Sometimes People Leave You

Sometimes People Leave You

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“Sometimes people leave you.” The lyrics playing from my car speakers sink in my heart as I turn the corner and head home.

Today was not what I expected.

I live in a rather small community called Escondido. We’re a suburb of the big city of San Diego, but the surrounding communities are small and somewhat intimate. I’ve lived here most of my life. There is one big church and lots of small ones. It’s normal to see my old Sunday school teacher at Trader Joe’s or a high school classmate in line at In-N-Out. It isn’t all that uncommon to see my cousin at school pick up either. But there are certain people I never see . . . like my childhood friend who broke off our friendship years ago and lives just a few minutes down the road. Except I did today. I was caught off guard. I smiled and greeted her with kindness. I walked away and glanced over my shoulder to see her with her teenage daughters. Then, I got in my car with my kids and drove away.

I play the song again. That line snags my heart, “…Sometimes people leave you…” Our friendship ended nearly 20 years ago, but the slightest ache still exists inside of me.

The truth is, I feel embarrassed about admitting it. I should feel better by now. I shouldn’t care so much. But, I do. I loved deeply and I lost deeply. I spent years trying to figure out why, how, or what I could have done differently. I lost sleep. I lost weight. I lost a part of myself that I never imagined would return. The hardest part was the feeling of being misunderstood. I hated that I couldn’t defend myself against accusations. It hurt that assumptions were made that I couldn’t clear up. I had so many silent arguments in my mind that ended in tears or fits of anger.

Being misunderstood is so painful.

I pull into the garage and park, and the kids bolt out leaving a trail of trash behind them. It hits me how I’ve grown a whole new life without her. I’m not who I was before. I feel something. But this ache isn’t from being misunderstood any longer. This ache is gratitude.

Of course, I wish I could have become who I am without the pain. I wish I could have magically become secure without my soul being smashed. But, in the strangest way possible, I am thankful for who I have become through the loss of this relationship. It took decades to heal. And though that feels embarrassing, I can look back with compassion and recognize that healing takes time. When deep wounds gush, God goes extra slow. It took time to let go of not just a relationship, but my reputation. When she left me, I was left with a lot of personal rubble to clean up.

My natural tendency is to cling to my reputation. I put it in a glass jar. I protect it at all costs. I want to manage how people perceive me. But when my friendship shattered, my ability to protect my reputation also shattered. I couldn’t convince anyone that I was right and she was wrong. I couldn’t defend myself. I had to let go. Even though it was incredibly hard, surrendering my reputation was a huge part of my healing journey.

I had to give others the right to be wrong about me. I had to let go of the need to be seen as fully good in everyone’s eyes. I released my reputation. I placed myself in the judgment seat.

What was my defense?

I am a child of God. Period. Though judgments were cast in my direction, it turned out that this seat was not a seat of execution, but a throne of grace. This is where God found me. This is where I found Him. This is where slow healing started.

In the crevice wound where uncontrollable accusations hurled towards me and my pain was pierced again and again, yes, this was the place where God’s love poured in.

The song I’ve been listening to ends with the line, “You are not alone. Believe me. No one is alone.” And, I smile. I smile to myself the way I smiled at the woman who was once my best friend. I am not alone. I never was. In fact, I am whole. I don’t need her or anyone else to fully understand me. I am a child of God. The same God who took a beating and spilled blood because friends betrayed Him and His community misunderstood Him.

I came into His wounds and I was healed.

 

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Really Good News If You’re Struggling

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“I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more. You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me.

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.“
John 15:1-5

Here’s the great news, friends: You were not meant to do life by your own strength!

God designed you to need Him. In the same way grapes cannot grow if they are not attached to their vine, so our lives cannot bear good fruit if we are not connected to the True Vine. God is our source of nourishment and guidance. HIS power is what fuels our growth.

If you’re feeling like a shriveled up grape today, weak or weary or wondering what your purpose is, it’s time to remember that you need to remain connected to Jesus.

How do we remain in God? Spend time in His Word. Talk to Him in prayer. LISTEN to Him in prayer. Do what God tells you to do, ie: obey His commands. Ask the Holy Spirit to fill you with everything you need to bear remarkable fruit.

God loves you so much!

Choose to remain tethered to Love today.

 

God Is Working in the Stillness

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Psalm 130

Out of the depths I call to you, Lord!
Lord, listen to my voice;
let your ears be attentive
to my cry for help.

Lord, if you kept an account of iniquities,
Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
so that you may be revered.

I wait for the Lord; I wait
and put my hope in his word.
I wait for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning—
more than watchmen for the morning.

Israel, put your hope in the Lord.
For there is faithful love with the Lord,
and with him is redemption in abundance.
And he will redeem Israel
from all its iniquities.

Stillness. It’s a place where I’m alone with my thoughts and the Lord. It’s a place my soul is learning to rest. Getting here has been a gradual journey. Some days my introverted side loves the quiet; other days the extrovert in me wants a community with hearts most like mine. At the core of stillness is surrender. So I press in, soaking up the truths that He makes me aware of.

Most recently, the stillness finds me at my middle son’s hospital bedside. Sickness has a way of bringing life to a halt. So I surrender my thoughts and plans for this time—to wait, to focus, to listen, and to rest in God’s unwavering faithfulness.

