When Your Heart Hurts Over an Adult Child

When Your Heart Hurts Over an Adult Child

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She chased me down in the empty church hallway. Her voice wobbled as she began to speak and a shift in her cadence alerted me that this was a conversation where I needed to stop hustling to the sanctuary. The worship service could wait.

“Jen, thank you for reminding me that we aren’t the only parents struggling in this season.” Her tears started falling. “I never envisioned this stage of mothering — parenting adult children — could be so lonely or that I’d ever be disconnected from one of my children. I’ve asked myself again and again, ‘Did we do something wrong? What can we do differently?’  Mothering guilt is so very painful and I’ve lost so much sleep over his choices.”

For the next thirty minutes, she bared her tender, mothering soul. We carved a connection that only comes when two people cast off appearances, acknowledge shared struggles, and hold each other’s cares with great compassion. I’ve learned when we enter delicate discussions with a quiet and humble heart, then tender conversations can heal instead of hurt.

She felt comfortable approaching me because a few weeks earlier I facilitated our Sunday School discussion on parenting adult children. The first week, our class hosted a panel of younger adults spanning ages from twenty-four to thirty-nine. We encouraged them to speak freely so we could better understand the generation we are parenting. They answered a plethora of dicey questions ranging from “Why do so many young people who were raised in the Church, turn away from the Lord?” to “As parents, we have blind spots, so discuss your best advice that we need to know.” (Their answers were so good! Treat them like adults because they are adults. Less lecture, listen more. Allow mistakes without micromanaging, and more valuable insights.)

The following week we continued the discussion among our peers and I started with C.S. Lewis’s reminder. “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.’” That is the reassurance we often need in parenting. We are not alone in this journey, yet our parenting stories are so personal. When our hearts splay open as our adult children make lifelong choices that we don’t have the freedom to share, we carry the burden in isolation. It’s understandable to feel a deep ache, but this is when we need each other most; we need mothering mentors to normalize this discussion.

As mommas, we spend over eighteen years comforting our kids and carrying their burdens, nurturing and negotiating their future, naming their pain alongside years of loving, and listening to and learning their hopes and dreams. We lean in and become professors of their personalities, and when we finally launch them to be their very best selves, we pray their biblical foundation propels them to the goodness and glory of the Lord. Yet for many in our Sunday school class, and I’m guessing for many of you too, we’re met with their faith resistance.

There’s a new tension in our hearts. We believe we know what’s best for them, right? (And oftentimes we do!) But while they’ll always be our babies, they’ve left our parental guardianship and are now accountable to the Lord. It’s time to listen more and lean into who they’ve become. It’s an ongoing season of releasing control and managing expectations. It’s a season of surrounding our adult kids in prayer and turning any worries, wonderings, and ‘what ifs’ about their future, their safety, and their choices to the One who knows and loves them best.

Using Colossians 1:9-12 as a model, Paul’s prayer for the church of Colossae is my heartbeat for our five adult kids. I personalize it with their name and pray specifics from this passage to their lives:

“And so, from the day we heard, have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding,  so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him: bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God;  being strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy; giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.”

Mommas, take a deep cleansing breath with me. Let’s unclench our fists, raise our open hands, and release our adult children to Him — our Abba Father, Healer, Rescuer, the One who takes this often topsy-turvy world and makes sense of it. Take Heart. He can and will do it!!

My prayer is that all of us will be able to proclaim, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth” (3 John 1:4).

What a day of rejoicing that will be.

Our children, their spouses, and our grandbaby are my greatest delight, yet I know the challenges many are facing. I’d be honored to carry this discussion/prayer into the comments.

 

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You Don’t Have to Love This in Order for It to Be Beautiful

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Cacti are not my favorite plants. I also don’t particularly like the fact that cacti is the plural of cactus. I wanted to say cactuses. But that’s neither here nor there. Though I was born in Arizona and therefore must have a smidge of desert in my blood, I find cacti more obtrusive than inviting, more awkward than beautiful. I don’t like it when they grow monstrously large and take over an entire yard. And more than once I’ve had to remove painful spines from a child’s hand. I love me some plants and I’m plenty outdoorsy, but a cactus? Not the kind of plant I would ever choose.

Yesterday on my morning walk I passed by a nondescript house with lackluster landscaping, which I have passed by probably one hundred times before. But this time, something caught the corner of my eye. There, protruding out of a bulky cactus was the most delicate white flower. I had to stop and strain my neck to peer around the backside of the formidable plant and fully take in the impressive blossom. Creamy white petals splayed open creating a deep center boasting of intricate light-yellow filaments.

This flower was the only one on a whole cluster of dull cacti. I had never seen anything like it. The protruding bloom wasn’t just an unexpected visual feast for me, it was also a beacon of delight for a handful of bees. The buzzing creatures happily hovered over anthers heavy with yellow pollen, zipping in and out of the cavernous center.

In that moment I was reminded again that beauty can, in fact, be found anywhere – even in a cactus.

As I continued on my walk, I kept thinking about the ugly cacti (ugly in my humble opinion; you’re welcome to disagree) and its one beautiful blossom. And it reminded me of the fact that so often in life, goodness sprouts up from things we would never choose.

I would never have chosen Generalized Anxiety Disorder, but this mental illness has allowed God’s comfort and compassion — and in turn my empathy for others — to bloom in the most life-giving ways.

I would never have chosen for my son to have a visual processing disorder which, several years ago, led us to an educational crossroads where we made the decision to hold him back in school. But that hard circumstance led to God’s protection and provision in so many beautiful ways.

I would never have chosen to be long-term renters instead of homeowners. But despite the fact that our name is not on the house title, we’ve made our current address home for almost a decade. We’ve experienced the wild beauty of opening these rented doors, adding chairs to our table and pillows to the floor, and sharing with others the gift God has entrusted to our care.

Gorgeous flowers that could only bloom from cacti – blessings reaped from un-favorite things we didn’t know we needed.

Think back on your own life and the circumstances you would never choose . . . can you see the beauty? Can you see the goodness that came from that job you didn’t get or that relationship that started out on a rocky foot? Can you see the blessing that sprouted from that difficult diagnosis, cross-country move, or brutal season in parenting?

We serve a God who is in the lifelong business of turning ashes into beauty, weakness into strength, and death into life!

Indeed, “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 CSB).

