Lake Days, Stormy Skies, and Learning to Trust God for Tomorrow

Lake Days, Stormy Skies, and Learning to Trust God for Tomorrow

by

We’d planned to spend the entire day at the lake as a family. With three teenagers still living at home, each with a different job and work schedule, finding a single day when all of us were available to go to the lake together wasn’t easy. It took planning and determination.

But, by some minor miracle, the stars — and our calendars — aligned. We found a day that worked for all of us. And so we scheduled it, promising that nothing short of Jesus’ return would come between us and the lake.

Finally, the day arrived. We jumped out of bed like kids on Christmas, teenagers and adults alike. With a glance out the window, I noticed the early morning sky boasted the most brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight. Even so, to be certain, I pulled out my phone and double-checked the day’s forecast:

Uh-oh.

Sunshine until noon. Then severe thunderstorms starting at 1:00 pm, lasting throughout the remainder of the day. That meant by the time we packed coolers and beach bags, and then drove to the lake, we’d have only an hour or two to enjoy the sunshine and each other before we’d need to call it a day. Maybe less.

My heart sank with disappointment. Was it worth so much effort if our lake day ended up shortened by storms? Should we wait and see, maybe try for a different day? But I knew that was nearly impossible. And summer was quickly coming to an end.

This left us with a dilemma. Risk it and hope for the best? Or throw in the towel and stay home out of fear of the worst?

After a quick family huddle, we decided to give it a go. Sure, storms would likely blow in, and we might only have an hour or two. But we decided we’d rather enjoy the morning together than miss out on it altogether.

So that’s what we did. We packed up, drove to the lake, and spent an amazing morning tubing and waterskiing and enjoying all kinds of shenanigans on the lake. We saw the clouds begin to roll in late morning, but we didn’t slow our frolicking a bit. We just kept enjoying the time we had, relishing every moment, knowing we had no control over whether or not the rain would come.

Guess what happened?

Nothing. That’s right, nothing. No thunderstorms, no rain. Although we had an hour of overcast skies, the entire storm system moved to the south at the last minute. And the sun came out shining bright on the other side. An ominous forecast turned into a full day of family fun on the lake. And we all looked at each other with faces filled with grins: I’m so glad we didn’t stay home! Today was perfect! 

I’ve thought about this a lot since that day. How sometimes you and I allow the forecast of a possible future disappointment to rob us of the goodness of today. Yes, of course, it’s important to use wisdom and discernment when making decisions. And sometimes it’s a far better decision to play it safe and wait for another day, another season, another opportunity.

But far too often we get a glimpse of a potential catastrophe and, as a result, we hole up inside, eyes on the sky, heart tied up in knots, fearful of a future that may or may not happen. A failed relationship, an unexpected diagnosis, a potential rejection, or a professional failure. Desperate to avoid future pain, we also miss out on today’s pleasure — God’s present goodness to us right here, right now, exactly where we are.

I think this is what Jesus meant when He urged us to take our lives one day at a time:

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
Matthew 6:34

Ours is a Father whose posture toward us is love. He is for us, not against us. He is with us, not indifferent towards us. The same God who keeps His eye on the sparrow and the sun, the sea and the squirrel, knows you by name, dear daughter. He sees you, exactly where you are. And although storms will come from time to time, He wants you to trust Him enough for the future to live fully open to His goodness today.

Yes, wisdom may require you to reschedule your day at the lake. But never forget: Put your faith in the Father, not a forecast. And let the unexpected warmth of His countenance shine bright on you today, regardless of what may or may not come tomorrow.

 

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

Is God Still Good When It Feels Like You’re Being Ripped Off?

by

I love summer in New England. Let’s be honest, I love any season in New England. But something happens when the snow melts and things start to bloom and it gives way to average temperatures in the high 70’s. The beaches are full and outdoor seating feels like the right choice. We spend our weekends walking outside and eating more ice cream than we should (in fact, New England eats more ice cream than any part of the country) and I can never get over the beauty of this place.

Maybe it’s the iconic shoreline or harbors or the marsh or the way that I feel like I’m living in a Lands’ End Catalogue. But whatever magic rises to the surface and touches everything in the summertime, I am here for it.

Last year, there was a drought. Our once-a-week-or-so rain just didn’t show up. Yards got brown and it felt like the coolness that once settled on the area just didn’t exist. Still, we managed with our beach days and walks and lobster rolls. But this year? It won’t. stop. raining.

I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to remind myself we need the rain. But parties are being canceled and events are getting moved and plans are constantly changing because sometimes it rains for ten days in a row. And while that might be helpful in the long run, it’s really cramping my summer style. I do not like this much rain.

Honestly? It feels like I’m missing out. Like I’m being ripped off. Like I’m getting the scraps or this season is a wash. That I was a fool to hope that things wouldn’t change and maybe it’s best if I don’t get my hopes up that summer can be magic. Why would I ever believe that things can work out?

Or maybe, that’s just my heart bringing deep-rooted fears to the surface. And it’s not about the rain, but what it represents.

Why hope that rain will stop when it just keeps raining? Why make a plan for the beach when it’s just going to change? Why hope for things to go right when I’ve been proven wrong over and over again? I am at the mercy of nature and my nature is not to believe for good things. It is my nature to be guarded and slow to hope.

So when summer arrives and I, someone who might just be solar-powered, am met with rain and cloudy days? I feel a part of my heart go numb. I sense a bit of myself shrivel up. I sit inside and get quiet and find myself frustrated. I abandon hope.

The Bible is full of barren women and wayward children and exhausted parents and broken marriages. It is a chronicle of shattered hopes in the things that once made people feel safe or certain. I think of Naomi who, when her husband and two sons die, says that she left her hometown full (with a family) and God brought her back empty. She calls herself bitter. She refuses to hope.

Still, God provides for her and cares for her. Even in her loss, she is seen. Even in her lack, she is fed. Even when she renames herself Mara (which means bitterness), the book keeps calling her Naomi because her identity is not the bitterness she has encountered.

Yesterday, it stormed. Today, it’s sunny. And tomorrow it will storm again. But by the grace of God, I keep clinging to this truth: God is good. And He does not change. So He could not be better if I had a sunny, dry summer. He could not be better if everything went the way I wanted. This rainy, stormy summer is His good plan in action.