My son’s illness didn’t catch the Lord by surprise. With every detail or event that the Lord allows to touch my day I linger, waiting to hear His voice. In the quiet, He reminds me of a few simple constants that my heavy heart needs to recall.

1. When life takes a curve, rendering you helpless and powerless, know that He is fighting for you and stands guard over every overwhelming detail. “The Lord will fight for you, and you must be quiet” (Exodus 14:14).

2. When you are tempted to worry, pray instead. “Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).

3. Hold tight to your faith because He’s with you always. “Jesus replied to them, ‘Have faith in God. Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, everything you pray and ask for—believe that you have received it and it will be yours” (Mark 11:22-24).

Sometimes these things are easier said than done, especially when fear creeps in. But though we go through life’s trials, God never deserts us. In fact, He willingly laid down His life for us. For all the brokenness, the mistakes, the hurts, the barren places, and for every inadequacy we feel, His sacrifice covers it all. It’s in the stillness I remember that one day I’ll see His face, and all the longings in this patched-up heart will become obsolete. He will fill in all the cracks of my soul with a love that completely fulfills. I’ll be whole. What a comfort. What a faithful Savior.

So when you find yourself in a place where you’re forced to be alone with your thoughts, it’s a good place to be. For it’s there, in the stillness, we hear the Lord.

This devotion is by Melanie Davis Porter, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It has been edited from its original form.

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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!

When You Aren’t Hearing from God

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“Just because you’re not listening does not mean I didn’t say it!”

How many times have I shouted these words or something similar at my children? Enough that I’ve lost count. Whether I’m telling them what time we need to leave the house, or instructing them to put away their mismatched dirty socks (that, for the hundredth time, do not belong on the floor next to the couch), they seem to believe that if they don’t hear me say it, then I didn’t.

Unless they hear — and understand and remember — what I said, they truly don’t think I said anything at all.

Recently, my church focused for several weeks on the Holy Spirit. One of the first messages in this series asked us where we hear from God (or the Holy Spirit). Anyone familiar with my writing or with me won’t be surprised to know my first answer was that I hear from God through art, specifically pop culture such as books, TV, movies, and music. But I surprised myself when I realized I also have heard clearly from God and felt deeply connected to Him through nature. As a self-professed “indoorsy” kind of person, that wasn’t a pattern I’d noticed before.

We talked about this message in my small group later that week, asking each other where we most often hear from God and wondering if any one way is better. (Spoiler alert: I don’t think it is. I believe God speaks and ministers to each one of us in exactly the way we need when we need it.) Then one of my friends suggested we commit to praying the following week about this. She said maybe we should deliberately ask God to speak to us and then do our best to listen.

Friends, I did not like that suggestion.

My reaction surprised me. Why wouldn’t I want to hear more from God? Why wasn’t I excited to tune into the Holy Spirit and see what would happen?

The rest of the members of my small group thought it was a grand idea and all agreed. I sat quietly and then proceeded to go about my week as planned, without any such prayer. As a matter of fact, as the weeks of the Holy Spirit series progressed, I found myself pulling further and further away from the practices I normally lean on to nurture my relationship with God.

Read Scripture? No thanks.
Pray, for myself or for anyone else? Barely.
Write about God? Not a chance.
Talk about God? Not even to my kids.
Listen to worship music? Ha!

Last week as I sat listening to the final message about the Holy Spirit, I angrily wiped tears off my face. I didn’t want to cry. I wasn’t upset. And while I often am moved to tears during worship, the music had faded several minutes before and this wasn’t that.

This was an awakening.

My pastor laid out a metaphor, comparing the Holy Spirit to the wind in a boat’s sails. He referred to Scripture and shared illustrations and generally preached a fantastic finale to the series. Though some part of me listened to the sermon, what was pounding in my brain was, “Why isn’t God talking to me?”

I’d begun to admit to myself that I wasn’t hearing much from God these days. But between hearing about the Holy Spirit that morning and possibly hearing from the Holy Spirit, I was shaken with the realization that my claim that I couldn’t hear God didn’t mean He wasn’t speaking to me. It actually meant I was not listening.

And I’ll be honest. Just like my kids and their selective hearing, I haven’t really wanted to listen to God for a variety of reasons. So of course my spiritual ears closed up tight anytime He might have been whispering or even shouting in my direction. But just because I didn’t hear Him doesn’t mean He left me alone. It doesn’t mean He stopped encouraging and guiding and loving me. It doesn’t mean He wasn’t saying anything.

Maybe you’ve gone through a time like this. A rebellious or confused or just plain lost season, where you don’t really want to seek out God but desperately do not want Him to give up on you? A time when you fold your arms and stomp your foot and turn your head away, all the while hoping to feel His arms surround you anyway?

The good news for you and for me is that no matter how many times we ignore Him, no matter how long we plug our ears and avert our eyes, no matter how often we insist that we’re just fine on our own . . . God perseveres. He may be quiet. He may give us a moment. But He never leaves us. And as soon as we begin to seek His voice, we will find Him once again.

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Matthew 7:7-8

 

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Let God Transform Your Heart

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Living empowered to be like Jesus begins with the Holy Spirit’s work in our hearts. He wants to create in each one of us a new heart that embodies His hope, peace, wisdom, and mercy. When we have a heart more like God, we are able to be His difference-makers in our hurting homes and fractured world.