While Scripture is irrevocably true, we can still admit that recognizing the beauty of God’s goodness, kindness, compassion, provision, or grace in our lives does not erase the proverbial cactus spines. Life is still prickly and hard and there will surely be parts we would never choose and would rather avoid.

And guess what? That’s okay.

Cacti are still not my favorite plant, but I can appreciate their potential to produce something beautiful.

May we hold open hands and open hearts to the same potential in all our ugly, uncomfortable, or unfavorite life circumstances today. Beauty may be just around the corner in the place you’d least expect.

For more encouragement on how to see the daily beauty of God’s fingerprints in the midst of life’s prickly and painful moments, follow Becky on Instagram!

 

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Walking with the Women of the Bible

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Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let us go out to the field.” And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” He said, “I do not know; am I my brother’s keeper?” And the Lord said, “What have you done? Listen, your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground! And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you till the ground, it will no longer yield to you its strength; you will be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth.” Cain said to the Lord, “My punishment is greater than I can bear! Today You have driven me away from the soil, and I shall be hidden from Your face; I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and anyone who meets me may kill me.” Then the Lord said to him. “Not so! Whoever kills Cain will suffer a sevenfold vengeance.” And the Lord put a mark on Cain, so that no one who came upon him would kill him. Then Cain went away from the presence of the Lord and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden …

Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and named him Seth, for she said, “God has appointed for me another child instead of Abel, because Cain killed him.” To Seth also a son was born, and he named him Enosh. At that time people began to invoke the name of the Lord.
Genesis 4:8-16, 25-26 NRSVA

Eve’s life had been quiet for so long.

Once, a lifetime ago, it had not been so. When her boys, Cain and Abel, were small, her days were filled with the sounds of childhood.

Shouts of laughter. The stampede of bare feet as they chased each other in their play. The low whispers drifted to her through the darkness as the brothers planned the next day’s adventures from their sleeping mats.

But as they grew into young men, their relationship began to change.

Laughter gave way to harsh words and tears. Instead of moving toward each other in friendship, her sons pulled away from each other, each wary of bridging the distance between them. At night, an angry silence fell over the tent as they turned their backs to each other from their sleeping mats.

Eve knew things were bad between her sons, but how could she have ever imagined the horror that was to come?

Abel’s blood soaking into the cursed earth, his young life cut short by his own brother’s hand.

Cain lost, too, driven away from home and family by his crime.

In one breathtaking stroke, Eve was forced to bury one son and watch the other walk out of her life forever.

Somehow, she opened her eyes that next morning. Somehow, she took her next breath. Somehow, she kept putting one foot in front of the other.

And the quiet descended, carried on the back of grief. In the silence of loss, life slipped by, day by day, month by month, year after year.

The loss of Cain and Abel was an ocean of pain that seemed to stretch endlessly between Eve and her husband Adam-too vast to chart, too precarious to cross. Until, somehow, a lifetime later, Adam and Eve drifted nearer each other, close enough to reach for the comfort of each other’s arms across the years of loss. It was the beginning of healing, the first stirring of resurrection. The advent of new life.

Now, the silent years of mourning have drawn to an end.

Eve groans in agony as a contraction washes over her. With the next wave of pain, she cries out, and a moment later another, fainter cry, takes the place of her own.

Through laughter and joyful tears, Eve reaches down to lift her newborn son to her chest with trembling hands. She holds him near, and whispers his name for the first time.

“Seth.”

The weary mother laughs in wonder as the baby boy’s face wrinkles in fury and his cry grows louder. Once again, the sounds of life have come to her tent, filling the emptiness.

Banishing the quiet of grief and loss.

Tears have given way to laughter, and the sound of bare feet running in play won’t be far behind. At night, a baby’s cry will once again pierce the stillness of her tent, accompanied by whispered prayers of gratitude.

For at last, new life has come.

Against all odds. Despite every mistake and in defiance of each regret…

Life wins.

And this is the love story of Scripture from beginning to end: a loving God gives life. The accuser attacks, bringing death. For a time, it seems all hope is gone.

But God always has the last word.

—

This is an excerpt from the new book, From Where I Stand: A 30-Day Journey with Women of the Bible, written by two of our favorite writers, Sherri Gragg and Shanna Noel. This book invites you to trace the footsteps of ordinary women who faced unique challenges, endured extraordinary circumstances, and encountered the living God.

They are the long-suffering, courageous, flawed, and faithful women of the Bible. In this 30-day guide featuring devotions, Scriptures, and reflection questions, you’ll experience what these women saw and how they felt, from the lushness of the Garden of Eden to the blistering sunshine illuminating Christ’s tomb. You’ll emerge with insights that can be gleaned from their failures, triumphs, patience, and perseverance. Most of all, you’ll learn about the character of God who gave them life, remembered them, and placed them with a purpose exactly where they were meant to be. Just as He has done for you.

We know you’ll simply love this book! Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

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

 

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You Don’t Have to Be a Perfect “Good Girl” to Be Loved

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I’m sitting in my counselor’s office. We’re talking about the pressure I feel to be “good,” my fear of disappointing people, the cloud of guilt that often hovers over my heart.

She asks me, “When is the first time you ever felt that way?” A scene from my childhood comes back to me. I’m a little girl of six or so, standing in my backyard by the swing set. The sky is blue above, the grass green beneath my bare feet. I have a sudden thought that I’m bad and God wants to punish me. (The grown-up version of this thought sounds more like, “Something is wrong with me” or “God must be mad at me.” (Sound familiar?)

I have no idea what provoked this thought. Perhaps I smacked my little brother or pulled the dog’s tail. Maybe I snuck the last cookie or didn’t eat my broccoli. Most likely, knowing now how I’m wired, I did nothing wrong at all.

When I think of this moment, it makes me ache. I was so small to believe such a big lie. Now I am so big to still sometimes believe it. My counselor asked me to see this scene from a different perspective, to invite Jesus into it. When I do so, everything changes. My heart hears Him say that I am loved, covered in grace, that He wants me to be free.

When the session was almost done, my counselor and I looked for new words to replace the old lie I’d believed. My thinking sounded like, “I’m bad and I have to force myself to be good.” The new sentence that comes to mind is, “I’m already loved, and I am a force for good.”

It’s a subtle shift but a powerful one. So many of us have been taught to be “good girls” who try hard to meet expectations, but I believe God wants so much more for us.