My prayer for the next month or two is to wake up in the morning and dare to hope that good things happen indoors and under umbrellas. That friendship can still grow and community can still be built and Scripture can still bring me home. Because my hope is built on nothing less than the goodness of God, rain or shine.

 

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

Embracing Your True Self in an Image-Driven World

by

Between social media, society, the workplace, and even family, it’s all too easy for us to begin shaping our identity around who we think others want us to be. We may sabotage our actual needs, convictions, and aspirations, or hide parts of ourselves in hesitation of whether or not others will approve of us.

When was the last time you paused and thought about what part of you is aligned with who God created you to be, and what narratives might have been constructed by the expectation of your surroundings?

Narratives, from a psychological perspective, are the stories that we live out every day, the core beliefs that shape our self-identity. They help us understand who we are, where we come from, and where we’re going. We take on narratives about what it means to be a good mom. Narratives about what it means to be successful and significant. Narratives about how much our voice matters and what we’re capable of doing. Narratives about our worth and value.

For example, we may have bought into the cultural narrative that life is all about working and hustling and we end up running ourselves into the ground without having any outside life or meaningful relationships. Maybe we saw a parent operate this way and this example became our framework for how life should be lived. We may have assumed the narrative that we’re unlovable or easy to leave because of heartbreak or abandonment from our past, which now creates anxiety in relationships. Maybe there’s a passion or dream we feel called to pursue, but we’re living under the narrative that someone like us isn’t capable of such things, so we succumb to doubt and limiting beliefs. A modern narrative is the idea that you’re as significant as the number of social media followers you have, how many likes you get, or the size of a platform you have online.

But what if you were able to pause long enough to break away from these outer voices and pressures, to reconnect with yourself and God, to start getting clear about what is truly aligned with your makeup, your personality, your passions, your true self, and ultimately, God’s narrative for you? When was the last time you really thought about what played a role in creating your narrative, and how it has shaped the way you live today?

Why is this important to talk about? We have to understand that we weren’t born as a blank slate. We were born into narratives that were already at play in society, in our families, and our culture. If we don’t recognize those narratives, they’ll impact our lives and we won’t even realize that we’re living in a story created by someone else. The therapeutic work of breaking the cycle of harmful beliefs or choices in our own family, culture, and world begins with awareness of the stories you were assimilated into, why they exist, and what it would look like to participate in an alternative storyline for yourself.

Because to break unhealthy cycles, a new story must be lived out.

We can reframe a new narrative to create a new reality that we can then pass down, healing not only ourselves but the cycle of those walking with us and those who come up behind us. Here’s how:

1. God’s Narrative for You.
We can see down to our fingerprints that we are uniquely designed. To our current knowledge, no human fingerprint is the same. Even identical twins don’t have the same fingerprints! We are a unique combination of our genes, our biology, our experiences, our personality, our physical features, etc. In Isaiah 64:8, we’re reminded that God is the potter and we are the clay, intentionally formed by His hands in a specific way. Ephesians 2:10 defines a universal truth about our identity and that we were ultimately God’s handiwork created for good works. What is God’s narrative about your true nature? That you are loved, purposed, redeemed, called. Anything we tell ourselves that doesn’t align with who God says we are is a false narrative.

Reflect: What are some false narratives you’ve assumed about yourself versus what God’s narrative is for you?

2. Signs of Your True Self.
I truly believe that God gives us indicators of our identity that are embodied and even visceral — you can feel it. I like to call these markers of grace. When you’re graced for something, it’s out of your doing and out of your control. It’s the way you’re wired and a natural part of how God made you. The things you naturally get excited about, the things you’re passionate about and that make you feel alive and fulfilled aren’t an accident. Pay attention to these moments; they point you toward your authentic makeup and the way you’re wired. This is God’s grace in your life.

Reflect: What are some things you’ve noticed that make you feel alive and fulfilled?

3. Live out a New Story.
Reflect on what a meaningful life actually looks like to you, even if it looks different than others. What would it look like to live out a narrative that’s aligned with what works with who you are and how you’re wired? This is one reason why Sabbath rest is so important. It gives us the space and time to pause all movement so we can think intentionally about our direction in life.

Reflect: What does it look like to start living out a new narrative that’s aligned with how you’re made?

This article is written by Brittney Moses, author of Known: An Inspirational Journal for Self-Discovery.

—

There are plenty of books and journals out there about “finding yourself” and “discovering who you really are.” But few of them point to the truth of Who made us and what He says about us. In Known: An Inspirational Journal for Self-Discovery, author Brittney Moses offers you the chance to discover your true identity from a Christ-centered point of view. It’s so easy to get caught up in codependency or placing value on roles in life. But when everything else fades away, you don’t have to feel lost or get stuck in disillusionment.

As in her devotion above, Brittney guides Known journalers to grace-filled truth, inspiring them with prompts and helping them uncover their God-given uniqueness along the way. 

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

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

 

Listen to today’s article at the player below or wherever you stream pods!

A Glimpse of Heaven: What Children Teach Us About the Joy of Living

by

Throughout the summer, a rag-tag group of 10-year-old boys gathered on the field, buzzing in the dugout that this would be the game they’d finally win.

Loss after loss, they smeared eye black on their cheeks like major leaguers, laced up their beat-up cleats, and donned their sand-stained hats. They kept showing up and smacking each other on the back, only to suffer the heartbreak of yet another strikeout, yet another loss.

As parents like me shlepped water coolers and baseball bats down to the field one last time, I found myself feeling a little disappointed on their behalf.

They were trying their best. They’d improved so much! Couldn’t they catch a break?

I hunkered down into my lawn chair, ready to cheer them on. To everyone’s surprise, the team gained momentum. Player after player crossed home plate. I marveled at their resilience. I glanced at the scoreboard. It was finally happening! They were winning!

Until they weren’t.

The first baseman fumbled. A couple of players struck out. The pitcher had more walks than strikes.

Summer sunlight turned to dusk as ballpark lights flickered on. With a score of 8-9, the other team was up to bat to polish off the last half of the inning of the last game of the season. The crowd whispered, wondering who the coach would put in to pitch in this high-stakes scenario. Whoever it was, could he hold the other team off and prevent them from scoring? 

Could he pitch through the pressure?

My eyes grew wide as my son walked onto the mound.

He looked so small, so serious.