One way to grow in these areas is to study what God says about them – to look deeply into the Word to find the hope, peace, wisdom, and mercy the Lord promises.

If you want your heart to be transformed into a heart more like His, we can help!

Our series of four Create in Me a Heart of… Bible studies are the perfect guide to help you learn about God’s heart and grow in His ways. Each book in this series includes a six-week Bible study packed with meaningful teaching, real-life applications, daily prayers, and simple Scripture memorization. Perfect for individuals or small groups, each study is written by an (in)courage contributor and features stories each week from many of your favorite (in)courage writers.

You can use code CREATEINME to get the whole 4-study collection at DaySpring for $15 off + free shipping! Here’s a peek into each study:

Create in Me a Heart of Hope

Have you ever felt hopeless? Perhaps you’ve found yourself facing circumstances you never prepared for or even imagined, and while you’re desperately longing for some help or encouragement, you’re beginning to wonder if that will ever happen. Perhaps you’ve gone through something painful, and now, on the other side, you fear that experience has redefined you or redrawn your perspective in a way that has destroyed your belief in a greater good. Maybe you’re looking for any sign of hope, any hint of encouragement, any inkling that this—whatever your this might be— won’t last forever and won’t get the best of you. Maybe you’re afraid to hope, or perhaps you’re not even sure what hope is. God’s Word and this Bible study are here to meet you in that very place.

In Create in Me a Heart of Hope, we dive deep into Scripture to examine what we believe about hope. We look at how God offers us hope — real, certain, unshakable hope — when we’re waiting and when we’re overwhelmed, when we’ve been hurt, and when we feel trapped. Looking at where that hope comes from and what it looks like in our lives will help us understand what hope is and what difference it makes. It will allow God to create in us a heart of hope.

Create in Me a Heart of Peace

Does the idea of lasting peace seem like an impossible dream? When you turn on the evening news and hear of another mass shooting, when that person you were supposed to rely on proved untrustworthy again, when you scroll social media and are bombarded by digital finger-pointing, name-calling, and shame-blaming, it’s easy to feel that peace is elusive. It’s easy to believe that peace is something mythical reserved for fairy tales and one-week summer vacations, that peace can’t reach inside oncology wards and broken relationships. We all want peace. We crave an inner calm-meets-strength that doesn’t rattle with volatile circumstances or disappear with busyness. What if this kind of unshakable peace actually is possible?

Create in Me a Heart of Peace will guide you to discovering the life-changing power of God’s peace. Not a peace reserved for Sunday mornings or when you remember to pray before bed, but a peace that’s available to you right now, right where you are. God wants to reach into your heart with His peace when you’re exhausted from rocking a colicky baby or when you’re weary of being single. He wants to comfort you with His peace when you’re enduring another day of chronic illness or facing a conflict without a clear resolution. True peace isn’t a fable or a religious fabrication to make people simply feel better; true peace is a person named Jesus. You might already know Him, but there is more He has for you, more He wants you to experience as His beloved friend, lamb, and daughter.

Create in Me a Heart of Peace is for anyone who longs to know that God is real and present and constantly working on our behalf. Whether you’ve been reading the Bible for decades or you’re just finding out what it means to know Jesus, these pages are available to you as a guide to help you move through Scripture and discover what God’s Word says about peace and the difference it can make in your life.

Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom

We all want and need wisdom, but how do we get it? When we’re in a relationship with a toxic person and need boundaries, when our churches are divided by theological differences, when we don’t know how to navigate unexpected difficulties, knowing what the right, good, or wise thing to do is difficult. It would be easier if wisdom were formulaic and we could follow a set of rules to fix every tricky situation. But the wisdom we need is the kind that can guide us when there is no right answer, when choosing the best thing goes against our loved ones’ advice, and when it seems impossible to find a way through complicated feelings, relationships, and circumstances. We need wisdom to live life fully, and that wisdom comes from God. He understands our realities, sees beyond what we can see, and is the ultimate source of knowledge and understanding. In Christ, we have access to God’s wisdom through the Holy Spirit, who directs our steps and dwells within us.

Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom teaches that wisdom is learned by understanding knowledge, listening to the Holy Spirit, experiencing struggle, being in community, and practicing what we learn over a lifetime. It won’t offer solutions to specific problems, but it will offer spiritual insight and practical guided questions throughout the study to help you seek God and gain the wisdom you need. Discover the wisdom that is available to you when you ask God for it and learn to walk wisely with the help of the Holy Spirit.

Create in Me a Heart of Mercy

What does it mean to have a heart of mercy? Maybe you don’t feel like you are a particularly merciful person. Maybe you desire to cultivate a heart of mercy but aren’t sure how. Maybe you’ve been told you have a gift of mercy but would like to be more intentional about using that gift for God’s glory. God has a heart of mercy. He cares deeply for the widow, the orphan, the single mom, and the immigrant. The plight of these people weighs heavy on my heart too, but sometimes I’m not exactly sure what to do with these feelings. Just how does God want me to extend mercy to others?

Create in Me a Heart of Mercy is designed to meet you in your questions about mercy. You don’t have to travel to another country to understand God’s heart for mercy or to demonstrate it to others. This study helps us consider our own desperate need for mercy, and how we must first receive it before we are then called to extend mercy to others in our everyday lives and beyond. Create in Me a Heart of Mercy goes on a treasure hunt through Scripture to learn more about how to cultivate a heart of mercy, and studies the stories of Old and New Testament characters who were granted mercy and who multiplied mercy to others. Our prayer is that this study will encourage you to learn more about God and yourself. Friend, we are journeying alongside you!