Queen Esther was raised to be a “good girl.” She has no voice or choice when she’s taken from her family to join the royal harem. Her role is to please a narcissistic king who cares only for himself. Yet when her people are in danger, God empowers her to act with great courage. She finds her voice. She makes her own choice.

When Jesus visits the home of Martha, she’s busy trying to make sure she does everything right and meets the cultural expectations for women. But, as Jesus gently points out, she’s missing what matters most. Yet later when her brother Lazarus dies, “When Martha got word that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him. But Mary stayed in the house” (John 11:20 NLT). The former “good girl” feels free to be in or out of the kitchen and she’s pursuing her good God.

The Proverbs 31 woman is also often talked about as the ultimate “good girl” but when you look closer at her life, she’s really a powerful woman. She has strengths like being creative, resourceful, and business-savvy. She is respected, wise, proactive, and independent. “She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future” (Prov. 31:25 NLT).

We try to be “good girls” because we’re afraid. We fear being bad. We fear being rejected. We fear making someone (including God) upset. What helps? “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 John 4:18 NIV).

We think we need to be perfect to stop being afraid; what we really need is God’s perfect, healing love.

When I got home from my counseling appointment, I wrote this…

Then one day she decided
to stop being a “good girl,”
and became an unstoppable
woman who’s a force for good.

I posted those words on Instagram and so many of you responded. That’s when I knew I wasn’t alone in my struggle. Maybe you’ve tried to be a good girl like me, and you’re ready for something new. If so, Jesus wants to set your heart free from every lie that has held you back too.

Let’s believe we’re already loved.

Let’s stop trying to be “good girls.”

Let’s be unstoppable forces for good.

Are you with me?

If you want more truth and encouragement to set your heart free from fear and lies, then Holley’s new devotional book, What Your Mind Needs for Anxious Moments will help! Get a free excerpt on Holley’s site.

 

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It’s Always a Great Day to Pray! 

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“Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion. Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.”
Ephesians 6:18 NLT

It’s always a great day to pray!

Paul’s words to the Ephesians remind us not to become complacent in our prayers — but to pray at all times and on every occasion. That means there is never a time we don’t need to pray. God desires for us to continually turn our thoughts to Him (Isaiah 26:3) and rely on His strength (Ephesians 6:10)– instead of trusting in our own worrying or controlling or striving.

Let’s be persistent in prayer today — for ourselves and for one another! 

Leave your prayer request in the comments and then pray for the person who commented before you.

We are sisters around the world, connected in Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit! Thank You, Lord!

 

What If Being Influential Is Simpler Than You Might Think?

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“Now that same day two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, which was about seven miles from Jerusalem. Together they were discussing everything that had taken place. And while they were discussing and arguing, Jesus himself came near and began to walk along with them.”
Luke 24:13–15 CBS

I sat across the table from her at a local Chinese restaurant, strangers eager to get to know each other. I was the new associate pastor on staff, and though it wasn’t part of my job description to meet with the young adults in our congregation, she seemed hungry for connection and care.

Over shared plates of noodles and savory meats, I asked about her life and what it was like growing up at the church. She opened up about her family, how she had been raised by a single parent, and the hurts—even traumas—she had received from pastors and fellow youth group students in the past. She didn’t know how to feel about church, but she was curious and perhaps even a tinge hopeful that things could be different with the younger pastors who had come on board recently.

I met with her and many others over the first year of my time on staff, trying to get a pulse for what God was doing, what the ministry and the congregation needed, and how I was to invest in the people who were hungry and ready to be discipled.

I was new to ministry and had seen leaders of the church I grew up in only use programs and curricula they found in mainstream ministries to “do” discipleship. But those didn’t fit the culture of our city and the people who were in our community, so I did what I knew how to do: feed people and create a safe place for them to be.

Once my husband and I were ready to buy a home, we discussed what we wanted most out of it, and we both agreed that the most important thing would be an open space where people could gather comfortably. We imagined hosting small groups and movie nights, Friendsgivings and Christmas parties, and when we did find the right house, that’s exactly what we got to do. But more than those big get-togethers, I realize now that discipleship happened most at our dinner table.

Food was always a sure way to ease into conversations where I could share what I saw God doing in someone’s life, guide them when they needed it, and be there for them when they ached for a place to belong. I walked with them through family issues, church frustrations, and relationship sorrows and joys. I didn’t follow a program or even read books together with them, but it was at the dinner table that our eyes were opened to see God.

The story in Luke 24:13–15 about the two disciples walking to Emmaus is such a clear picture of what discipleship looks like. Discipleship is coming alongside one another, sharing life and its struggles, and pointing one another to Jesus—our Hope, our Answer, and our God. He showed us the way on the road to Emmaus, and we can follow in His footsteps.

by Grace P. Cho, as published in Courageous Influence: Embrace the Way God Made You for Impact

This devotion is from our Bible Study Courageous Influence: Embrace the Way God Made You for Impact, written by Grace P. Cho and featuring stories from our (in)courage contributors. The world tells you that your influence only reaches as far as your social media followers. But the Bible shows you how God can use you right where you are to be an influence for the kingdom. Turn the idea of influence on its head and become the courageous woman of influence God calls us to be — get a free week and learn more from the Courageous Influence Bible Study!

When You Have to Walk Through Hell on Your Way to Heaven

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At points in my life, I’ve endured the kind of suffering that shakes the faith in which I have professed for most of my adult life.

Deep suffering like this can be so great that it nearly shatters your heart. It dominates your every thought, invades your dreams, and wakes you up at night. Suffering attempts to steal your faith and works vigorously to erode your resolve.

I imagine that you have walked this road. And if you haven’t, you probably know someone who is walking it right now.

That road can be disorienting and painful to accept. I know, because I’ve had to endure it, and I’ve watched so many others endure it as well – even people who love God deeply and have walked with Him faithfully.

When you suffer as a Christian, you know you’re on your way to heaven, but it feels like you have to walk through hell to get there.

The thing about suffering is that it doesn’t skip over God-fearing people. It doesn’t skip over the kind, the lovely, and the generous. It doesn’t skip over people whose Bibles are worn from use.

Suffering doesn’t knock only at the doors of the ungodly. Suffering is the reality of the human experience.

