this particular day, it hurt.

It sent me into a bit of a mental tailspin. My thoughts began a downward spiral into questioning my motives (even though I knew they were genuine).

When I’m in those situations, I can’t speak. I can’t address anything in the moment. I can’t resolve the misunderstanding. I need time alone to process, to assess the whole situation. And for me, that process takes quite some time.

Encounters like these always cause me to reassess the words I speak and the tone I use. Again, I am nowhere near perfect. I fail often. But, I don’t want to. I want my words to be the words of God.

Numerous verses focus on our tongues and the power our words carry. Sadly, it’s often not until we are on the receiving end of something hurtful that we stop to take inventory of our own speech. That is when we have a choice to make: to be intentional or not.

The Book of Proverbs is a literal wealth of wisdom. In it, we are reminded that life and death reside in the tongue. We are reminded that it can be wise to stay silent. Our words are to be truthful. Our words are to be healing.

I’ve been in a hard season filled with several losses, from friendships to deaths. Uncertainties and doubts have been surfacing. This wilderness has left me wandering and feeling far from God. I’ve desperately needed clarity, direction, and hope. I’ve needed to hear His voice above the barrage of other voices.

Fast forward a few days after the hurtful comment, and I was able to attend two multi-church gatherings. I worshipped, prayed, and believed God would meet me and speak to me. And speak to me, He did.

At both events, there were opportunities to be prayed over, and I took advantage. The women who prayed for me truly heard from the Lord. They spoke words of life and hope and healing. Their words were filled with grace and promises. They were a sweet honeycomb to this weary soul, as described in Proverbs 16.

I needed to be reminded of God’s truth that my finite mind so easily forgets. I needed my gaze to be redirected to the Savior who gave His life for me.

I needed to feel seen by the God who sees those who feel unseen.

First Thessalonians 5:11 reminds us to “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up as you are already doing” (CSB).

This is what I experienced through each of those women. I was encouraged and built up in my faith. This is our calling as believers. We are to weigh our words carefully and release them even more so.

When we weigh our words and release them in His timing, Jesus breathes Proverbs 15:23 into action. Joy and goodness are abundant in the timely Word of the Lord. His Word is guaranteed not to return void. It ALWAYS accomplishes the work it was set forth to accomplish. There is fruit and much fruit that is produced. It is a blessing that remains.

I know the words prayed over me were the right words at the right time. I’m grateful for how God loves us intentionally and intimately. He knows what we need, how we need it, and when we need it.

I’d love for you to share your stories of how God has spoken the right words into your life at just the right time!

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

One Thing to Help in Moments of Panic and Anxiety

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I get to my seat and it’s a window because I like to see what’s going on outside. I put my bag under the seat, send a few last text messages before I have to go into airplane mode, and buckle my seatbelt. My airpods are in, music is going, and we start to taxi to the runway. As we increase our speed, I take a few deep breaths because there’s one thing I know: I want to be on the ground.

There once was a time when I would fly at least once a month; one year, I flew over 35,000 miles. Sometimes it was work, other times it was visiting my family on the other side of the country or attending a wedding. Either way, the miles added up and you’d think that my tolerance for the stresses of travel would be nice and high. You would, however, be wrong.

I’m one of those people who has panic attacks. So a flight can’t just be a time to watch movies and write in my journal or take a nap. No, my body goes into a full-on panic if we start to encounter turbulence.

I get a fight-or-flight jolt whenever a plane begins to shake.

Some things happened early in my life that left me with the inability to know when something is safe or unsafe. I can certainly know it in my head, but my body is another story entirely. My body is regularly trying to figure out if something is a threat and because of this, my pulse will rise without me running sprints or doing jumping jacks or hiking a mountain. I know that my body is trying to help me, but sometimes it makes me feel pretty helpless.

It’s easy to not feel a lot of grace when you are in the middle of trying to survive what feels like an overwhelming and never-ending cycle of fear.

I’ve tried just about everything that I can think to do and have met with therapists over the years, but when I try to slow my breathing or do exercises to get back into my right mind again, all I can think is that I need help because of my panic and it somehow makes it worse. A few years ago, however, I discovered something that helps in my moments of anxiety: I just let it happen.

I have spent so many years trying to control the outcome of these experiences and one day I decided to see what would happen if I just allowed my pulse to rise and had grace for the fact that my breathing was changing. I accepted the fact that I was probably going to cry in front of strangers and reached into my backpack to grab a holding cross I keep for comfort. It’s a little wooden cross that has smooth edges and is easy to grasp and I move it around between my fingers, reminding myself that Jesus is with me even in this. It is not a moment of tranquility or instant resolve. My grip on the cross usually involves white knuckles.

But as I have started to allow my helplessness to stay, it reminds me of my hopefulness that Jesus also stays. In the Bible, He is given the nickname Emmanuel, which means God with us. He very easily could have seen us in our mess and decided to snap His fingers and resolve all of our problems, but our God is relational, so He decided to roll up His sleeves and come to us. And because His character never changes, He’s still doing that today.

When I panic, He is not rolling his eyes — He is rolling up His sleeves.

Jesus rolls up His sleeves, He packs His carry-on, goes through security, and sits next to me on airplanes while I try to make it through to landing. And He does not disappear once my moment of need has passed. Instead, I am reminded in my moment of need that He was always there to begin with.

And He will always be there to the very end. And beyond it.