I’m not Catholic, but at that moment, I may have just channeled my dear Catholic friends and crossed myself. I uttered every iteration of every prayer I could think of – not that they would win, but that my son wouldn’t put too much pressure on himself.

The stands held a collective breath.

Strike.

Strike.

Strike.

You don’t have to know much about baseball to know that’s a good thing. Soon, they had two outs under their belt – just one more to go. They were so close to winning they could taste it.

And then – a hit from the other team. The player made his way to third base. He was so close to home plate he could taste it.

There was a full count – three walks, two strikes. Another walk would mean the player on third would score. I saw my son wipe his brow, take a deep breath, and wind up.

Str-iiiiike!

The game was over.

Our Bad News Bears team had WON AN ACTUAL GAME!

The roar of kids screaming and laughing, dancing and cheering filled the neighborhood ballpark. Kids flooded the field as they scooped each other up.

To them, they’d won the World Series.

The sweaty, stinky kids were overcome with emotion. Pure joy filled their eyes with tears. They didn’t care about looking a certain kind of way in front of anyone else. It was genuine elation, an uninhibited celebration.

I tell you this story not because I’m necessarily super into sports – or that you have to be, either.

No, I tell you this story because these kids taught me – and can maybe teach you – something about the unabashed, unashamed joy of a child.

As we journey through life and experience many losses of our own, we can start to hedge our emotions – tamper down our experiences of joy, stifle the emotions we can barely put words to.

But what if, in that masking of self, we are also preventing ourselves from experiencing the joy God has given us? What if, in our hopes of not being “too much,” in our efforts of being “put together,” we are missing gifts from God?

What if our inhibitions are blocking us from experiencing the full spectrum of what it is to be human, what it is to be a beloved child of God?

In 1 Peter 1:8, we’re told that even though there’s so much that we can not fathom about Jesus, we can be “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.” Notice we’re not told to expect “a grown-up measure of whatever emotion you think is socially acceptable.”

Expressing joy is not weak. It’s part of the life of faith. In Nehemiah 8:10, we’re reminded that the joy of the Lord is our strength.

The kids at the ballpark weren’t thinking about who might be watching them or judging them. They weren’t caught up in anything but being present in the moment.

I wonder, when was the last time you…

Laughed until you cried?

Let yourself fully feel your emotions without needing to package them neatly up for the sake of others?

Found yourself lost in the moment?

Rejoiced – fully – unabashed and unashamed?

Were enchanted by the goodness of God?

It may be a bit cliche, but life does give us a fair share of curveballs. We don’t always know what’s going to happen – or why. We experience loss. We grieve, and we lament. And that is all a sacred part of a life of faith. But that’s not the only part of the story. As believers, we are also welcomed into joy – and joy abundant.

We can throw off what inhibits us or entangles us, as we see in Hebrews 12. We are free to cry as we laugh, to celebrate fully alongside each other.

When I watched that mix of little leaguers embrace each other –  laughing and crying until the eye black melted down their cheeks – I saw the sweetness of the family of God rejoicing, overcome with goodness. Was it heaven? No, but it was a little glimpse of it, right on our little ball field in Iowa.

And now that I think of it, I guess that classic line from the movie The League of Their Own got it wrong.

There is crying in baseball.

And in life. 

Thank God for that.

 

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

It’s Our Joy to Pray for You

by

“Every time I think of you, I give thanks to my God. Whenever I pray, I make my requests for all of you with joy, for you have been my partners in spreading the Good News about Christ from the time you first heard it until now. And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.

So it is right that I should feel as I do about all of you, for you have a special place in my heart. You share with me the special favor of God, both in my imprisonment and in defending and confirming the truth of the Good News. God knows how much I love you and long for you with the tender compassion of Christ Jesus.

I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep on growing in knowledge and understanding. For I want you to understand what really matters, so that you may live pure and blameless lives until the day of Christ’s return.”
Philippians 1:3-10

YOU, dear (in)courage reader, have a special place in our hearts. We think of you. We give thanks for you. And it is truly our joy to pray for you.

Today we are praying Paul’s words above, from his letter to the Philippians, over you. We pray that your love for Jesus and others will overflow more and more. We pray that you will keep growing in knowledge and understanding of who God is, how much He loves you, and His desires for your life. We pray you will know and stay focused on what really matters. Jesus is coming back, sister! We don’t know when but we know that whatever troubles we face today are not the end of the story.

How else can we pray for you today? 

Lift a fellow (in) sister up by praying for the woman who leaves a comment before you.

You are so loved!

 

Give Thanks to the Giver

by

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good.
His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the God of gods.
His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords:
His love endures forever.

to him who alone does great wonders,
His love endures forever.
who by his understanding made the heavens,
His love endures forever.
who spread out the earth upon the waters,
His love endures forever.
who made the great lights—
His love endures forever.
the sun to govern the day,
His love endures forever.
the moon and stars to govern the night;
His love endures forever.
Psalm 136:1-9

I sat with my hands folded, struggling to maintain composure as I listened to the worship team sing, “Give thanks with a grateful heart.” Truthfully, my heart felt far from grateful and more like a chunk of cheese — sliced, diced, and shredded down to the core. It was a hard season. One that thrusts you into the hands of the Father — clinging, begging, trusting, because you have no other option.

Have you been there too? The term “give thanks” sounds easy, doesn’t it? If we were to simply remember everything God has done for us, then this attitude of gratitude should be effortless. Easy peasy. Just give thanks. Sounds a little glib if you ask me. Gratefulness doesn’t always work that way.

True thankfulness is rooted deep. It’s not something that magically appears on our tongues.

Rather, it’s a response of the heart. It’s a rendering of praise for who is behind it all — the good, the bad, the hard. And that’s a wee bit problematic because we don’t always like what’s been going on.

In Psalm 136, we’re reminded not only of who God is but also of what He has done. He is the “God of gods” and the “Lord of lords.” He is over all. He is the one true God. But this declaration doesn’t make Him a distant God. Quite the opposite. Every verse has this powerful refrain reminding us of His kind and comforting love — a love that goes on and on, covering His people and covering our sins. Oh, what mercy! Oh, what grace! How can we not give thanks?

This compelling psalm challenges us to remember creation and all its glory, to look back and soak in the wonder of the making of the heavens and the spreading of the waters. It beckons us to reminisce about the richness of His love from the depths of history — the astounding exodus out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and into the wilderness. A miraculous escape like none other.