We misrepresent the gospel when we don’t acknowledge that suffering is a part of being a Christian. When we say “yes” to a life with Jesus, there is no flip of a switch where your world brightens up with only sunshine and rainbows, like the perfect summer day. Sometimes, life feels more like winter, where you’re trapped in an unforgiving blizzard.

I am reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul, who wrote this: “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake” (Philippians 1:29, ESV). In this passage, Paul doesn’t specifically describe the type of suffering. Yet, we can certainly understand from his words here that, if you are in Christ, you are also “in suffering,” in its various forms.

Jesus often pointed to the connection between suffering and following Him. “And he said to all, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23, ESV).

Here are five things the enemy wants you to believe when you are suffering like this:

You’ve not been faithful enough.

This will never get better.

God isn’t actually good.

Your prayers are wasted.

God isn’t going to come through for you.

What I remind myself of in times of suffering is that Jesus and His cross prove that the enemy’s lies are untrue.

What god in the history of gods was willing to enter into the physical reality of the human experience? Our God alone.

Jesus willingly walked this earth, experiencing every pain, loss, betrayal, and heartbreak we feel.

As the late Tim Keller once said: “Jesus Christ did not suffer so that you would not suffer. He suffered so that when you suffer, you’ll become more like him. The gospel does not promise you better life circumstances; it promises you a better life.”

As we suffer, Jesus is the One who steps in to comfort us.

A friend of mine, going through an agonizing time, told me recently, “I would rather suffer with Christ by my side.” And this — “Christ beside us” — is our great comfort when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. David reminds us in Psalm 23, that as we walk the valley, we can fear no evil, for God’s rod and staff comfort us.

As you face your own suffering, know that God’s goodness and mercy are following you, all the days of your life.

He is in this with you, even when you suffer – especially when you suffer.

If you’re currently in a place of suffering, Stuff I’d Only Tell God is for you. It’s a journal that gives you space and permission to be right where you are, in your suffering, your doubts, and your healing.

 

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His Mercies Are New Every Four O’Clock

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Well, I am turning right onto I-77, the interstate road that will take me over the lake, and I like the way the water sparkles — like a mirror, always reflecting the light of the good sun. 

I am listening to the radio but, really, I am not listening at all . . . because I am listening to the one thousand voices in my head going on and on about all the things that overwhelm me. The emails left unchecked and the texts unanswered. I think about the pills I forgot to take and the muscles I failed to stretch. Then, every trivial matter spirals into the deepest despair as I think about the body I cannot fix and the people I’ve let down. There are the decisions I need to make about the kids and the guilt that comes uninvited. 

There’s my marriage, my family, and trying to shoulder the weight of the world through the mere hours of work I clock in each week. I glance at the time. It’s only four o’clock, but I feel as tired and burdened as last-minute prayers at bedtime. At this moment, not a minute later, I need the kind of grace that can’t wait until kingdom come, can hardly wait until morning. 

I need the fresh reminder of God’s mercy right now; I need the reminder that His love knows no bounds. Long gone are my teenage years, that raging age when I’d cry myself to sleep, unsure of God’s love and overwhelmed with the weight of life. Desperate to believe that God’s love was really for me, I’d cry my heart out just before sleep, only to wake up puffy-eyed and hoping the newness that I felt from waking to a new day was really God’s way of waking me to new mercies. 

But, right here in the car, I think I’ve realized something that teenage me never did. Right here in my car with nothing mystical or magnificent happening — not even the circuit of the sun setting and rising that I rely on to fix the gaping need in my soul — I feel God and His presence and the promise of His steadfast mercy. 

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
Lamentations 3:21-24 

This is the passage of Scripture that carried me through my weary, teenage nights. The passage that got me through the anger and bitterness of my soul through my high school years — the actual affliction, the sense of wandering and lostness. I remember how these words held me with hope, how they traced truth, making hope glow like a light in the dark. 

Looking back, I now see that God’s unfailing love didn’t just come to me every morning, it carried me through every night. His mercy was the breath in my lungs even though my body was weak. His mercy was love in my life even though I felt lost and alone. His mercy was a feast for my soul, sustaining me though I ached and starved for my life to change. 

And if I held onto Him then, I could hold onto Him now, heavy-laden and heaving and all. I can hold onto Him this minute (and the next . . . and the next), never needing to hold out for the morning to wash me anew. I can recall His mercies to my mind now, right here in this car driving over the lake that sparkles with the light of the good sun. 

I can walk through sorrow and sadness, the overwhelm of my soul. I can stand as my heart breaks, holding out hope for the fragility of it all — for the world and the ones I love. Though I weep, His mercies are new every morning. Though I carry the weight of sin in my soul and on my skin, His mercies are new every morning. 

His mercies are new every four o’clock, too. And every two in the morning then, again, at two in the afternoon when it’s time to shuttle the kids across town. His mercies are new every millisecond, stretching wide and reaching deep to cover us for any reason . . . at any time, in any place.

This article is by Rachel Marie Kang and is featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

The brand new FALL issue of DaySpring’s Everyday Faith Magazine just hit newsstands!

From cover to cover, you will find stories and articles like the one above that will inspire hope, prompt reflection, and encourage you for the upcoming autumn months. You will find tips on how to spruce up your front porch for the season, how to cultivate true gratitude, and how to dig deeper into God’s Word. There are beautiful tear-out prayers to share cards, scannable QR codes for bonus goodies, and exclusive Fall Planning Calendars tucked inside!

Everyday Faith magazine will help you know and share God’s love in fresh, true, and inspiring ways. Pick up your copy wherever magazines are sold and at DaySpring.com. This article is just one of many featured in Everyday Faith magazine, which, by the way, is perfect for reading on your lunch break, bringing in the carpool line, or gifting to a friend.

And to help you do just that, we’re giving away FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend! Leave a comment telling us to whom you’d gift a copy, and we’ll draw five winners*.

 

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

*The giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 9/1/23 at 11:59 p.m. central. 

When the Culture Promotes Negativity, Let’s Be Counter-Cultural

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I paused in the middle of a writing session to open a new tab on my web browser. After years devoted to nonfiction, I’m twenty thousand words into the rough draft of my first novel (it both thrills and terrifies me to type these words). The differences between genres no longer overwhelm me, I can compose dialogue (yay!), and I’ve become comfortable writing from points of view beyond my own.