Jesus meets us when we are facing deep heartache or going on a first date or doing the dishes or making impossible parenting decisions. He is present when we are feeling the most confident and He is present when we are the most terrified. And perhaps this is the greatest gift to me in my panic: I remember my Prince of Peace, who does not always take away the struggle I am facing, but He certainly sits with me in it.

And when we land, He walks with me to baggage claim.

Listen to today’s devotion below or search (in)courage podcast on your favorite app.

 

It’s Time to Redefine Helper in a Biblical Marriage

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There was a time when I wore my ability to keep on working even when others couldn’t or wouldn’t as a badge of pride.

This was especially true as a busy mom. I had a long list of places I wanted to give my time and attention, because I believed my help — my busyness — was the only valuable thing I had to give.

My favorite compliment during that time was, “I don’t know how she does it.”

How did I do it? By being resentful, mad, and exhausted.

The tendency to let others take advantage of my willingness to help even seeped into my marriage. Not only was I expected to manage the lion’s share of the kid duties, but also all the cleaning, meal prep, shopping, laundry, and any extras that popped up. My role, or so it seemed to my husband and I, was supposed to be my joy.

Oh, my husband had tasks as well. But while the length of our lists may have been equal, the impact of those duties was a complete mismatch.

My list looked like this:

  • Meals
  • Laundry
  • Dishes
  • Managing kid’s schedules

While my husband’s list contained these tasks:

  • Mowing the lawn
  • Getting the car’s oil changed
  • Cleaning the gutters
  • Filling the cars with gas

While we both had lists, the lists were not equal because my tasks carried a heavier mental load and things that had to be done regularly. (If I only cooked dinner or washed laundry as often as my husband changed the oil and cleared the gutters, that would be a problem.) 

“Mental load” has become a popular phrase over the past several years, and it is an apt descriptor of what it takes to keep a home running.

For example, mental load takes into account not just the actual activity (getting your child to a birthday party), but all of the other tasks that precede the event:

  1. RSVPing
  2. Shopping for a gift
  3. Pulling together a cute outfit for my child to wear
  4. Making sure the child is clean
  5. Checking to make sure that cute outfit still fits
  6. Wrapping the gift
  7. Having my child sign the birthday card

This example might seem minor, but it illustrates all the unseen, unnoticed, and unappreciated to-dos, so our household doesn’t run off the rails.

As someone who speaks and writes on decluttering, I teach women how to get more done and help each other out, and those are both great. However, I needed to start by admitting that my expectations did not line up with reality or a biblical view of marriage.

As a result, I found no joy in my role as wife and mother. Only exhaustion and resentment.

Why was I the only one who saw the invisible work left undone? Why was so much left up to me?

Years later, when I got remarried and went from two kids to four, I knew this household could not run like my last one; if it did,  bitterness, resentment, and anger would just pop up again.

I had been taught that God created Eve as a “helper” for Adam (Genesis 2:18). But what I had not been taught was that the word “helper” in Hebrew (ezer) does not imply subordination but rather a partnership. In fact, ezer is the same noun used in Psalm 33:20 to describe God as “our help and our shield.”

When you start to see yourself as not just someone who makes life work for others, but as a partner to create the kind of life you both want? Everything changes.

No one is over the other; rather, we treat each other as cherished children of God.

Here are three ways Roger and I follow God’s leading for a partnership:

  1. We each do the tasks we are naturally better at but help each other out. I am more of a list maker, organizer kind of person, but Roger is more of a long-term planner. While I still manage most of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry, Roger makes sure I’m never alone in those tasks. He unloads the dishes every night, carries the laundry up and down the stairs, and lugs all the groceries from the car. While Roger handles most of the finances, I deal with our medical claims and reimbursements. Neither of us feels alone because the other one is always right there alongside. We are each other’s helpers.
  2. We don’t keep score. A couple of times a year, Roger is crazy busy at work and at church where he serves on the tech team. During those weeks, everything at the house is completely up to me. When I’m on a book deadline, Roger keeps the laundry going, cooks meals, and makes sure we have clean dishes. At least three times a day, I ask Roger if he needs anything, and he probably asks me the same question five times a day.
  3. We agree on what needs to be done and work together until it’s finished. Sure, there are some tasks each of us prioritizes. But what’s important to him is important to me because he is important to me and vice versa. So while he may not “get” my burning desire to organize the pantry, he works with me because he knows it’s important to me.

Here’s the thing: I’m still a busy woman. But in my busyness, I no longer feel alone or taken advantage of. Now, instead of making sure everyone’s life around me works, I have a partner who works with me so we can both be the best God has called us to be.

Want to learn more about Roger and Kathi’s partnership at the Red House? Click here to check out Kathi’s book, The Accidental Homesteader.

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

 

Princesses and Real People: The Unseen Burdens We All Carry

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Propped on pillows, scrolling on my phone took all the energy my feverish body could muster. Nothing but my red nose, frizzy bedhead, and blooms of tissue scattered on my sheets kept me company.

The digital world would have to do.

Perhaps sensing my desperation to see anything other than my messy bedroom turned sick ward, the social media algorithms started showing me photo after photo of stunning vistas, gorgeous charcuterie boards, and — my personal favorite — beautiful outfits worn by an actual modern-day princess.

 I wonder how much those heels cost, I mused as my feet were still in the mismatched socks from the day before. How does she get those cascading curls so perfect? I thought as I touched my matted hair. Look how well-behaved her kids are, I lamented as I heard my brood wreaking havoc in the living room below.