Every week of these studies begins with a personal story from an (in)courage contributor, following our mission of “going first” with our hard, messy, real stories. Many of these stories begin in deep heartache but inevitably find their way back to God and the great gifts He’s given us of hope, peace, wisdom, and mercy. The other four days dive deep into God’s Word to discover the source of hope in our lives, how peace transformed the lives of different people in the Bible, and the impact wisdom and mercy can have on our lives today.

It’s never been easier to plan a full year of Bible study — just pick up your 4-study box set from DaySpring and remember to use code CREATEINME to save $15 + get free shipping on the collection! For more information + a free week from each study, a small group leader guide, teaching videos, and more, visit incourage.me/biblestudy.

Are you ready? Together, let’s ask God to create in us hearts of hope, peace, wisdom, and mercy. His heart in us changes everything.

 

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Hope for Hard Friendship Breakups

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I bounced into the nail salon, excited to give my nails a little spring TLC. A new-to-me nail tech with curly dark hair framing beautiful brown eyes met me and delivered a warm greeting. She waved me back to her station, and I happily took a seat in the white leather chair.

After a bit of small talk, she asked me if I was getting my nails done for a special occasion. I told her that I wanted a nail spruce-up before taking a trip with a friend.

“Oh,” she responded, matter of factly. “I recently took a trip with a friend, but…” Her brown eyes bobbed up to mine and back down again. “It didn’t go so well.”

I looked at her with furrowed brows and responded, “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

And that’s when she poured out her story, ripe and fresh as if it’d happened the same day.

Her friend, let’s call her Emily, was my nail tech’s best friend and roommate. She and her parents invited my nail tech, let’s call her Beth, on a cruise to Alaska. Beth was thrilled to be invited and planned her heart out for all sorts of Alaskan adventures. Emily seemed thrilled to share this experience with her bestie, too, and both girls reveled in all the fun activities the cruise offered. All was well until day three of the cruise when, suddenly, Emily became distant and aloof. Beth repeatedly asked what was wrong, and if she had done something to offend. Emily insisted she hadn’t, yet her behavior wouldn’t warm towards Beth. By day five of the trip, Emily coldly told Beth that their friendship was over. Beth, stunned and devastated, spent the remainder of the cruise on outings by herself or crying alone in her cabin. As soon as she returned home, she moved out of the apartment she had shared with Emily.

At the point in time when Beth shared this with me, she still had no idea what had caused Emily to suddenly and inexplicably do a 180-degree turn on their friendship. Emily’s behavior went beyond ghosting.

This sad story got me thinking: How does someone just cruelly terminate a longtime, important friendship on the turn of a dime? And why choose that course of action with no explanation? Talking things through may not save the relationship, but at least both parties could ask and share the “why” behind their decisions and have the opportunity to apologize for missteps.

If there’s a kind of change I dislike more than most, it’s a change in a friendship that I didn’t endorse. When this happens, it’s easy to lie awake at night asking all sorts of questions: Why did this happen? What did I do? What didn’t I do that I should’ve? Why is she handling it this way? We do this to try to make sense of whatever unexpected turn of events has left us reeling.

However, something doesn’t have to make sense for us to accept it. If you have a similar story to Beth’s (Oh, how sorry I am if you do), it’s okay to ask questions and ponder the “why’s” of what happened to dramatically change or abruptly end your friendship. But be kind to yourself by pivoting from questions with no answers to those with answers.

Here are 3 questions (and answers) that will provide a measure of relief and bring you to the truth:

  1. When a friendship breakup makes me question my worth, what does God say is true about me?
    Nothing in all of creation can separate me from the love of God (See Romans 8:31-39.)
  2. When my circumstances change for the worst, what do I know won’t change?
    Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8).
  3. When questions keep me up at night, what can I rest in knowing is answered?
    God says, “Never will I fail you or abandon you.” (Hebrews 13:5).

In addition to expressing my sadness and sorrow to Beth, I told her that the definitive turn in her friend’s behavior was an opportunity to have her eyes opened to the truth where a blind spot had been — to see now what she couldn’t before. The truth: Emily wasn’t a true best friend. And while Beth’s experiences with her hurt tremendously, and it was right to mourn the loss of a friend, perhaps she was saved from pain later on because of this break in the friendship now.

I told her, in the words of my friend, Salena, “Sometimes, rejection is God’s protection against what isn’t in our best interest.”

“Yes,” she responded, a weak smile on her face. “Maybe that’s it.”

While this is true, knowing it doesn’t magically take the pain away. But it can provide a perspective that lightens the heart.

Friendships change for all sorts of reasons. Some friendships are life-long, others are seasonal. Some end amicably, others tragically. Only the love of God can fill the holes in our hearts and make us whole — in spite of a whole lot of unanswered questions.

God loves us and blesses us through our heartache, and Jesus (our Friend who knew friendship heartache Himself) walks with us.

That is a truth that’ll never change.

Need a little direction and hope in finding friends? I’m here to help with a free gift for you.

 

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The Best Way to Use Your Freedom

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“What would you do if you won the lottery?” Researchers posed that question to 2,500 adults and among the top responses were:

  • Purchase an RV.
  • Have a personal hairdresser. (In the RV?)
  • Hire a chauffeur. (For the RV?)