For my last two books, I researched articles in science journals. Now I study character development, and how to describe real places or fabricate fictional settings. I ponder fresh word choices and avoid overused clichés, employ techniques like “show, don’t tell,” foreshadowing, and cliffhangers, and know that HEA means happily ever after. Sometimes I’m so fully immersed in my fictional world that writing dialogue feels like eavesdropping, as if I’m taking dictation on my characters’ conversations.

Some days the sentences build themselves. Perfect turns of phrase flow at will from my fingertips. Other days are just plain hard. I’m not sure what comes next (I’m a pantser, if you care to Google it) or I convince myself I’m wasting my time and no one will read, much less publish this book. On those days, either I push through, take a nap, procrastibake (yes, this is real), read a book, or allow research to lead me down an endless series of rabbit trails — this one has the initial benefit of feeling like work.

Recently, while searching for the perfect song title to use in a scene, I stumbled upon YouTube videos of genuine reactions to hearing famous songs for the first time. Have you seen these? There’s something compelling about watching another person encounter truth, goodness, and beauty in something familiar to you, like two gorgeous 70s pop tunes in the videos I watched. I hadn’t heard one of them in years, but I play it all the time now; it’s an earworm, and the subject of my first conscious thought some mornings.

I’m fascinated by the idea that my favorite song, book, movie, or album exists, but I haven’t discovered it yet. When I watch reaction videos, I anticipate witnessing someone make such a discovery, or at least unearth a treasure I already possess and add it to the lexicon of their cultural literacy. Things that are real, right, and lovely appeal to us and those that are fake, false, and ugly repel us. At least they should. But with time and exposure, we become desensitized. A word that used to guarantee a film an R rating is now common on television.

My husband and I have a theater membership plan that allows us to watch up to three movies a week, which we sometimes do. I also read a lot. I’ve got front-row seats to what’s offered to the culture, and it’s bleak. No matter the subject matter, most of what I see and read is peppered with anti-family, anti-religion, anti-truth, and anti-goodness messages. We watched a comedy recently with demonic content (I don’t use that term lightly). Don’t underestimate the impact these things have on our children and society, on me and you.

Francis Schaeffer observed, “Rome did not collapse because of outward forces, such as the barbarians, but because of inward rottenness,” evidenced by decadence and a lack of creativity in the arts. The 19th-century preacher Charles Spurgeon said, “I believe that one reason why the church of God at this present moment has so little influence over the world is because the world has so much influence over the church.”

The problem isn’t new. However, our ability to counteract it not only privately, but publicly, increases apace with technology. Within our circles, we are all influencers and content creators. When you read a book or see a movie with a positive message, share a review online or tell your friends about it. Take your children to a museum or hang art reproductions in your home. Our family can’t purchase originals, but our walls display three Van Gogh’s, two O’Keeffe’s, and a Vermeer. Vote with your wallet: let your viewing and reading habits tell Hollywood and the publishing industry what you as an audience want.

Friends, don’t be depressed; be empowered. When the culture promotes negativity, be counter-cultural. We have multiple spheres of influence. Let’s use our roles as wives, mothers, friends, homemakers, consumers, or debut novelists to share truth, goodness, and beauty with a fallen world.

“And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”
Romans 12:2 (KJV)

 

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Step off the Hamster Wheel

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This past summer I decided to do something that felt radical for me. I took a break. 

I’m not just talking about a vacation. I actually stopped working. I committed to four weeks of rest without deadlines, meetings, and other obligations. I realized my vision was growing cloudy while squinting at too many to-do lists and hoisting my fatigued body from bed each morning. I knew I was teetering on the edge of burnout and needed to slow my pace for a more extended time. 

Some people call it a sabbatical. I call it an exhale. Sabbaticals have their roots in Christian tradition and Scripture. Leviticus 25:1-5 calls for the people of Israel to set aside the seventh year as a year of rest for the land. In the New Testament, Jesus modeled regular rest and solitude. He drew away from the crowds even when the needs around Him seemed to be pressing (Mark 6:45-46). He napped! (Luke 8:22-23). And Jesus chose to devote Himself to prayer instead of simply plowing through (Matthew 26:36).

The first week of my sabbatical I traveled with my family. The second week I slept. I didn’t realize how deeply fatigued my body was until I actually turned off my alarm and let myself sleep.

My last two decades have been filled with birthing babies, raising my three girls, investing in ministry, grieving the death of my first husband, and chasing demanding deadlines. Sleep too often came with anxiety, restless tossing, and mom guilt. I never gave myself real permission to rest. 

During one of the weeks, my oldest daughter and I decided to drive up to Princess Campground just outside of Hume Lake in Sequoia National Park for some time off the grid while her younger sisters were off galavanting at summer camp. There in the woods, I felt God’s glory lean in close and begin to restore my tired soul. 

From my perch at the picnic table, a cool breeze kissed my neck as my eyes followed up-up-up the trunk of a ponderosa pine. Her sage green branches swayed slightly like a woman wearing a feather boa, promenading across the velvet blue sky. Light streamed between the trunks of the trees. There was no music playing, but there seemed to be a symphony around me. I could hear the flutter of bird wings flapping, the whistle of the wind, and the punctuated play of two squirrels chasing each other down the path.

I saw God’s glory in the blue-crimson flames that danced over the logs of our campfire. I smelled His glory in the earthy scent of the forest, like a lingering cologne. I tasted His glory in the first bite of my s’more sandwich made with cinnamon graham crackers. I heard His glory whisper through unhurried conversations with my girl, who is just starting her senior year of high school and dreaming about the future.

Sometimes we need to create space for our minds to wander, for our hearts to grieve, and for meandering conversation with our people.

Back in Genesis, the Creation story reveals something intentional about God’s architectural plans for the world. He speaks the ocean, heavens, trees, flowers, birds, beasts, sun, moon, and stars into existence in the first five days. Then He takes the dust and sculpts a man, breathing life into him on the sixth day. 

Genesis 2:2 tells us “he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done” (ESV). 

That means the first day on earth for humans was actually a day of rest, not work. God created us to rest. Full stop. In rest, we are invited to delight in the garden, to create in community, to cook up feasts, and dare to dream. Our work then flows out of that rest. 

On my sabbatical, I was reminded that rest helps us untether our souls from the hamster-wheel pace our culture glorifies. Rest helps us change our speed from striving and sprinting to slowing and noticing.