It’s so easy to imagine that the small glimpses we see of another’s life are the whole of the story.

The truth is, no matter how perfectly coiffed someone may be, there’s more to their lives than the snapshot we see.

Just because it’s invisible doesn’t mean someone else’s heavy load doesn’t exist.

All the money, power, beauty, and prestige in the world can’t protect us from being unfailingly, irrevocably human.

There is no one among us who hasn’t tasted loneliness, who hasn’t held sadness in their hands like wadded-up tissue.

It’s easy for us to imagine that no one else has or will hold the burdens that we do. It’s so natural that I’m not even sure we realize we’re doing it.

The “grass is greener” mentality seeps into our souls – and it’s exacerbated by the countless photos we mindlessly scroll through. It spills over into phrases we utter under our breath, like, Why does this always happen to me? Or Why can’t I be more put together like her?

This way of thinking doesn’t just dehumanize others, but it hurts us too. We sell ourselves the lie that we’re the only ones struggling or grieving. That we’re the only ones who are navigating a broken relationship or an awful health diagnosis. 

We must stay tender to the humanity of others – this is the pathway to empathy, the road to compassion that we’re called to as people of faith.

During those hazy days of my bedroom quarantine, I wrote stories in my mind about the seemingly perfect lives of the people in the pictures I scrolled by.

My joints were achy; my head was pounding. I was on a deadline to finish my book manuscript, but my head was too stuffy even to write my editor a short email to tell her I was sick.

I ached to transport into my phone and be a princess, far away from dirty laundry, mounting deadlines, rambunctious kids, and saltine cracker crumbs hidden in my bedsheets.

Nothing bad ever happens to her, I mumbled as I coveted another $395 pair of the most perfect high heels she probably only wore once.

Slowly but surely, I could drink more than ginger ale. I showered and put on clothes that weren’t sweatpants. I blow-dried my hair for the first time in forever. I felt like a human again! I cracked open the windows and inhaled fresh air.

I entered back into my fantastic, dirty, messy, holy life.

I left my phone on the nightstand.

A couple of years passed.

Then, seemingly overnight, the whole world became captivated by the same princess who kept me company when I was sick.

Everyone was thinking about her, talking about her, writing about her. No one could stop.

Back into my algorithm she went. As I stood in the slowest possible grocery store line (again), I began to get sucked into the gossip, too. 

We all soon found out that she was carrying her own heavy burdens – serious ones like cancer and chemotherapy. 

It’s a tale as old as time – nobody is living in a storybook happily ever after, no matter how charming and shiny their life may seem on the outside. 

We see this in the ancient story of Esther. From the outside looking in, she had it all. She was deemed the most beautiful and named queen. I can imagine the gossip surrounding her. 

Why does she look so sad sometimes? She has the perfect life! Can you imagine how much that necklace cost? Must be nice living such an extravagant lifestyle! Did you hear that she has SEVEN personal palace maids? I’m barely making ends meet, and she gets custom beauty treatments and a personal chef?

But there was more to Esther. She held the trauma of losing both of her parents at an early age. She was part of a marginalized community. She had to conceal who she really was, hiding her family, nationality, and racial background.

Have you ever had to hide part of yourself?

It’s an unbearable, invisible burden.

I wonder if any of the folks who were whispering about her ever stopped to wonder if they were dehumanizing her – and, in turn, themselves – with their gossip.

We don’t have to know all the burdens someone else carries to hold their humanity with care. When we honor the humanity of another, we give ourselves permission to be human, too. When we can zoom out of our realities, we gain a truer perspective of what it means to be in this world.

Yes, privilege is real.

No, most of us are not royalty.

But we are all human.

As people who follow Jesus’s example, we have access to a well of compassion that won’t run dry. We can be slower to speak lies to ourselves and slower to create fairy tales about others.

We can love our neighbors – the poorest among us and those in palaces – as we love ourselves. When we are gentle with ourselves, the wildest thing happens: we become more compassionate toward others, too.

We are carrying heavy burdens, this is true. But we aren’t the only ones. Thanks be to God, we do not bear our burdens alone.

As for me, I’ll be working on not comparing my sick days to royal coronations. 

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

 

The Grace of the Upside-Down Kingdom

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“The point is this: The person who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the person who sows generously will also reap generously. Each person should do as he has decided in his heart — not reluctantly or out of compulsion, since God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make every grace overflow to you, so that in every way, always having everything you need, you may excel in every good work.“
2 Corinthians 9:6-8 CSB

Generosity and provision in the kingdom of God don’t make sense. From our perspective, there’s always an end. Things run out, whether that’s finances, energy, or time. It seems that if we give too much, if we invest too much, we may not get the same in return or we may even burn out.

But God’s kingdom is an upside-down kingdom. As the passage says, He is able to make every grace overflow to you. It won’t come from striving or hustling, but it will flow from the Father down to you and then to those around you. 

You will never be without what you need to live out your purpose in His kingdom. 

We can sow generously, give generously, because the overflow of God’s provision never ends. Let’s be cheerful givers because of the grace we’ve abundantly been given by our God.

God Remains With Us Through Every Hard and Holy Moment

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There was a thick, burnt orange line painted across the hospital tiles.

That line, that final threshold, is the point of separation where parents part from their children as the nurses wheel their beds into the operating room. I found myself grasping for ways to ground myself as my feet pivoted. The wall was blue. The sign above was red. My daughter, my daughter. Orange. Orange. Orange.