Yes, ma’am. Thankfully, there were a few more altruistic answers sprinkled in as well. But it seems humans have a fondness for spending money on themselves—and very large vehicles.

The tendency to use any kind of freedom we’re given for our own desires isn’t new. The Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Galatia:

“For you have been called to live in freedom, my brothers and sisters. But don’t use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love.”
Galatians 5:13

As we celebrate freedom on the 4th of July, the last phrase in that verse keeps repeating in my mind and heart: Use your freedom to serve one another in love.

We have a lot of freedom in America. Freedom of speech. Freedom to worship. Freedom to do what we believe leads to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” And those freedoms weren’t won in a lottery. They were bought with the blood of soldiers. And the freedom Paul spoke of was bought with the blood of our Savior.

Because we’re human, it’s easy to be selfish with our freedom. So we speak words that tear others down. We worship false idols of fame and pleasure. We pursue whatever we think will make us feel better — and heaven help the person who gets in our way.

So maybe today it’s time to pause and remember the highest, best freedom: Love.

Let’s only speak words that make souls stronger. Let’s worship the God who gave everything for us. Let’s stop our pursuits and take time to serve the least of these.

Paul also writes, “Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others” (Philippians 2:1-4).

That’s what true freedom looks like. You won’t find it in a snarky Facebook post. Or in the rant of a “religious” leader tearing others to shreds. It won’t be at the table with gossip. Because the irony is: when we stop loving, we give up our freedom. We become entangled in our own words and hatred until we can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t even drive our own RV.

Yes, July 4th is a time to celebrate an important historical event. But let’s also think about what real freedom means for us right here, right now. We don’t need to win the lottery to send out a little more love into the world, like a firework lighting up the dark.

This article is written by Holley Gerth and first appeared on (in)courage here.

 

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This Is the Ordinary, Extraordinary, Grace of God

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Last weekend my family drove out to the countryside for a graduation party. The guests of honor were a pair of siblings. Their mom was my babysitter growing up, like a pseudo-big sister. She gave me the BEST hand-me-downs (remember Guess? jeans, Clinique bonuses, and neon jewelry??) and she named her Cabbage Patch doll after me. I was a junior bridesmaid at her wedding 27 years ago (how is that possible?!) and she was at my wedding 16 years ago.

And so to the country we drove, to eat cake and let my kids run in the abandoned pasture and celebrate her kids, now grown and flying the coop.

I grew up with her in my life because our moms were best friends. We had Easter dinners and egg hunts at their home. We would go trick-or-treating in their neighborhood, ending at their house with a candy dump in front of the fireplace. Every Christmas, their mom would cross-stitch a personalized ornament for each of us; when we got married, our spouses received their own. And now our kids have their own growing collection of hand-stitched ornaments too.

Slowly, over time and through widening gaps, the friendship between our moms has fizzled. But ours hasn’t.

On that celebration day, even without the original friendship present, my family was welcomed with tears and open arms. We were issued firm invitations to visit their beautiful home up north. My kids were lavished with love and gasps of ‘how much they’ve grown!’, and they reciprocated with how much they treasure the cross-stitched ornaments and books they receive every Christmas.

It was grace on full display, glittering and showing off as it shone like a department store window at Christmas time.

The next day was Father’s Day, and in church we sat behind a pew that was stuffed with a family. Sitting crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, all in black, with a grieving dad in the middle of the crew. Only weeks prior, his 13-year-old son died in a bicycle accident. Over 800 people attended the funeral. Our community has rallied and cried, our own middle schoolers asking hard questions and learning how to process the loss of a friend. I dropped a casserole on his doorstep that day, blinking back tears at the basketball set by the front door, fully aware of the futility of comfort in noodles and melted cheese. On that bitterest of Father’s Days, he was in church and his family was with him. Surrounding him. Passing tissues to one another during poignant moments in worship. Remembering and questioning and praising still.

It was grace, quietly and undeniably on display like the calm beauty of a loon floating on a glass-surfaced lake.

My husband is traveling for work this summer, and recently he was gone for a week. Three of our four kids were also away that week at various camps, so it was just me and my two-year-old at home. One morning after dropping him at daycare, I stopped on the way home to pick up my Target order (diapers and sparkling water — must-haves.). When I checked in, a little popup surprised me. I could order Starbucks and someone would bring it to my car alongside my diapers! What in the name of glory! I added a vanilla sweet cream cold brew and a little sandwich, and sure enough, when the young Target employee arrived with the cases of diapers and sparkling water, he also handed me a Starbucks bag right through my open window. Inside was a neatly wrapped sandwich, and my iced coffee stickered closed and standing upright in a drink holder. The ordinary extraordinary of that bag overtook me, and I almost cried right there in the parking lot.

It felt like extravagant grace sweetly on display, like a cold glass of fresh iced tea on a hot summer’s day.

That night, my toddler awoke around 2 a.m. He was crying for his daddy, and all I could offer him was my own arms. And a drink of water. And a clean diaper. And a snuggle in my bed. Before long he was snoring away and I was wedged into a fraction of my bed, little feet firmly planted on my back and a pudgy hand holding my hair. He slept soundly and while I drifted in and out of sleep myself, it was a gift to see his thick eyelashes drifting over his cheeks right there beside me. Barely over a decade ago was I awake at night, praying for a baby at all. And now an embarrassment of riches with four, all beautiful and growing up so fast I can’t keep up. That night, I tried (as all moms do) to take it all in because we know how fleeting it is, even while parenting is as hard as it gets.