This isn’t another laborious account of deliverance, but a glorious reflection of His might where God acted on behalf of His people. He is a God who provides and makes a way where there seems to be no way. For that, we can surely give thanks.

It is with this foundation of remembrance that our hearts are called to respond. We give because He has given. Oh, so much! Our gratitude becomes a beautiful offering, conveying our gratefulness to the Giver of life as an expression of our love. Let’s respond wholeheartedly, echoing this chorus of adoration: “His faithful love endures forever.” Let’s dole out thanks from the depths of our souls for all He is, for all He has done, and for all He has yet to do — even when circumstances are less than ideal and our hearts feel a bit like cheese.

This devotion is by Anne-Renee Gumley, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It has been edited from its original form.

—

On Saturdays this summer, we’re sharing our favorite Psalms + select devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible. We’re loving our summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms with you!

A Back to School Prayer for Teachers (+ a back to school sale!)

by

As far back as I can remember, teachers have played a significant role in my life.

In second grade, Mrs. Barber invited me to an after-school poetry club, instilling a love of alliteration and rhyme in my eight-year-old soul. In fifth grade, Mrs. Ball could tell something was wrong when I normally got straight A’s but flunked a history test. She kept me in at recess and hugged me as the stress of my parent’s divorce leaked out in weighty tears.

In middle school, Mrs. Lunsford encouraged my imagination and said yes every time I proposed a new way of doing an assignment, like making up a song about the thirteen colonies. In high school, Mr. Allison modeled a true passion for literature and deep care for his students. He wrote in my yearbook that I could be the next Hemingway or Fitzgerald or whomever I wanted to be. And in graduate school, Dr. Bentz came alongside me on my journey as an aspiring author, generously sharing both knowledge and encouragement as I began my publishing journey.

Each of these teachers saw me. And I thank God for each one.

Now, as a mom of three kids, my gratitude for kind, enthusiastic, passionate, and skilled teachers has continued to grow. I’m grateful for Mrs. Halbert who saw my son’s reading challenges and provided the extra support we needed. I think of Mr. Vigil who celebrated my other son’s out-of-the-box thinking — making space for his wiggles and quirks instead of trying to stuff them in a hard chair. I’m thankful for Mrs. Cliffe who loved each student as if they were her own, and was intentional to call out the strengths in my other son — strengths I hadn’t yet seen.

And those are just a few highlights from my life in the classroom as both a student and parent. Highlights that don’t begin to acknowledge the long hours and endless creativity teachers pour out. Highlights that don’t speak to the lows of discipline issues and budget cuts, hard mornings and grueling afternoons and nights spent grading papers and planning lessons at the cost of time with their own families.

Yes, teachers are amazing, imperfect, profoundly important people — who need our prayers.

Whether you send your kids to public school or private school, or you choose to educate them at home in an organized schoolroom or messy living room, make a commitment to pray for your child’s teacher…even if that’s you! And if you don’t have kids, your prayers are still needed! Think back to the teacher who made an impact on your life, or perhaps the kind of teacher you needed but never had. Join me in praying for them:

Dear God,

Thank you for teachers. Thank you for the individuals who spend their lives nurturing and investing in the next generation. As teachers’ days begin again to be marked by bell schedules and lesson plans, would you mark their hearts with love, patience, and enthusiasm for their students?

Bless each teacher with the ability to see the good — the best — in each child. Enable them to encourage and equip every student to reach their full potential. Help teachers inspire a love for learning and instill confidence in each child in their capacity to grow.

Prepare each teacher for the challenges they will face. Lord, empower them to be emotional counselors, conflict diffusers, hope givers, and prayer warriors.

As teachers pour themselves out each day over essays and equations, ABCs and 123s, pour Yourself into them. Give them an abundance of hope, courage, wisdom, and joy. Gift them with parents and helpers, colleagues and administrators who champion their efforts and encourage their calling.

As teachers go back to school, Lord, grant them lavish grace for the tasks at hand. Beyond district benchmarks or state standards, help our teachers to work diligently and love their students well as unto You.

Bless this school year and bless each person who wears the beautiful and noble badge of Teacher.

Amen.

“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Philippians 1:3 (NIV)

Get ready for a faith-filled school year with DaySpring’s collection of Back-to-School essentials! From planners and notebooks to notepads and desk decor, find everything your students need to stay organized and inspired throughout the school year. AND this week, you can save up to 25% on a curated collection of items with code SCHOOL25. Shop today!

Share your back-to-school prayer or tell us about a teacher who impacted you! Let’s thank God together!

 

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

I Dare You to Stay Curious Until the End

by

I am in a rocking chair, watching the sunrise while nestled in the quiet of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I look out, captivated by the hazy horizon of rolling hills. Along the walking paths that surround, I see daisies, black-eyed Susans, and all the many wildflowers scattered about, here in Little Switzerland, North Carolina.

I was supposed to come here three years ago in July 2020 before the world shut down, before everything twinkled out under the wind of Covid-19. I’d won a diversity scholarship and had been awarded a fully funded, week-long stay for a writing retreat that was to be held here. This writing retreat has been running for about thirty years, I’m told, and it is rich with a timeline of its own traditions and tales.

They call it the magic mountain, up here. When I first stepped foot on campus, I dragged my suitcase and shouldered a book bag heavier than what my back could handle. I arrived nervous, with all my clothes and all my questions. All my writing notebooks and all my notions of how I thought the week might play out.

Within minutes of arriving, I wondered if I would be the youngest one there. I wondered what on earth gave me the courage to come to this place and confess all my tantalizing thoughts about writing fiction. Who am I to be here? I asked myself. Who am I to dare dream this place might speak into the path I sense I should be on?

I’ve been here for almost a week, days folding in and out of themselves. Each day, I walk from class to class and sit around long tables, and workshop creative pieces alongside my peers. And with each passing day, my questions, insecurities, and hesitations fade. My apprehension grows smaller and smaller as these new relationships drive deeper and deeper. Then, I realize: Learning about new people and places helps me love new people and places.

One evening, after having completed my classes for the day, a woman with silver strands in her hair tells me, “It’s important to stay curious until the end.” Her words hang in my head, suspended like stars dangling in the dark of a night sky. I got to thinking about how this is true of all life — how curiosity is the fuel that feeds our compassion. Curiosity, after all, is what brought me to this retreat.