It was a battle to stay in my body without collapsing; to force my feet to go in the opposite direction, away from that place of departure. As I lifted my gaze from the floor, I almost lost it again. Because the processional of beds accompanied by parents and nurses stretched several children back. The child right behind my daughter couldn’t have been more than a month old, his chest rising and falling. I noticed his parent’s countenance matching my own and, after briefly observing the families similarly lined up behind ours, I couldn’t help but see this shared journey as a parade of sorts.  

When families go through medical traumas, there is often not so much a crisis of faith as there is a crisis of theology. What is true about God now? How do I even pray? How is it possible that God is good while my child or parent or friend is suffering?

I am a caregiving mother to four medically fragile kids, and I am a seminary student training to be a hospital chaplain. Over the years, I’ve tried it all. I’ve wrestled, wailed, and wept until I didn’t have any more tears. I say all of this to say that there is not a pretty sounding, logical answer to any of these questions. Suffering — the effects of sin in the world and amongst creation — throws a wrench in our surface-level ideal of what faith is supposed to be and who God is to those who suffer.  

Still, the image seared into my mind — of the parade of children rolling down the hallway — not only painted a poignant trinitarian picture: a suffering child, their loving parent, and the comforting nurse that wouldn’t leave the child’s side, but also an eschatological one. Jesus’ teachings in Mark 9-10 — in which He foretells his own suffering and pronounces a grand reversal — are centered on welcoming children.

But many who are first will be last, and last, first.
Mark 10:31 NASB

And when I think about Jesus’ words, in Matthew 25, that set the stage for this promised, future grand reversal, I can’t help but ponder how such a gathering of all the nations could likely include a royal processional that isn’t led by the powerful or influential . . . but by the last and least. A parade that elevates these medically vulnerable children to their rightful place of honor, prominence, and belonging with the King, a sure contrast to that place of pain that lay on the other side of the orange line.  

God’s heart and purpose is for the vulnerable. God champions their flourishing and belonging. The totality of scripture is a testament to this. And when I, along with so many other families, am navigating medical traumas in real time — sifting through what is real and what isn’t, what is true about God and what isn’t — I know that God’s love for those who suffer is good news.

God’s love for the vulnerable is good news to the vulnerable.  

While my faith may oscillate and waver, God’s faithfulness doesn’t. God is faithful to be who He says He is. God’s love is faithful. While this world gravitates towards either exploiting suffering image bearers, ostracizing them, or avoiding them entirely, Jesus not only promises to honor them fully — affirming their dignity and belonging in advance — but He aligns Himself with those who suffer, over and over.  

If God-with-us is who God is, and God-with-us-in-suffering is who God is, then I don’t need a fluffy answer, or a proof-texted verse ripped out of context. The person and work of Jesus is enough, with or without answers. With or with out faith that is any larger than a mustard seed.  

In those long hours while my daughter was in the operating room, I prayed in the hospital garden. I let creation remind me the truth about our Creator. I marveled at the trumpet-shaped yellow flowers and the way the dew glistened on long blades of grass. I can’t explain it, but God was with me. His peace was ever-present.

I know He was with my daughter, too. God remains with us through every hard and holy moment, offering comfort and carrying us through. And while many might say that the absence of suffering is more desirable than the presence of God in the midst of suffering, I have to disagree.

In suffering, God reveals the secret places of His heart to the people who need Him most. It is a treasure to allow ourselves to be comforted by a loving God who promises goodness and doesn’t leave us.

There is no orange line with God. No point of separation. And, one day, all of the orange lines — all separation, all suffering — will be gone forever.  

When Your Heart Says No But Your Mouth Says Yes

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I speed-walked down the hallway at church, late for a steering committee meeting for our church moms group.

And that’s when the gal caught me in her crosshairs and asked me for the sixth or seventh time,

“Hey Kristen, did you decide if you’d like to join the Bible study I’m hosting next month?”

I wanted to be annoyed at her persistence, but in all fairness, she’d asked for the sixth or seventh time because I’d told her five or six times I’d think about it. I pondered her phrasing… like to join the Bible study? Well, yes, I’d definitely like to. The problem was that my schedule already bulged at the seams. Like a bookshelf crammed with books, I knew I didn’t have room to shoehorn one more thing onto it.

At the same time, I knew this gal wanted more folks to join her study. Another thought snaked through my mind: Kristen, you should be doing Bible study, so you should fit it into your schedule. 

Finally, my inner critic won out. I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, “Oh yeah… sure! Count me in!”

After she relayed the details, I told her I looked forward to seeing her there. Then, I headed toward my meeting, taking note of my slower gait and slumped shoulders.

That was a year my husband traveled so much that he was gone more than home. With three young children and several volunteer responsibilities, I knew  I’d made the wrong decision about the Bible study.

My slumped shoulders and continual hesitation that followed my yes to joining were the outward signs of what the Holy Spirit spoke to me on the inside: Kristen, ignore that wretched inner critic and listen to Me. My direction lightens loads, hence why You know this should be a no.

Yet, while my heart said no, my mouth said yes.

I’ve always loved Matthew 5:37 that says, “But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’” In context, this verse is one where Jesus instructs us to not swear falsely or to say we’re going to do something and then not do it. My three adult kids would tell you that in their growing-up years, they heard this verse a thousand times. When a brother, for example, promises early in the day to play with his sister and then tries to get out of it later in the day, he’s behaving as if his yes is really a no.   