It was grace sleepily on display, cozy and reassuring as a bedtime story under a warm handmade quilt.

This is the ordinary, extraordinary, grace of God. When we pay attention, we see that it oozes and seeps through each crack in our lives. It shows up and shows off in big and small ways, both loud and quiet, not clamoring for our noticing but patiently waiting for us to turn our heads and hearts to its glory.

And when we do, it can change everything.

Where are you seeing the grace of God these days?

 

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

3 Things to Encourage Your Heart (and Others) Today

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

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

Today, we invite you to do three things:

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

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

 

Hold Tight to His Heart

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How happy is the one who does not
walk in the advice of the wicked
or stand in the pathway with sinners
or sit in the company of mockers!
Instead, his delight is in the Lord’s instruction,
and he meditates on it day and night.
He is like a tree planted beside flowing streams
that bears its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

The wicked are not like this;
instead, they are like chaff that the wind blows away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand up in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked leads to ruin.
Psalm 1

When hard news comes, when difficulties happen, we can be tempted to think that if our life is a Farmer’s Market the stalls will now be empty. There will be only fragile leaves chased away by the wind. All the glory and color will be gone. But the reality is this: As long as we are joined to Jesus, there will be fruit in our lives — from the time we are sneaker-wearing teenagers to silver-haired senior citizens blowing out one hundred candles on the cake. In other words, there will always be miraculous things coming to and through us.

The fruit in our lives will thrive. That doesn’t mean nothing hard will ever happen or we’ll get everything we want. But it does mean that God’s plans for our lives are invincible when we stay connected to Him. Life’s droughts and storms can’t stop Him from bringing forth His miraculous work in and through us.

So let’s cling to God’s promises. Hold tight to His heart. Have strong roots that burrow deep into His affection for us. We will not falter. We will not fail. We will not lead a barren life at any age. Yes, we will be women of beauty, growth, and blessings as long as we live. Because we are trees planted by the river of God’s love, and it will never run dry.

This excerpt is by Holley Gerth, published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. It has been edited from its original form.

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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!

Come and Agree with God

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I’ve rarely considered myself beautiful. 

There have been days – certain outfits, certain hairstyles, certain photos – where I’ll think, “I look pretty today.” But the first time a boy called me beautiful, I could hardly believe him. 

Capable? Yes. But beautiful? That seemed harder to hold onto, more elusive. 

In the first few pages of the Bible, God crafts and creates man and woman – carefully, tenderly, and utterly on purpose – and then He stands back, admires His handiwork, and deems them very good. Not just good. Very good. 

The only thing is: most of us don’t agree with Him. 

Maybe we believe others are good. Our friends, our sisters, our daughters. We see their beauty and goodness from miles away. But us? Many of us hardly think of ourselves as good, let alone very good. 

Years can go by, but you likely still remember the way a comment lodged itself deep inside your heart. And often, we don’t simply remember the comments that were made but we can still feel the hot shame that crept up our backs and burned into our cheeks. I think it’s why so many of us don’t believe we’re very good.

It takes immense courage to ask Jesus to show you the wound, and to let His kind and careful hands dislodge the arrow from your heart.

My niece just turned five years old. I curled her hair for the first time the night before her birthday, twisting the hot iron around her dark blonde locks and watching them cascade gently over her shoulders. She was stunning. Absolutely and totally beautiful. 

She’s not just good – she’s clearly very good. The thought that she could one day grow up believing a lie about her beauty made me feel sick to my stomach. I love my niece with my whole heart. I keep telling her how beautiful she is, and right now, at five years old, she believes every word. 

I look at her beauty and choose to believe it for myself, too. God made me not only good, but very good. The more I’ve come to grasp the love Jesus has for me, the more I see me the way He sees me: beautiful.

Here’s what I’m coming to realize: any time we disagree with God, we believe a lie. God formed and fashioned every part of me, and when I haven’t come to an agreement with what He says about me, I believe a lie. 

Come into agreement with God. Come and agree with Him — how He made you is very good indeed. 

I love what it says in Exodus 34 – how when Moses spent time with God, his face became radiant. “When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the covenant law in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the Lord.” 

I think we become even more beautiful when we spend time with Jesus. 

Each week, I meet with one of the pastors on staff at my church. We get together early before the work day to pray together. It’s often the highlight of my week: spending time with both her and Jesus. She’s 73 years old and is truly the most beautiful person I know. She is radiant. She spends so much of her time with Jesus, and radiates beauty. She makes every room she enters more beautiful.

You’ve likely heard the adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The One who dreamed of you before you were ever a thought, who formed and fashioned you, who painted the color of your eyes – He beholds you and calls you beautiful. 

God made you and then called you good. But not just good – very good. Come and agree with Him.

 

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I Found Belonging in the Open Arms of This Jesus

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I still remember what it felt like to be on the outside of the Church, looking in.