As I think back through the years, I see a thread of curiosity woven throughout the chapters of my life.

Curiosity is what compels me to walk city sidewalks in search of restaurants with foods foreign to my tastebuds. It’s what’s taken me across the world, traveling to Quito and Puerto Vallarta and Lübeck and Ahrensburg. Curiosity is what whispers to me to lean towards my husband with longing in the many moments when we don’t see eye to eye. It’s the deep-down desire to seek out the good in others, the good in all things, even when the world seems to offer anything but.

“Stay curious until the end,” she says — and those words will forever stain in my soul. I want them to hang in my heart forever. I want to always be a student of life — always learning, always going low to hear the lesson in the lilies, the sermon in the stories, the hope in the heartache held out with human hands. I want to stay a seeker — of beauty and wonder. Of loving my neighbors. Of God and the countless ways He keeps this heavy world suspended among the bright stars.

Far be it from me to think I know it all.

Far be it from me to think I’ve seen it all.

Far be it from me to think I’m the only one who has something to offer.

Far be it from me to think I’ve ever arrived.

I’m beginning to pack up to leave this retreat now, but I sense this thread of truth will continue to be unpacked within me for weeks to come. As I leave this magical mountain, here is what will never leave me:

Curiosity is the fuel that feeds our compassion. And compassion is the gateway to seeing and serving the ones around you. And I want to be that always. I want to be the one who stays curious and compassionate until the very end.

Don’t you?

 

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

It’s Not Your Job to Change Your Family

by

I breathed in slowly through my nose, the way I always do when trying to stay calm. My hands gripped the kitchen counter like my life depended on it, turning my knuckles pale white. It was all I could do to try and keep it together; to not say something I would regret.

It had been less than two hours since our families had gotten together. Less than two hours before the first tense moment rippled through us, bringing a screeching halt to the conversations and putting everyone on edge.

I wasn’t even surprised when it happened.

It was the same old behaviors. The same complaints and sharp tongues. The same people bursting into tears. It was like watching a horror scene from a movie in slow motion, knowing that something horrible was about to happen, but still unable to do anything about it.

I’m usually on the periphery of these outbursts; the outsider, looking in. I watch in silence, thoughts whipping through me like a raging storm: Should I step in? Should I try to “help”? What would I say? What if I made things worse? Why is my family like this?

Families can be difficult. That’s probably the understatement of the year. But it’s true. Sometimes, I wake up and wonder, How is it that the people I have spent most of my life with can be so different from me? Or, perhaps the question I should be asking is, Why am I so different from the rest of my family?

It’s amazing that people who practically spend 24/7 with each other can come to have dialectically opposing personalities, political views, theological stances, parenting philosophies, and lifestyle choices.

There can be such heartache in families. Frustration that our families are trying to change us. The grief of not being accepted for who we are. There’s constant bickering, trying to get the other person to think or behave more like us.

Constantly trying to change each other is a recipe for disaster, and a good excuse to avoid family get-togethers during the holidays.

But something I’ve learned over the years is that my job is not to change my family; it’s to point them to the Change Maker.

In Ezekiel 36:26-27, God says, “I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.”

The way God compels people to change is like a gentle current, like the breeze on a cool autumn day. His Spirit guides and nudges us, slowly tuning our hearts toward Him, and toward the goodness of His ways.

Most often changing a person’s heart from stone cold to warm and pliable takes time. Whether it’s realizing they need help or choosing not to say hurtful things; whether it’s turning from a life of sin or being open to new ideas, change in a person will be measured by the course of decades, not months, and certainly not minutes.

Nevertheless, the power to change a person is God’s and God’s alone. Not mine.

Knowing that it’s not my job to change my family is liberating. When I’m with my family, I don’t need to win arguments or put someone in their place. I’m not trying to be the smartest person in the room. I don’t need to be that annoying family member who harps on someone over and over until I’m beating a dead horse with my advice.

My job is simply to love and encourage my family in ways that align with Scripture. The last thing I want is to communicate that I will only love them if they act and think like me. Making our family feel like our love is conditional based on their level of transformation does not represent the heart of God.

So now, in moments of family conflict, I try doing the following:

  • I try to make sure everyone involved feels heard and understood.
  • I work toward helping everyone feel acknowledged and validated for their views or feelings.
  • I remind my family that they love each other and are on the same team.
  • I share a Bible verse that would encourage someone and make them feel empowered.
  • I ask how I can pray for them.

It’s much easier to love our families just as they are when we see ourselves as cheerleaders instead of coaches. We’re not trying to make them more like us. We’re trying to gently, lovingly point our family toward Christ, and trust that He will bring about His good work in them according to His perfect timing.

 

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

Pray: Daily Moments to Quiet Your Mind and Center Your Soul

by

Then He said to His disciples, “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap, which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds? And which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature? If you then are not able to do the least, why are you anxious for the rest?”
Luke 12:22-26

What are you in need of right now? Is it material? Is it physical? Emotional? All of us regularly experience the need for something.

Some needs might be more urgent, and some might be more long-term.

Thankfully, God knows our needs and wants to meet them. His desire is for us to experience life to the full through Him. But how do we learn to trust God to meet each of our needs and not live with panic and worry when we face scarcity?

Take a minute to calm your heart. Go to the place where you feel most at ease and relaxed. Find yourself a comfortable position. Close your eyes. Breathe easy. Prepare your heart for prayer and imagine the tension in your body unwinding and the anxiety in your head and heart slowly decreasing.

In the Scripture passage above, Jesus mentions how the creatures He created have no need to worry about how they will survive each day because He feeds them. When we get in our heads too much about our material needs, we lose our focus on the Provider. And you are infinitely more precious and valuable to God than the animals He created, so He will provide richly for you! You are the crowning glory of His creative masterpiece.

God is asking you to trust Him to provide for you. Worry won’t change your circumstances, and it will steal your peace and your joy. Today, you can be confident in God and in His provision. He lovingly cares for the flowers and birds He created — and He’ll care for you with even more love and attention.

PRAYER
God, I praise You because You supply all my needs. I sing praises to Your name, for You hold the universe in the palm of Your hand. I worship You because You lovingly care for Your creation. Sometimes the pressures of my daily life distort what matters most to me. Lord, please forgive me for chasing after things that don’t bring me closer to You. Help me to long for You alone.