I certainly want to follow through on what I say I’m going to do for others. But I also realized that regarding this Bible study, I was behaving like my no was a yes. I appreciate it when other people interact honestly with me regarding what they are and aren’t able to do, so why wouldn’t I do the same with myself, for myself?

I knew exactly why. In this case, a yes eased my uncomfortable feelings about not wanting to disappoint the host.

Not long ago, my pastor’s wife, Karen, said, “Jesus disappointed people.” Her words tasted like crisp, cool relief as the reality of that statement settled in my heart. You see, if I rack ‘n stack all the reasons why I struggle to say no, the fact that I hate disappointing people would be at the tippy top of the list. I didn’t want to disappoint the kind woman leading that Bible study then, and I’ve hated disappointing (or the idea of disappointing) a hundred women since. And yet, the reality is that if Jesus disappointed people, which He certainly did, then lowly Kristen will disappoint people, too.

I needed to be comfortable with the idea that disappointing people is not only unavoidable, it’s often the right yes. It’s not a sign that the one doing the disappointing is wrong. If I’m doing what the Holy Spirit genuinely calls me to do, then it’s important to walk that decision through, come what may.

A yes to one thing always means a no to something else. In this case, my yes to the study would cause me extra stress, which in turn would cause my family to pay the price for my extra stress. Since I had committed to participating in rather than leading the study, I felt like I had permission to change my mind. That’s not always possible, but here it was.

A couple of days later, I found the woman hosting the study and told her, “I’m so sorry, but I won’t be able to participate in your group Bible study after all. I would love to, but after considering my schedule more closely, I just don’t have the bandwidth for it right now. I sure apologize that I didn’t come to this realization sooner.”

She was disappointed, but she understood and said it was no problem. I exhaled, noticing how my shoulders relaxed.

In the words of my friend, Kim, a no hurts a little when it’s given, but the wrong yes hurts a lot more later. So, we say no to good things in one season to say yes to best things.

Whether a yes or a no, I’m learning there is strength and peace in letting my heart and mouth say the same thing for the benefit of following God’s will…

…and not disappointing myself.

Listen to today’s podcast episode below or on your favorite player. 

It’s Okay to Embrace Your Weird

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When I was a little girl, my favorite thing to hear was that I was weird. Whether the words came affectionately from the lips of my mom or as a critical observation from the kid across the street, I didn’t care. “You’re so weird” made me beam — because I was weird.

I was a girl who happily (and confidently) marched to the beat of my own unrhythmic drum.

When I was seven years old, the year was 1989, and neon green biker shorts with a black polka dot skirt with a fluorescent pink tank top was my favorite outfit. But I took the typical bright 80’s color scheme to my own Becky level. I was sure to complement my outfit with my beloved canvas dinosaur sneakers that I got in the boys’ section. The shoes had boring white laces that didn’t meet my high fashion standards so I swapped them out for primary red ones. Good call.

Add to this charming ensemble the fact that I convinced my older sister to braid my hair in three sections and then crimp my bangs, and weird was probably the word that came to everyone’s mind.

At the tender age of seven, I had yet to grow a self-conscious bone. I was just me. Tree-climbing, alphabet-burping, puzzle-solving, book-loving, roller-blading Becky. And I was hungry for affirmation of what I knew was true — that I was perfectly, wonderfully, and weirdly made.

Gosh, I was a great kid.

Decades later, I’m still great, but somewhere between then and now the compliments I desired most shifted. Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to be seen for exactly me, and I started striving to please others.

Instead of weird, I wanted to be beautiful. Instead of being unique, I wanted to be accepted, influential, admired, and successful. I started caring about others liking me more than I cared about liking myself.

And even deeper than that, I started forgetting who God says I am and tried to cram myself into a mold that wasn’t made for me.

Have you done this too?

It’s natural for our childhood selves to mature into adolescents with greater self-awareness and then into adults with age-appropriate inhibitions. But that doesn’t mean shoving down, casting out, or numbing over the parts of ourselves that make us stand out for the sake of blending in or receiving positive recognition.

If you’re a dreamer, don’t cram yourself into the box of an analytical thinker.
If you’re loud, don’t let the world stifle your voice.
If you’re vibrant, don’t dull your edges.
If you’re intellectual or artsy or stoic or outdoorsy, don’t let an outside voice tell you that another personality or strength is more valuable and attractive.

The amazing thing about God is that He doesn’t make mistakes. Your shyness is on purpose. Your love for a good debate is intentional. Your fast talking or slow processing is not a mistake.

Do we each have areas where we need to grow? Absolutely! We are all on a journey of being refined and becoming more like Christ. But, friend, learning to love and look more like Jesus doesn’t negate the essential beauty of who you already are.

One of my favorite quotes is credited to Saint Irenaeus, a 2nd-century Greek bishop, who said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”

God receives glory when we’re living from the fullness of who He’s made us to be. 

Have you ever known someone who just sparkles? Who shines from the inside out, not because of something they did but because of Who is in them? The Creator gets the glory when His creation reflects His intentional design.

For it was you who created my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will praise you because I have been remarkably and wondrously made.
Your works are wondrous, and I know this very well.
Psalm 139:13-14 CSB

You are God’s remarkable creation. If this truth has slipped through the cracks of time, let me be the one to remind you:

Sister, the way God made you is wondrous! You are distinct. Set apart. A one-of-a-kind masterpiece!