A friend had invited me to a youth Bible study, and instead of sitting in the circle with the rest of the group who knew they were Christians and said so, I sat outside the circle, in the corner of the room, and listened. No one told me to sit where I did. But beforehand there was such an emphasis on the meeting being for Christians that I wasn’t sure it was for me. I didn’t know if I was a Christian or not at that point. Years before I’d prayed a prayer with my Grandma Margie that I’d meant, but in this group, I only felt aware of what I didn’t know or understand quite yet.

I sat in the corner surrounded by two bookshelves filled with books and games, under an invisible covering of shame. In my mind, there was a hard, impassable line between me and this group I silently observed.

Years later, I would find myself sinking deep into the Gospels and realizing how much I had in common with many of the first followers of Jesus. There was so much they didn’t understand about who Jesus was and the Church He was beginning to build. There was so much they didn’t get about what He said or who they were, or who He was shaping them to be. Jesus invited them along for the ride despite all they didn’t know or understand. He invited them into intimacy knowing they would turn away and betray Him, and that each of them would walk their own journey of becoming.

Jesus’ wide welcome of others would repeatedly shock many. It’s safe to say that if He was here with us in bodily form, His wide welcome would repeatedly shock us as well. He offered no disclaimers, statements, or stances alongside the invitations He offered or received.

I found belonging in the open arms of this Jesus. I found and continue to form my understanding of welcome in His ways.

When a Pharisee invited Jesus to dinner as recorded in the gospel of Luke, He didn’t decline based on what He knew about the man or how they might differ. Jesus went and reclined at the table. And when an uninvited woman showed up at the dinner with an alabaster jar in her arms, knelt behind Jesus and wept, then cleaned the tears off of His feet with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them, Jesus received her offering — despite how uncomfortable his host or friends could’ve been.

When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”
Luke 7:39 The Message

Can you imagine how tense the room might’ve been? Jesus didn’t assimilate to the comfortable majority in the room, He welcomed the desperate minority. He didn’t tell the woman to go away or try to keep her separate from His hosts. He brought her story into the middle of His own and told a story so that everyone there could learn and grow.

Jesus led by example, showing up wholly and receiving others wholly, in love.

When I think about Jesus’ ways, I’m reminded that I don’t need to keep a checklist of proof for my belonging or the belonging of others. I can eat with those who don’t realize how deep their need is for Jesus, and welcome those who do. I don’t need to make sure my neighbor knows where I stand on this issue or that one before I catch their tears, listen to their story, or dine at their table. And their tears and story should be able to change my limited opinions and the way I think about this issue or that one. I don’t need to explain or qualify my friendships with those who live differently than I do. It’s not my job to chart where someone is in their faith journey.

You and I are made to extend welcome. We belong, and everyone around us does too.

When it comes to the Church, I am no longer on the outside . . . but I never want to forget what it felt like to sit in the corner, separate and ashamed, wondering what I had to know or do or hide to belong. May that feeling always stay with me as a guide to keep growing my own ways of welcoming wider than I thought welcome could ever be.

How has Jesus’ wide welcome changed you?

 

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

 

When God Hangs a Strawberry Moon, What Is He Trying to Tell You?

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I was scheduled to serve on our church’s Connect Team, a group whose goal is to make everyone feel welcome from the moment they pull into our parking lot. It’s a ministry role I relish; having searched for a new church home multiple times, I remember what it feels like when you’re visiting (awkward!). You can tell a lot about a church just by the way you’re greeted.

But that morning my emotions were all knotted up, and I hoped I wouldn’t fall apart with a complete stranger. I’m carrying a lot of heartache and uncertainty in this season, and while I stand on a firm foundation, the surface is awfully wobbly. Sometimes I’m fine, and other times not so much. When people ask something as simple as, “How’re you doing?” my emotions are unpredictable.

Serving that morning turned out to be a gift. I could focus on others rather than think about the circumstances that are making life hard right now. Then the church service started.

I probably should confess I’m in a valley and wandering (again). I suppose, naïvely, I thought since I slogged through an exhausting spiritual desert years ago, I wouldn’t encounter another one. But what I learned back then is surely making a difference now:

God’s faithfulness in spite of my past unbelief gives me confidence in His faithfulness now.

That morning I didn’t bring much of a “heart of worship” but at least I showed up. And God can move in our hearts, even if all we can manage is just showing up.

The service started with a song that perfectly expressed my desperation and need, like God had selected it Himself, just for me. The refrain, an honest prayer –

O God, my God, I need You  //  O God, my God, I need You now  //
How I need You now  //  O Rock, O Rock of ages  //
I’m standing on Your faithfulness

The song draws on the experiences of people we’ve met in Scripture, what God did in their lives, and how He does the same for us now. I don’t know if the lyrics were inspired by Hebrews 13:8, but it’s the verse that came to mind as I listened: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”

This song, Same God by Elevation Worship, has been out for almost a year. Yet that Sunday was the first time I heard it. The way it spoke to me personally and intimately, I don’t believe it was a coincidence; I believe God’s perfect timing is evidence of His goodness and generosity.

God’s gifts are magnificent, aren’t they?

When the sermon started, God continued speaking to me. We’re studying the life of Joseph, and looking at Genesis 37, our pastor reminded us of Joseph’s dream of ruling and how his brothers would bow down to him. He posed the question, “How do you go from being a spoiled brat tattling on your brothers to a ruler?” Genesis 39 sheds light on how, as a slave and then prisoner, Joseph learned to lead others. On the surface, being sold into slavery and later being falsely accused and sent to prison looks like a huge mistake. But God used all of this to transform Joseph over time into the person God called him to be.