Thank You for guiding me through seasons of anxiety and restlessness. You are so good, and Your mercy endures from generation to generation. Thank You for sustaining me and providing for my needs. Thank You for taking care of me and my loved ones. You give us all we need. You are here with me, and You are listening.

Even when I’m overwhelmed, help me to not give up.

Help me lean on You during hard times and trials. Help me push past the mundane and unending demands of life. Give me faith to trust in You to care for me. Amen.

This is an excerpt from Pray.com’s new devotional, Pray: Daily Moments to Quiet Your Mind and Center Your Soul.

—

Building a habit of prayer can help calm anxiety and silence fears, bring peace regardless of your circumstances, and help you refocus your attention on God’s glorious plan for your life.

Pray: Daily Moments to Quiet Your Mind and Center Your Soul is a collection of Pray.com’s prayers inspired by Scripture, and is designed to help you step into a quiet, focused space. With 100 entries that include a Scripture passage, a devotion, and a written prayer, this companion for daily moments with God will inspire you to connect with your loving Father. As you reflect on His Word, you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for — and enjoy a time of conversation and meditation with the One who always hears you.​

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

Pick up your copy of Pray: Daily Moments today, and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

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

 

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

The 2 Words that Will Help You Stop Diminishing Your Dreams

by

I was fifteen when I went to an evening Easter service and accepted Christ into my heart. I remember feeling unsure about what I had just done, but excited about the ways my life could be different. I was told that this was the most important decision of my life. And I was told that God could and would do amazing things because of my decision to follow Him.

But, I’m going to be honest – that’s not what happened.

At my first Christian summer camp just a few short months later, the director took me aside and asked me to wear something “more appropriate” so that I wasn’t a “distraction.” I was wearing the camp t-shirt. The same camp t-shirt as everyone else at the camp. (Turns out the only “distraction” was that I was developing earlier than the other girls in my cabin.)

Another time, after a Wednesday night group gathering, I was told by one of the youth leaders that I needed to “act more ladylike” and “not be so loud” in the group.

What I kept hearing, over and over again, was that after accepting Christ (especially as a girl) there were a lot of no’s that needed to be observed, and that Christianity was primarily a list of things that I needed to avoid. When it came to my school friends, some of my favorite things to do (dance, play card games, listen to music, etc.) were no longer acceptable behaviors, and the only reason to have friends that weren’t Christians was to evangelize to them. My friendships outside of church started drifting away. And it wasn’t just my friendships that were shrinking. It was also other areas of my life, like my hopes and ambitions.

I learned to diminish my dreams because what if they didn’t come true? Wasn’t that a bad witness, a bad testimony of God? What if I told other people about my dreams, they didn’t happen, and I caused them to lose faith in God?

Yes, I’m recovering from a lot of messed-up thinking from my early days of church. It took me decades to realize that those voices I heard were not from God, but from people around me who knew it was easier to control others when they are kept small.

It took a lot for me to learn how to listen to my own quieted, muffled voice from deep within that simply asks, “What if?” to questions that would have been automatic no’s in the past.

What if you tried writing and speaking?

What if you spoke out about the things that seem wrong at church?

What if you questioned rules that were made up by people?

What if you regained some of that ambition that you abandoned in your twenties and thirties because it didn’t work well for others in your life?

What if you married a guy with two kids, when you already had two kids?

And most recently, what if you left the city, moved to the mountains, and started a whole new life?

What our kids have lovingly called a midlife crisis, we now refer to as one of the best “What if’s” of our lives.

Five years ago, we bought property in the Sierras for an Airbnb and writing retreats. We have now turned it into our writing retreat center/full-time residence and it’s been the best thing ever.

But what if it hadn’t worked out? What if we’d hated it up here in the mountains? Even in the hardest times, when what we’d hoped and dreamed for did not come to fruition, we could look back and often see God’s hand in it all along.

A loving God doesn’t make our dreams smaller but gives us the vision, creativity, support, and wisdom to make our lives bigger.

If you’re like me and your dreams have been muffled, you might have stopped saying, “What if.”  But God puts a path in front of us, and our goal has to be not to be distracted by everything that wants to divert our attention or change our course.

Proverbs 4:25-27 says, “Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you. Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil.”

So here’s what you need to know about learning to say “What if…”:

1. It’s okay to start small.

Learning to ask “what if…” questions can feel overwhelming. So don’t start by asking a big, “What if we moved to the mountains?” question. Try a smaller what if, like…

  • “What if I took an online class to gain a skill that could help me get a new kind of job?”
  • “What if I took a writing class to start on my memoir?”
  • “What if I made a friend outside of the circle I have now?”

2. And it’s okay to dream about something big.

You can begin to ask yourself questions like…

  • “What if I moved to a community that was away from what I know, but might be better for the life I want?”
  • “What if I applied for a job that I want, but may not be 100% qualified for?”
  • “What if I started dating again?”

When we decided to move to the mountains, it was one big decision, supported by dozens of smaller decisions.

We had talked about moving to the mountains a lot — but not until we retired. And then we started to ask ourselves, “Okay, would it be possible to make it happen sooner rather than later?” We had to make a lot of small changes if we were going to make this really big change. We started looking for a church in the mountains, and asking what the chances of my husband working remotely would be. We also had to determine if we’d be okay living all alone, just the two of us, without our social circles, coworkers, and even our adult kids in “come over for dinner” distance.

3. Start dreaming those dreams and making those small decisions.

  • Buy the book.
  • Take the class.
  • Check-in with human resources at work and ask the questions.
  • Talk with your spouse, parent, sibling, or best friend.

Friend, look for ways to make your life bigger. To trust God more. Look for opportunities to fight against shrinking to make others comfortable. You don’t have to downsize who you are.

Because God has bigger things in store for you.

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

 

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

Take Heart . . . Your Labor in the Lord Is Not in Vain

by

Several summers ago, I was gardening wildflowers. It was therapeutic — weeding and watering the cosmos, blanket flowers, cornflowers, and other delicate beauties that graced the yard. They brought me more happiness than I could articulate. (This is probably largely due to the fact that I’m not a gardener-type at all, and plants that survive me are a mini miracle.)  

When mid-August ushered in the beginning of the end of the growing season, I grew so depressed that I refused to work in the garden anymore. (A super mature response, of course.) At the time, it felt like that tiny piece of heaven-sent goodness was coming to a screeching halt, and I just couldn’t bear to watch it all end. 