Rest highlights our idols and distractions and brings us back to the peace found only in our Creator’s arms. 

Rest gives us time to abide in Christ rather than chase after the affirmation of others.

In a physical sense, rest is necessary for growth. If we want to build our muscles and endurance, our bodies need both stress and rest. Without resistance, our muscles atrophy or melt away as we age. I lift weights at the gym a few times a week to stress my muscles. This creates micro-tears, which signal the body to send good blood and good nutrition to that area. During rest days, the tiny tears heal and grow back stronger. Our muscles need time for recovery and regeneration — as do our souls. 

Arranging my summer sabbatical took preparation. I had to do work in advance and say no to some good opportunities so I had space to rest. I had to discipline myself not to fill our calendar squares so I had unplanned hours and unscripted days. My brain and my body needed time to heal the micro-tears before they became injuries.

This time of sabbatical taught me how much I need space. My everyday harried, trying-to-multitask life leaves little margin to listen to God.

Friend, what about you? When is the last time you fully rested? Do you give your soul space to breathe? When have you granted yourself permission to grieve or take time away from the treadmill of productivity?

You might not have a month for a sabbatical, but you could carve out a weekend, a day, or even a few hours. Arrange for the babysitter. Book the campsite or the hotel. Mark off the time on your calendar, and protect it.

Our culture preaches that time is money and rest is a myth, but I’m starting to believe the unforced rhythms are actually the healing God intended for us from the beginning. Let’s embrace them. Let’s listen closely for the Spirit’s whisper and His voice in the wind.

Dorina helps women discover God’s glory in unexpected places. Subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here and follow her on Instagram for encouragement and glory resources.

 

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If Only God Would Send out Patience via Overnight Delivery

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In early May, my daughter Abbie experienced a unique car accident. A large round of tree stump fell off the back of a landscaping truck into Abbie’s lane on the expressway. With heavy traffic on all sides and behind her, Abbie couldn’t avoid the stump. She ran right into it. 

The stump wedged itself under her car. Abbie nursed her car along to a nearby friend’s house. After their slacked-jaw response to her arrival, her friends pried the stump from under her car. The stump was big enough for them to roll it into their backyard as extra seating around their fire pit. I’m grateful that a more serious accident didn’t occur.

After eight weeks in the repair shop and many thousands of dollars later, the body shop called. Abbie’s car was almost complete. I was relieved! We’d been sharing my car since the accident. since Abbie lives close by. Even though Abbie lives close and works nearby as a NICU nurse, and I work at home, it was still tricky sharing a car.

The day before Abbie picked up her car, the body shop called again. Her driver’s side seatbelt didn’t pass the electronic safety tests. While her airbags didn’t deploy during the accident, the force of the collision damaged the integrity of the seatbelt. Even though the repairs were complete, her car was legally non-drivable.

Then, an even bigger problem popped up. The shop manager broke the news that there were no seatbelts in the entire country for her vehicle’s make and model. Not in junkyards. Not in the aftermarket. Honda factories weren’t making them. I asked when a seatbelt might become available. The manager let out a long sigh and said: “Ma’am, I don’t know.”

 It’s been five weeks since that phone call. Still no seatbelt nor a hint of when one might arrive. Could be tomorrow, could be two weeks from now, or could be Christmas.

My daughter and I continue to share a car. In the moments when I want to grumble, I remember that this situation is giving me an invitation to grow in my least favorite aspect of the Fruit of the Spirit: patience.

Who loves waiting for something to happen that is out of your control? Answer: Not me.

God knew what He was doing when He designed the Fruit of the Spirit as a singular analogy of what the Holy Spirit grows in our lives. Otherwise, I’d cherrypick the other fruits like love, joy, or kindness of the Fruit of the Spirit tree and leave patience hanging for someone else to figure out. Instead, the Fruits of the Spirit are one because God intends for us to reflect all that Jesus is, not only the parts that we’re interested in.

I don’t enjoy being impatient. I want to pray, “God, take as long as You’d like.” However, once I say “Amen,” I usually expect God to deliver an answer via Amazon Prime in two days or less, preferably overnight shipping.

Can you relate? If patience is hard for you, there’s a popular verse on waiting that sparked an a-ha moment for me that I’d like to share with you. This discovery didn’t make waiting easier, but it has helped me to remember that waiting on God is always worth it.

“But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him]
Will gain new strength and renew their power;
They will lift up their wings [and rise up close to God] like eagles [rising toward the sun];
They will run and not become weary,
They will walk and not grow tired.”
Isaiah 40:31 AMP

My a-ha moment was this: This journey of patience is often where I can have the most impact in my Christian life. If God instantly gave me what I wanted, I’d probably not stop to look around at what other people needed.

What if your waiting room season included this prayer:

“God, while I’m waiting, You have permission to work through me to help others.”

For example, if you’re waiting on God to bring back the prodigal in your life, you can invest in young people at your church or in your community. While you’re waiting on God for a baby or grandchild, you can volunteer at your local school or make meals for new parents. For someone like me who is praying for God to bring a future spouse, I began meeting with another single woman at our favorite ice cream stand once a month to pray for her. Letting God work through us while we’re waiting encourages us and actually makes us stronger during the wait.

Where has the waiting been heavy for you, my friend? God knows that your wait is hard, but don’t jump ahead just because you’re tired of waiting. I love this wisdom: “You can save a lot of time waiting on God.” 

Perhaps your prayer today could be: “God, while I’m waiting, please use me to make a difference. Work through me, God, for Your glory and my good. Amen.”

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His Faithfulness Washes Over the Desert of Your Heart

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The pen falls from my fingers and skitters across the floor as I jerk awake. I sigh — I’ve fallen asleep during my Bible study time. Again. Frustrated, I snatch up a new pen and struggle to find my place in the passage, only to drift away once more. After a few more moments of effort, I give up and grab my phone. I’m getting nowhere with Bible study . . . but if I send these text messages, at least that will be off my mind. 

Days pass, the pattern continues. I drag myself to the chair and open my Bible and my prayer journal, hoping that today will be the day I hear from Him. I wonder, What is wrong with me? Why is this once-sweet time now dry and stale?

I used to envision myself sitting with God, sharing with Him everything on my heart. Now, my mental picture has morphed, and God sits on a huge throne far away — unattainable, unreachable.