What would happen if you lived like it?

These days I’m re-learning to let the bright and bold confidence of my youth reemerge. I wear the vibrant turquoise tennis shoes that clash with most outfits. I make up silly songs and sing them off-key in the kitchen with my kids. I stay quiet when people expect me to speak. I keep writing about Jesus even if it’s not the popular thing.

I think it’s okay that I no longer want to be known as weird. Instead, I just want to be known as loved.

You are so loved.

Yes, that’s the greatest truth we could orient our lives to. When we walk with the assurance that we are God’s beloved daughters — holy and chosen and wonderfully made — we can be confident marching to whatever beat He gives us.

This devotion originally appeared on (in)courage here.

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

Maybe It’s Time to Try Again

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I flip-flopped for weeks about whether to sign up for Bible study. Not because of the teacher or the content, but rather, for the first time in decades of living sold out, over-the-top committed to the local church body and all it stands for… I’ve become cynical.

I’m over church. I’m over attending on Sundays. I’m over the apathetic actions I witness from Christ-followers. My apathy comes out in deep swirling emotions in ways I’ve not expected.

I’ve been hurt by a lack of authentic community, hurt by leadership choices, hurt by not feeling heard.

I lay awake replaying hastily made decisions. In the morning, I tell my hubby, “I don’t want to go to church today. I’ll watch it online.” He doesn’t agree, but he understands. He goes without me.

I am at a crossroads.

I’ve heard it said, “How we think and feel about the church reveals how much we know the heart of Christ.” I believe in the beauty and majesty of the Church: Christ’s Bride. I’ve witnessed the Holy Spirit convict and renew my soul through pastors who faithfully execute an inherent interpretation of Scripture. I’ve seen first-hand men and women once spiritually dead now resurrected to newness in Life through Christ by gathering together in community — but it’s been a long time since I’ve viewed corporate worship as a glimpse of Christ’s heavenly gathering on earth.

It’s hard to keep showing up.

Why do I? I’m tired.

Tired of varying opinions. Tired of disagreements, and tired of watching friends leave. There are definite seasons to withdraw and heal from the establishment of a church, but for how long?

One decision to stay home can quickly become a habit. In a culture that’s become increasingly individualistic, so has our spirituality. Many have gotten out of the habit of meeting together and they don’t miss it. Would I? I hope so. It’s a slippery slope and the enemy prowls. He celebrates when believers isolate and forget the wonder of God’s grace found in a biblically healthy church.

Lord, I beg you to renew my heart. Reinvigorate my passion for Your Bride.

…

That was a private journal entry I wrote four years ago amidst a long, honest struggle of staying put when I wanted to go, of digging deeper roots when I wanted to unearth it all.

But I’m grateful to say that in the middle of the wrestling, I kept showing up. 

I’m sure many of you resonate with the angst I’ve experienced. I’m sorry it’s so hard. I’m sorry the wounds are so real. Maybe you still haven’t gone back to church. You love Jesus, but maybe the scars feel fresh or the local church doesn’t hold the fervor it once did.

Here’s what I want you to know: You don’t have to do it alone.

A friend, raw and wounded, recently texted me. “I want to give church a try again, but I can’t do it alone. Will you sit with me?”

She chose the hard because she understood that regardless of her complicated experience, there is goodness and purpose in meeting together. The Gospels show us of how the disciples “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship” and spent time “attending the temple together” (Acts 2:42, 46 ESV).

When the Holy Spirit swept through in the Book of Acts, people converted AND they joined a church/gathering/assembly. God’s Spirit and His gathered people occurred in tandem. I don’t think the early church was thinking about personal convenience or comfortable choices. 

Throughout Scripture, we witness the non-negotiable command to hold fast to the Bride of Christ and gather together for corporate worship. It doesn’t specify meeting in a particular building but affirms the necessity of consistent gatherings where we’re nourished spiritually and offered shepherding care alongside accountability.

I’ve lived through lonely seasons when that didn’t occur, but I’m encouraged and challenged now in the slow beauty of staying, of watching and waiting while the Lord brings life-changing regeneration to the lives of our members.

There’s a vast difference between being tethered to the Body of Christ vs. being someone who periodically visits a church building.

In this spirit, I bore my heart to our wonderful, new pastor:

“I’ve prayed for years that the Lord would release me from ‘church’ and while there are seasons for leaving, He is calling me to stay. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but as long as I am a member here, I’m choosing to use my gifts as a connector, not a complainer.”

I wanted my pastor to know that I recognize how easy it is to be someone who sits, spews, and stirs the pot. But instead, I choose to come alongside and serve. 

Hebrews 10:23-25 (NIV) is clear.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds,  not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

 Will you join me in holding unswervingly to the hope we profess?

For those who are able, let’s try church this week, knowing that while the choice is challenging, His Spirit dwells, sustains, and empowers us, especially where two or more are gathered.

Let’s assemble together next Sunday, knowing that while we hold complicated feelings about church, the Spirit frees us to worship in joy because of the gospel.

If you are feeling stirred to try church again, remember that you’re not alone. 

If you leave a comment, I’d love to pray for you. 

Listen to today’s article below or on your favorite podcast app. 

What to Say to Those Who Are Waiting

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DaySpring’s new book, What To Say When You Don’t Know What to Say, is a guide for navigating serious moments with clear, compassionate communication.