Then I stumbled upon the art of flower hammering. 

Flower hammering literally involves hammering a flower, often between two pieces of paper. When pounded or hammered, the flowers leave an imprint. It’s so easy a kid can do it . . . but it’s so complex and satisfying that adults write books about the art. 

It’s a great stress reliever if you want to make art and use a hammer. But, for the flower, it is a painful kind of art. After you hammer a flower, its petals are reduced to slop and have to be scraped off and chucked, thrown away. So why would any kind and loving person pick exquisite blooms and obliterate the life out of them?

Because the pounding of the flower preserves the beauty of it long past its lifetime. The beauty of the flowers in my garden withstood time, long after the blooms withered away.

With restored happiness, I experimented for hours. I even made dozens of cards with these hammered flowers to give as gifts, hoping to share some of the beauty.

I discovered certain flowers worked better than others. Some flowers left great color but then faded; others left true color. Some stages of certain flowers’ lifespans worked better than others, but this all depended on the flower. Each kind of flower required a different amount of pressure. This was the trickiest part because over-smashing sometimes just left a blotch, while not enough pressure sometimes didn’t leave an imprint at all. 

As I hammered the flowers, I didn’t feel bad for squashing them, as their growing season was nearly over anyway. Instead, I was looking forward to beholding the beauty that their imprints would preserve for years.  

Then, it hit me like I was in the front seat of an object lesson. 

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Hebrews 12:2

Our Savior, Jesus — fully man and fully God — was hammered to a cross. Like my pounded flowers, He was reduced to a slop. He suffered for our sake; He withheld nothing. He gave up His life, securing for us the most beautifully infinite and intimate connection with our Heavenly Father.

But that was only part of the object lesson . . .

“For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. For, ‘All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.’ And this is the word that was preached to you.”
1 Peter 1:23-25

The thing is, we are like those flowers. Though our lives are fleeting, Jesus gives us the privilege of leaving a legacy through Him.

We can look to Jesus when life hammers us — when we’re battle-weary from all the pressures . . . when we wonder if we’re really making the kind of difference we hoped we’d make. 

God knows what kind of “flower” He made each of us and what degree of pressure is needed to leave the imprint He desires on our lives. And, because our heavenly Father has decided to conform us to the image of His Son, we can trust He knows exactly how much pressure is needed for this process. No more, no less. 

Sister, our pain is more than transient torture. With every yielded hope and surrendered expectation; with every thought taken captive and made obedient to Christ; with every fear entrusted to Him and every tear-filled care cast upon Him . . . we are leaving a legacy. Though pounded and hammered, we are leaving an imprint that points to the image of Christ.

Take heart, for you are dearly loved and your labor in the Lord is not in vain. Your life, however hope-filled or hammered, will leave a mark of beauty that will long outlast your earthly visit.

What If You Started and Ended Every Day with This?

by

I love you, Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
    my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
    my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
    and I have been saved from my enemies.
The cords of death entangled me;
    the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
    the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the Lord;
    I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came before him, into his ears.
Psalm 18:1-6

What if you started every morning and ended every night with the simple declaration, “I love you, Lord, my strength”? 

When we center our thoughts on God — on His love, His presence, His strength in our lives — we will experience the peace we long for.

Calling out to God won’t always immediately change our circumstances, but we can rest assured that He hears our cries. God is our source of help, hope, and strength. Declare your love for Him today!

 

God Has Been Near

by

The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
    slow to anger and rich in love.

The Lord is good to all;
    he has compassion on all he has made.
All your works praise you, Lord;
    your faithful people extol you.
They tell of the glory of your kingdom
    and speak of your might,
so that all people may know of your mighty acts
    and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,
    and your dominion endures through all generations.

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises
    and faithful in all he does.
Psalm 145:8-13 NIV

 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

For every pain and every grace you may have experienced this summer, God has been near. Each tear has been recorded, the waiting has not been wasted, and God has not left you or abandoned you. So, let the peace of Christ be a balm over your hearts, and let’s repeat these truths from Psalm 145 as we look to the end of this month:

The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and rich in love. (v. 8)

The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises
and faithful in all he does. (v. 13)

The Lord is near to all who call on him,
to all who call on him in truth.
He fulfills the desires of those who fear him;
he hears their cry and saves them.
The Lord watches over all who love him,
but all the wicked he will destroy. (v. 18-20)

Hallelujah and amen.

—

On Saturdays this summer, we’re sharing our favorite Psalms + select devotions from the (in)courage Devotional Bible. We’re loving our summer Saturdays (in) the Psalms with you – and we’ve still got a couple more to go!

Good News: One Day, the Sea Will Be No More

by

There are mornings (ahem, months) I can barely bring myself to look at the news, at social media, at updates coming in from around the world.

Chaos and disaster, suffering and disease, confusion and division . . . they’re all within reach, as near as the closest device. “Come, Lord Jesus” escapes in a whisper and echoes in pixelated captions. It’s all too much, so much more than we were created to hold, and our hands are already full, our hearts already heavy from the stories of loved ones who are hurting.

I sat and stared at the Atlantic a few weeks ago and had a short conversation with God. It went something like this:

God, there’s no end in sight, in more ways than one, and I’m here again asking You to do what You’ve done before. From where I stand, there is literally no way. But if You parted the waters then, You could part the metaphorical ones now. Please, God. Please do. Please be exactly who You are. Make a way. Still the chaos. Push the waves back. Clear a path through the seemingly endless blue. You’re the only One who can and it looks straight-up impossible, like there’s no chance in the actual world. But You’ve done it before. Would You do it again?⁣

I could tell you that He did, that I woke the next day and everything had changed, but that would be a lie.⁣ From my vantage point, it’s all still blue, blue, blue waters swirling and stretching as far as the eye can see.⁣

But this morning, as I read Matthew 8, a smile began to tug at my lips as I remembered once again the lesson I learned in a college classroom.

In ancient times, expanses of water were tied to darkness and chaos. The sea was believed to be where evil had a foothold, and it was often featured as God’s opponent. If you read Scripture through that lens, watching for references to water, you’ll be amazed at how God’s goodness is woven through.⁣

The Spirit hovers over the waters at creation. The Red Sea is split for the Israelites to walk through. Jesus is baptized in the Jordan River and walks on the Sea of Galilee. And there, in Matthew 8, we find the disciples, many of whom grew up on the water as fishermen, terrified by the sudden storm and confused by the God-man who was sound asleep in the boat.