It seems that no matter how hard I try, I can’t find my way to a place where I feel connected to God. Everything is dry, desolate, barren. Desert-like. 

I remember a sermon series on Exodus and the pastor’s explanation that God often uses our time in the desert as a period of preparation for the next thing to come. So I pour myself into study, searching for some oasis to offer a gentle reprieve.

But nothing changes . . .

I call my friend, Jodi, remembering that she experienced something similar a few years back. Together, we recall her tearful phone call, her fears that she might never again feel the connection with God that she so desired. I ask what she did to find her way out of the desert.

Her response is both discouraging and encouraging. “Nothing changed,” she says, “but then everything did.” She tells me to keep going through the motions. Heart will follow mind, and the pursuit of relationship with the Father is a discipline.

The truth is, each time I pick up my phone instead of my Bible, I’ve already made the decision that I won’t find communion in the pages of His word. Jodi lets me know that she will be praying with and for me. She reads a short passage of Scripture over the phone and then prays those words back to God. 

And so I continue on . . .

Some days, it feels like slogging through mud, and I finish my study weary and discouraged. Other days, the reading goes quickly, and it feels as if the Scripture verses flit across the surface of my mind, only to disappear before really grasping them.  

As I wash the dishes, I listen to a playlist of songs centered on the faithfulness of God. Sometimes I sing along to “I Will Trust in You” by Lauren Daigle. On other days, my voice can’t fight past tears and I can only listen as “He Will Hold Me Fast” relates truths that don’t quite feel real. Sometimes I memorize verses about the goodness of God and repeat them to myself:

“Yet I am confident I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”
Psalm 27:13-14 (NLT)

When something resonates — a song that makes me feel a little closer to Him, or a moment where I feel communion with Him — I take note and write it in my prayer journal. Keeping a record of God’s faithfulness helps me realize that there are small drops of rain here, that this spiritual desert is not as dry as it seems.  

Weeks and months pass until, one day, I realize that my pen almost can’t keep up with the prayers I am writing. I have more to say to God than I have in so long. And when the words trickle to a stop, it occurs to me: There’s a quiet peace running under the desolation I so often feel.

That same week, during worship that Sunday, one of the songs connects with my heart in a new way, and I find myself singing it back to God throughout the week. I follow a breadcrumb trail of cross references and discover an old truth in a new way. Rather than forcing myself to spend a minimum of time seeking God, I anticipate the time I will spend with Him each morning, and I engage in a continuing conversation with Him that ebbs and flows throughout the remainder of the day.  

My Father’s faithfulness washes over me, refreshing my heart and bringing new life and new growth. As I pray, I imagine myself sitting beside Him in a meadow, a stream flowing nearby. 

How Much More . . .

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6 For while we were still helpless, at the right time, Christ died for the ungodly. 7 For rarely will someone die for a just person—though for a good person perhaps someone might even dare to die. 8 But God proves his own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 9 How much more then, since we have now been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from wrath. 10 For if, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, then how much more, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. 11 And not only that, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received this reconciliation.
Romans 5:6-11 CSB

How much more? That’s the question we ought to ask ourselves every time we’re prone to question God’s love or faithfulness or care. Every time with think we messed up too much or our problems are too big . . . asking “How much more?” will lead us back to this fundamental truth:

God already gave up what was most precious to Him — His very own Son. If God loved us THAT much, so much that He was willing to be separated from Jesus and allow Him to endure the weight of our sin and a brutal death as payment, all so we could be restored to a here-on-earth and forever-in-eternity relationship with Him, then truly there isn’t anything God wouldn’t do for us.

Let the beautiful weight of that sink in.

Where in your life do you need more of God’s goodness, more of His grace, more of His forgiveness, more of His strength?

Ask Him. Tell your Lord and Savior exactly what you need. Open your heart in surrender and trust in how much more He has for you.

 

How to Truly Rest in God

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The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
2     He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3     he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
    for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.
Psalm 23 NIV

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the dresser—no, through the dresser. My eyes are glazed over; I’m not really looking at anything. My shoulders sag, and my whole body feels as though I’m a wilting plant in need of sun and water.  

I’m exhausted.  

I’ve been saying yes to all the things that I can’t say no to — family obligations, mommy duties, household upkeep, and work deadlines. And then there are the yeses I say for my own well-being — therapy, life-giving friendships, time alone, church, mentoring. Throw in a celebration for someone’s birthday, a coffee date with a friend I haven’t seen in a while, or a visiting family member, and the calendar seems to explode at the seams, with no wiggle room even to breathe.  

And running in the back of my mind is the low-humming anxiety that I’ll drop the ball somewhere and won’t realize it until it’s too late. I can almost sense failure lurking around the corner, waiting for that ball to drop.  

I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. The slow, deliberate breathing wills my body and mind to settle down. I want to curl up like a baby and be carried away to somewhere quiet so I can rest, and closing my eyes, I imagine God doing this for me. I don’t have to hold or control everything so tightly when I’m held in His arms. I can relax. I can truly rest.  

I lie on my bed, where I hold my palms open to my sides and close my eyes again. By habit, these verses come to mind — the words embedded into the deepest parts of me since my childhood days of memorizing Bible verses for Sunday school: “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul” (Ps. 23:2–3). 

Imagining the water, the green, it feels like the space I’m in expands. I don’t have to be controlled by my to-do list. I don’t have to do all the things or meet with all the people, even if all those things would have been good or beneficial for me.  

I still need to do the things I need to do, but I look at the calendar with fresh eyes. I cancel meetings where I can. I choose only the absolutely necessary things to get done for the week. I talk with my husband about all the responsibilities I carry, and we hash out how we can better share the mental and physical loads.  

In small but decisive ways, I simplify my life. And more than that, I find rest for my soul in the sliver of the day where I pause to breathe, to imagine, and to say yes to God’s invitation to come and receive His rest.  

Devotion by Grace P. Cho as published in Courageous Simplicity: Abide in the Simple Abundance of Jesus

By trusting the Good Shepherd, we can experience the radical simplicity of peace, contentment, and courage. As the apostle Peter encourages us, “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you” (1 Pet. 5:7 NLT). Get a free week and learn more about the Courageous Simplicity Bible study!

 

The Danger of Believing “This Is as Good as It Gets”

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One of the first fights my boyfriend (eventually my husband) and I had was in a mall parking lot.