There are times when life’s challenges can make us speechless. But that doesn’t mean we should stay silent — especially when we’re in a position to offer life-giving words. This useful guide provides helpful tips and words to share when readers aren’t quite sure what to say. It draws on Scripture to offer compassionate, biblical communication prompts to strengthen relationships —  and readers can impart words of truth and peace to give hope where, and when, it’s needed. Take a peek at an excerpt:

What to Say to Those Who Are Waiting

It’s like a four-letter word in our culture. WAIT seems almost synonymous with inefficiency and frustration, combusting into either anger or fear. Nothing feels more uncomfortable or unproductive than the span of time that exists between where we are and what we desire, whether it’s as small as waiting in line for your turn at a ride in Disney World or as significant as waiting to meet the right person to marry.

Every time we wait, we find ourselves in a wilderness of sorts.

We don’t know what is going to happen and when or if life will turn the way we want it to go. The vulnerability moves us to want, even demand, motion of some kind —  any kind — to ensure that our souls won’t be staying in the land of waiting for long.

But God has a history of leading His people into the wilderness: Think of Abraham, Joseph, Moses, David, Jesus. It’s in the waiting, even the wandering, that our hearts get tested and refined like gold in a furnace. When we turn to Him in it, another word emerges in our hearts: TRUST.

In the waiting, our faith grows stronger as we discover that God is present with us. His presence not only forges His patience in us, but we also learn to live at peace with Him in the process of faith’s refining fires.

I say, “The Lord is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in him. The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the person who seeks him. It is good to wait quietly for salvation from the lord.”
Lamentations 3:24–26 CSB

LIFE-GIVING WORDS FOR THOSE WHO ARE WAITING

I am certain that I will see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord.
PSALM 27:13–14 CSB

You can be certain of this: God has good planned for you today, tomorrow, and forever. Just wait and see!

We wait for the Lord; He is our help and shield. For our hearts rejoice in Him because we trust in His holy name.
PSALM 33:20–21 CSB

You not only have a powerful Helper, but He is shielding you from harm even as you wait on Him. He will deliver you at just the right time!

I wait for the Lord; I wait and put my hope in His word. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning—more than watchmen for the morning.
PSALM 130:5–6 CSB

As certain as the sun rises, God will come to the rescue. Keep your eyes focused on Him!

—

What to Say When You Don’t Know What to Say is a resource book for all believers to begin thinking and then speaking like Jesus — by starting with His Word. It is designed to help us find the firm foundation of comfort and encouragement God gives throughout the Scriptures, then translate those truths into relatable words of affirmation so we can speak plainly and purposefully into others’ lives when the moment arises without sounding cliché or superficial. But these words of life are simply a starting point.

As we pray for His anointing, God’s Spirit will speak through us with the kind of supernatural power, truth, and love that sets His people free.

We know you’ll turn to this book again and again for support in your hard conversations. Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

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

 

*Giveaway open until 4/26/24 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only.

God Will Meet Us in the Muchness

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The hunter-green box sat tucked among books in the antique store, a mystery hiding in plain sight. One word on the spine caught my eye: puzzle.

As an author and a voracious reader, I’m naturally drawn to the book section of any store, my neck bent as I peruse the selection. But I’m also a puzzle person. Every Christmas, Mom and I try to beat our personal record of puzzles completed. Movies play in the background while we sort, organize, and put the pictures together. We have it down to a science at this point, starting and finishing fourteen 500-1,000 piece puzzles over the last holiday break.

It’s no wonder the green box called my name. Designed to look like a hardback book sitting on a shelf, the “front page” opened to reveal puzzle pieces. Immediately, I was intrigued. But when I read the back of the box, like its own book description, I was sold.

See, this puzzle included 500 pieces and an envelope with a clue . . . but no picture of what would be the finished design.

Challenge accepted, I said to myself before walking toward the cash register.

Let’s see how this goes, I thought as I later dumped the pieces onto my kitchen table.

There were a few moments of frustration, a couple of exasperated “What in the world is going on here?” questions, and eventually “Oh! I see!” exclamations. Two hours later, I stood back and admired the completed scene.

What didn’t make sense at the moment was crystal clear at the end.

I’m writing this just days after Easter, and it’s easy to see the metaphor hiding in plain sight. Still, the memory of the mystery puzzle startled me with its timing. Holy Week, the days stretching from Palm Sunday to Easter, hold the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. In my personal life, this week holds tender and difficult memories. This time last year, I began a post titled For When You’re (Still) Waiting on a Miracle with these words: Easter has passed and I’m still waiting for resurrection.

I’m still waiting, still watching, still hoping.

I’m still learning to rejoice in the ruins and sing in the shadows.

“Where is Jesus in these days?” I wondered again this year. Where is Jesus in the A Lot and the Too Much, the hosanna and the how can it be, the deep betrayal and the bewildering silence and the sustaining joy? Goodness is always here because Emmanuel, God With Us, promises to never leave, and so I decided to look closely, trusting God would be faithful to meet me in the “muchness” of this week.

It wasn’t until I began sitting in the beautifully specific details of Holy Week and writing out what became an email series titled “Here, in the week of it all” that I realized in some small way I was gathering puzzle pieces, examining each one while anticipating the final picture.

Every day, I opened the Gospels and read the account of what happened that particular day, each one like a chapter in a larger story, a puzzle piece that doesn’t make much sense on its own and yet fits perfectly in the completed picture. I wrote a week of devotions, tying in what I learned from my trips to Israel with Scripture and songs to sit with in our weeping and hoping, our waiting and wondering . . . and then the mystery puzzle came to mind, the final picture and daily devotion taking me by surprise.