In verses 26-27, we’re told that after they woke Him, Jesus “stood up and told the wind to be silent, the sea to quiet down: ‘Silence!’ The sea became smooth as glass. The men rubbed their eyes, astonished. ‘What’s going on here? Wind and sea stand up and take notice at his command!’”

Jesus wasn’t in a deep sleep because He was indifferent to the crashing waves; no, He was completely at peace because He knew that although chaos might appear close at hand, it is never in control.

As my college professor would be quick to point out, we must remember the promise found in Revelation 21:1. There, at the end of the story sitting on nightstands and at the beginning of so much more, we’re told that the sea will be no more. Every storm will be stilled and all will be made new, every drop redeemed into a river of Life with waters as clear as crystal (Revelation 22:1). Fear will be replaced with peace, heartbreak with beauty, devastation with joy. One day, chaos will be permanently calmed.

Here in the middle, Dr. Leonard would say the Hebrew invitation is to “tiqqun and tiqvah.”⁣

In Hebrew, tiqqun means ‘to heal, repair, or restore.’ Tiqvah means ‘to hope’ and comes from the root word for wait.
⁣
As much as we’re able, we tiqqun. Through the Spirit working within us, we serve and love one another, bringing peace to chaos. But ultimately, we tiqvah, waiting with hope and resting in the promise that a grand restoration is already on the way.⁣

There is still the plea of “Come, Lord Jesus.” There is still the desperate prayer of “do it again.” There are days our hearts break as our fingers scroll, and there are very real storms that will never be shown on a screen or posted to a social media feed. But there is a deeper assurance like an anchor in the waves: We are not adrift in a sea of chaos.

No wave can overtake Him, no storm can overpower Him, and no wind can shout louder than His gentle whisper. Our tears might fall and mingle with the blue, blue, blue that stretches on, but Psalm 56 says God leans low, low, low collecting each one. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll find Him in the waves, a kind twinkle in His eye and a smile on His face as He says “Keep watch, daughter. Beyond what you can see from where you stand, a way is being made. Even now, the promise is coming true. Chaos never gets the final say.”

May we watch and wait with hope. The waters might rise, but our friend Jesus is familiar with waves and one day, hallelujah, the sea will be no more.

If today’s post resonated and you’d like more encouragement from Kaitlyn, her book Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between will help you choose hope for tomorrow when, at least for now, you’re still in the middle of the storm.

 

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

4 Things the Garden Is Teaching Me Now

by

It’s gardening season, and the thing about having ADHD is that we go really hard into hobbies. We may spend an inordinate amount of time and money on something we might not be able to maintain for too long, but by golly, it keeps us busy and entertained for a bit. My hobby this year was gardening. “At least it’s useful!” I say to my husband as he sees another trip to the local nursery pop up on the bank statement.

More than what it’s providing for us physically, I am finding so much spirituality there too. Here are a few things God is teaching so far:  

1. Remember when I moved the peonies? They did bloom wonderfully last summer, to my relief. But oddly, this summer they only gave me one round of blooms as opposed to three or four in years past. I stood over them wondering how I could have helped them grow better or what was going on. The thought occurred to me that sometimes grief shows up belated. They were traumatized from the move, they were doing their best, and this year just wasn’t their year to produce like crazy. I found myself having compassion for the peonies and their big move, not bitterness that they didn’t make enough flowers for me. I pruned and fed them, and let them just be. It made me wonder how attentive God is to us, how He isn’t interested in our productivity, but in our well-being. How He stands in the hot sun, with the shears and the nutrients, and compassionately understands why we just can’t be so useful and bloomy all the time. If I am like this over flowers, what is God like over me?

2. I started my cucumbers from seed this year. This is something I said I would never do because I wasn’t “good at plants.” The funny thing about listening to yourself is that you start to believe those words eventually. As it turns out, I am not bad at plants at all, I was just afraid of failure and afraid to try something new. Once I gave myself permission to give it a try, I actually loved it! My cucumbers are producing like crazy. Yesterday I pulled five off the vine and squealed with delight at how one little seed could make such a bounty. I was slicing them to make pickles and saw there were thousands of seeds in one cucumber. God in His very nature, down to our own vegetables, tells a story of His abundance. He doesn’t run out of seeds or goodness towards you. He is a God of abundance. It reminds me of the fishes and loaves story in the Bible: You bring Him a small thing, and He multiplies it a thousand times.

3. In past years, I never pruned my basil. I would only take leaves from the stem when I was cooking but that’s about it. In the summer heat, they would bolt up tall and flower and lose their steam. This year, I learned the proper way to prune and I was really nervous it might not work. But I did it anyway, scared. Now, I have a basil forest! I can’t make enough pesto and am begging my neighbors to come grab some. It reminds me of God pruning us; it doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything but feeling bad. It feels like He’s taking something away from us. But remember, we don’t love an angry, spiteful God. We love a generous and abundant God. And what I love about pruning my basil is that even the stems I cut off, when put in water, create roots and are used to make even more basil plants. Everything pruned is used for good somehow. For us and for others.

4. The other day, the tops of my carrots were huge and showy and magnificent. I decided they were ready to be pulled. I was so excited as I lifted them out… until I looked at the carrots. Short and stubby, and not even enough to make much of anything with them. I laughed and googled what went wrong. “Clay soil doesn’t give carrots enough room to grow. You must add sand.” Sure enough, my soil was really thick. I planted the right seed — but in the wrong kind of soil. Next year, I’ll know better and improve. I think about that with the dreams God has entrusted me with. Sometimes I plant them in the wrong kind of soil and when it doesn’t work, I quit. What those dreams needed wasn’t inattentiveness, or quitting, they needed more space, not less! Ask God if there’s a dream that needs more space in your life and see what He shows you.

Lest I bore you with more lessons (trust me, I have endless ones!), I mostly want to tell you:

 “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”
Matthew 13:31-32

Maybe you’re not a gardener, but the Bible is full of seed and garden language because it is something physical and tangible we can look at and say, “What is God doing with the small things? What is He doing with my tiny seeds planted in hope?” I tell you, nature is proclaiming that He is doing much with them! 

 

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