We had been dating for a few months and were enjoying a low-key afternoon of shopping when out of nowhere he wanted to “talk.” I knew it wasn’t a break-up talk because things had been going so well. We were in love and slightly obsessed with each other. It turned out that the “talk” wasn’t to slow down our relationship but to speed things up. He casually broached the subject of our future and I backed away. I was bothered.

Of course I wanted to marry him . . . but not now, not when things were so good. We exited the mall and moved into the parking lot where I proceeded to shut down and weirdly navigate a conversation I didn’t want to be in.

If things are good, inevitably I believe bad things are coming. Call it self-sabotage or pessimism, but I have always had a hard time believing that anything could possibly be better than right now. If something is going well, why mess with it?

Maybe it’s better to say it this way — I am not good at change.

I desperately cling to the moment I am in and live in fear of what tomorrow holds. I didn’t want to move out of dating and into engagement. I didn’t want to move into the season of motherhood because I was afraid everything would only get worse. I resisted having baby number 2 (and 3, 4, and 5, for that matter) because I was convinced nothing could ever be better than the current life I had created. 

Months before my son took his driver’s license test, I couldn’t sleep. My fear was less about him getting in an accident and more about how this would change our family. I was convinced that this would change everything. I can’t control what happens next which makes me want to try and control everything even more. 

Time has a tight grip on me. The tick and turn of time feels like a death sentence rather than the click and twist of a beautiful kaleidoscope. Time scares me and I can’t slow it down. I can’t make it stop. 

When I look back on my life, I see all the times I’ve tried to cling to life for control. But  I think God is inviting me to cling to Him instead. I cling to time for security, but I think God is inviting me to cling to the hope of heaven instead. When I pay attention to all the seasons I have been through, I realize that I believed a lie.

The lie was, “This is as good as it gets.” I believed that right now was the best my life would ever be. 

But the truth is right now is good, but something better is coming. After every change, good came. Grief and hardship were present, but so was new joy and new freedom. Right now is good, but God promises more goodness is still to come. 

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”
1 Corinthians 13:12

My life, my kids, my family, my world is good, but everything I have is just a sliver of what is to come. I want to hold time down because I am afraid that the future will only bring heartache. 

There will certainly be pain in the future, but there will also be heaven. 

The future isn’t something I have to resist or push off, it is something God is giving me. Life right now is just an appetizer. It is a foretaste of what is to come.

I refuse to believe the lie anymore that right now is as good as it gets. Right now I am going to savor and give thanks for all I have been given, but I won’t grab onto these gifts with a death grip. That path of trying to cling to my life only leads to more fear. It’s true that I will encounter challenges ahead. But it is also true that behind every corner, love awaits me. 

For those of you letting go of one season and heading into something unknown and new, lean into truth. Lean onto Jesus. Open your hands. Goodness awaits you. It really does. 

 

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God Isn’t the One Stressing You Out

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Earlier this year I started working at the library. Immediately, time began moving faster.

When customers check out books, in most cases they have 28 days before the books are due back at the library. This means that every time I check out a book for someone, I hand it back to them and say (for example), “This will be due back on September 15th.”

And every single time our due dates slip into the next month, I feel it like a punch in the gut.

So many things make it hard to keep track of time, and so many things make time feel like it’s moving faster every day. Job changes, growing children, pandemics, vacations — good and bad things all steal my sense of time, yanking it right out of my hands.

After working part-time (and mostly from home) for a dozen years, I transitioned into a full-time position at the library this month. Now, on top of being reminded that September is right around the corner, just a quick book check-out away, my calendar is fuller than ever.

In the weeks leading up to this new position, I considered the changes coming my way, my evolving relationship with time, and my struggle to fit in all the things at any cost. That’s when I began hearing a voice in my mind chanting: “Redeem the time, redeem the time, redeem the time.”

Cue the anxiety! Cue staring at the ceiling when I’m supposed to be sleeping, staring out the window when I’m supposed to be writing, staring at my phone when I’m supposed to be present with my family, staring at my calendar, and wondering why I can’t breathe.

(Apparently, my version of anxiety comes with a lot of staring.)

That voice I heard urging me to stop wasting time, urging me to make another list, create a menu of quick, healthy meals, read more to my kids, focus on my new job, and find time to get on the treadmill . . . I thought that voice was God. I thought God was reminding me of Scripture that encourages us to make the most of the relatively little time we have on earth.

“Be very careful, then, how you live — not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.”
Ephesians 5:15-16

I thought, for a while, that God was stressing me out. Or, more accurately, I thought He was making His expectations clear and exhorting me to work harder to meet them — no matter how hard it would be.

But that’s not how God works or who He is.

While He is perfect, God is not a perfectionist who expects us to be perfect. He knows well that we cannot be! He knows our limits and rather than hate them (or hate us for them), He promises to love us and help us. And when He reminds us that our days are short and advises us to redeem the time we’ve been given, He’s not dropping an oversized backpack of responsibilities over our shoulders. He’s not chaining us to a calendar or to-do list or some ideal version of ourselves while pointing to a ticking clock. He’s offering us a hand up, a light yoke that shares the burden. He’s offering us relief — from the rapid passage of time, from the ever-growing list of expectations we subscribe to, from the belief that we must make everything priority-one and cram it all into 24 hours a day.

No matter how open or full your calendar or to-do list is, I suspect you might have heard that chant of “redeem the time” as well. But when it comes to our time and how we use it, I think God is offering us more than a warning that the time is short.

He’s reminding us to walk in wisdom and to be intentional with our resources. He’s reassuring us that the troubles and anxieties of this world won’t last forever. And He’s encouraging us to let go of the things that don’t matter in order to make room for the ones that do. Most of all, He’s reaching toward us in love to hold up our arms when they get tired and to bear the weight of all our concerns.

If you find yourself hearing a little (or a loud) voice chanting, “Redeem the time,” and it feels like a judgment or a threat or a kick in the shins, remember who God really is. He is our Creator and Father, the One who knows everything about us and how much time (and energy and ability and motivation and perseverance) we actually have. He is the One who loves us unconditionally and who promises to lighten our load, not multiply it. And right now, whether it feels like our days are dragging or flying by, He is constantly and actively redeeming our time and us.

“Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.”
Psalm 130:7

 

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