In many ways, we know how the story ends. God goes back to a garden, Jesus doesn’t run, and Love stays on the cross. Resurrection comes with the morning and Friday becomes Good. But in our own stories, during the terrible Fridays and confusing Saturdays of our own lives, when we know the last page of the story yet have no idea what tomorrow will bring, it’s this truth that brings comfort:

“I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, ‘My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.’”
Isaiah 46:10 NIV

God knows the end from the beginning, and no matter what or how much our days hold, He will hold us. Nothing – no thing – will take Him by surprise. There’s no such thing as “too much” for God, and He will be faithful to meet us in the muchness of our days.

I titled the final piece of the series “For All of Us” because the Good News isn’t just for each of us… it’s for all of us, every single piece of us. Come as you are, the cross beckons. Bring your sadness and confusion, your worries and fears. Bring your broken heart and your anger, your wild hope and your “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.”

One day, we’ll look back and see how every single piece had a purpose. The finished picture will be stunning. But for now, here in the days of puzzle pieces that don’t yet make sense, we wait. We watch. We hope. And we trust that the One who sees the end from the beginning will meet us in the muchness.

Our days may hold a lot, 500 pieces of This, That, and The Other… but somehow, mysteriously and miraculously, God holds us.

If the puzzle piece you’re holding today is one of sadness or confusion, Day One of the “Here, in the week of it all” series was written with you in mind. Click here to read For The Ones Who Are Weeping. My hope is that it will offer encouragement right in the middle of the muchness.

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

Doing This Might Make You Forget God

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“When the Lord your God brings you into the land he swore to your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he would give you — a land with large and beautiful cities that you did not build, houses full of every good thing that you did not fill them with, cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant — and when you eat and are satisfied, be careful not to forget the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the place of slavery.”
Deuteronomy 6:10-12 CSB

As the Israelites were preparing to enter the promised land, God was preparing their hearts to not forget Him. God reminded His people of His long track record of miraculous faithfulness and assured them that His generosity and provision would continue.

But . . . God also offered a warning.

“Be careful not to forget the Lord.”

God knows that human hearts can easily become so satisfied with the gifts that we forget the Giver.

Yes, the Israelites would enjoy occupying safe cities and beautiful homes, having access to water and a variety of delicious foods. These blessings would be an intense contrast to their forty years of living in tents in the wilderness, constantly moving, and being sustained on manna alone. But be careful, God said. Don’t forget Me. I’m the One who made your freedom and flourishing possible. The One you still need — in times of plenty and in times of want.

Sister, accept God’s gentle warning today. Is there an area of your life where you’ve become so focused on the gift that you’ve forgotten the Giver?

Take time today to remember what God has done in your life. Thank Him. And recommit to living dependent on Him.

 

Something NEW! Recipe for BLT Roll-Ups

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See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19 NIV

Spring is truly in the air, and it reminds us of one of our favorite verses. This passage from Isaiah brings to mind pictures of burbling streams, a path to follow in the driest of deserts, and God making all things new. New weather, new milestones, and new menus to see us through the start of a new season.

There’s something about a good old BLT (bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich) that just says spring. And while they’re always a crowd-pleaser, they can be tricky to make ahead and serve fresh when company comes.

Well, our friend Nancy has just the ticket to making these best-loved sandwiches crowd-friendly… and with a twist! With a recipe from The Living Table by Abby Turner, here are those fan favorites turned into easy-to-make-ahead roll-ups! Yeah! There’s even a special ingredient that adds a new twist for spring and takes these roll-ups to the next level. Make a platter full for your next gathering – and read till the end to find the perfect serving pieces!

Scroll down for the recipe and download a FREE printable recipe card! And as you assemble these for a picnic, a gathering, or a sideline dinner during sports practice, take a breath and a moment to remember the newness of life that God brings us in the spring. . . and with every new morning.

BLT Roll-Ups

Download the FREE recipe card here!

Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: none
Makes 8-10 servings.

INGREDIENTS:

  • 6 spinach tortillas
  • 2 Tablespoons mayonnaise
  • 1 head lettuce
  • 12 strawberries, sliced
  • 6 slices deli turkey
  • 8 slices bacon, cooked

INSTRUCTIONS:

  1. Lay out the spinach tortillas on a flat surface.
  2. Spread mayo first, then lettuce, strawberries, turkey, and 2 pieces of bacon.
  3. Roll the tortilla tight. Pro Tip: Spreading enough mayo is crucial to getting the tortilla to stay wrapped tight.
  4. Place in the freezer for 10 minutes to set.
  5. Remove the tortillas from the freezer, cut off the ends, and then cut them into 1/2-inch-wide rounds.

NOTE: Recipe from The Living Table, by Abby Turner.

To get the beautiful look pictured here, use the Table Talk Pizza & Flatbread Board and line it with the Table Talk Wax Paper Liners. Set out the Simply Elegant Sugar & Creamer Set so you’ll be ready to offer a post-roll-up cup of coffee! And the Celebration Melamine Serving Bowl comes in handy for serving additional items such as fruit or chips. Find these beautiful pieces and more at Mary & Martha by DaySpring.

May any time you spend in the kitchen and around the table be time to commune with Jesus, experience His love, and share it with others.