And, then – like in a movie – it was as if everyone else in the church faded. The pastor looked straight at me and asked, “What if you saw the terrible circumstances in your life as circumstances God was using to shape you into the person you were meant to be? What if these circumstances, over time, were exactly what you needed – not easy, not without pain – but what you ultimately needed?”

The question lingered as he continued his sermon.

After church, I had plans to join someone I love for an early dinner, and I anticipated some deep and difficult conversations. I had a long drive, so there was plenty of time to pray and ponder the message I had just heard. As I had hoped, our time together was precious and productive, and as expected, at times also painful. It was an evening stitched together with laughter and tears, real and raw and rare. As we hugged goodbye, it started to rain.

Night driving on the interstate in the rain is not my favorite. Neither are cars whizzing by at 90 mph. To help soothe my nerves frayed by circumstances and now driving too fast in dicey weather, I played Same God on repeat. When the rain tapered off about 40 minutes into my drive home, I thanked God and continued my little one-song concert.

It was right about then that I rounded a bend and the rain and trees that had obscured my view disappeared. I literally gasped. Hanging low in the sky and almost touching the road was the most beautiful full moon I’ve ever seen, big and bright . . . and orange?? It was a special kind of supermoon, a Strawberry Moon, which appears almost a third larger and 17% brighter than usual.

I dang near had a wreck, it was so beautiful.

I was overwhelmed and astounded. God continues to give me incredible signs (a song) and wonders (bonjour, Strawberry Moon!) despite my unbelief. God knows that when I’m praying, “I need You now,” I’m really saying, “I need to know You are real and present and actually working all things together for good.”

God can turn night into day, mourning into dancing, and a moon we’ve stopped noticing into evidence of His love and a reflection of His glory. In looking at Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, it’s clear that God will stop at nothing – nothing! – to demonstrate His love for each of us.

He used a strawberry moon to remind me of His love. How is God getting your attention to tell you how much He loves you?

 

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

The Lord at Work

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For over a decade, I was in full-time ministry. If you count seminary years and Bible college, it’s been part of my work since 2008. But back in February, I stepped away from a job, and when it came time to figure out what was next, an unexpected opportunity arose: working for a home renovation and construction company.

When I was a kid, a family friend was a contractor. He’d take me to jobs and I would paint boards for a little bit of spending money. I loved the smell of sawdust and seeing rotted wood get removed and replaced. Little did I know, one day I’d have an office down the hall from a full-on workshop.

I’m still in culture shock when I walk into the office. No one starts meetings with prayers or reminds you of the importance of Eternity. But what I lost in Christian-ese, I’ve gained in connection to a group of people I might not otherwise have encountered.

These colleagues are skilled craftsmen and planners, architects and job managers. They know how to create almost anything from scratch, and they work with excellence and drive. As I was getting acclimated, after posting something faith-based on my personal Instagram, a comment caught my eye. It was someone lamenting that I’m not in ministry. That my gifts which are theologically bent don’t seem to fit with my current full-time vocation.

In the world we live in, this is a common assumption. We see pastors or administrators or caretakers as those in ‘full-time ministry.’ Those jobs are so needed! My brother-in-law is a faithful pastor of a church in California and his work is challenging yet rich. I have a deep respect for individuals in those spaces. And who knows? Maybe I’ll end up back there again one day. But for now, I find myself driving down a road that is dense with potholes and workshops on my way to the office. I find myself passing by warehouses and industrial spaces, re-learning a new way of existing in the world.

“Hello!” I called out the other morning to a man standing on a loading dock.

He greeted me with a smile.

“What do you guys do here?” I asked

“Anything made out of metal? We make it.” He replied, with sparks flying behind him and machinery resounding in the background.

We exchanged names and as I walked away, my foot caught the ground and I accidentally kicked an empty bottle of liquor that was sitting on the side of the street between our workplaces. Immediately, a phrase popped into my head: This is ministry, too.

It turns out, my work is full of people who are living, breathing examples of the human experience. They’re removing rotted clapboards and sawing wood and building staircases and processing the world around them. They’re having lunch breaks and driving to job sites and trying to be good parents and spouses and friends. Away from church pews, the need for Jesus is just as strong.

Scripture reminds us to do everything to the glory of God. It doesn’t make mention of needing to be in a church office or standing at a pulpit. Christ can be magnified in the parking lot or the drive-through or the office complex.

In 1 Corinthians 10:31, it says, “Whatever you do—whether you eat or drink or not—do it all to the glory of God!”

So I come home and I exhale and I change out of my men’s polo with the logo of my company. I sit and I process and I pray that I can meet these new friends and coworkers with grace, kindness, and patience. I ask Jesus to be made known and to be glorified as we post on social media, frame and paint walls. Even if it’s just someone sensing that they’re not alone, there are a thousand small ways to point anyone toward the truth of Jesus.

Still, I miss those opening prayers and staff devotionals and feeling like my work was intimately connected to my faith. But then? I remember that I work at a home renovation company — and Jesus was a carpenter. So surely, if it’s good enough for the Son of God, it’s more than enough for me.

 

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

Live Like You’ve Been with Him

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I have a love-hate relationship with exercise. Do you know what I mean? Last year, I decided to go all in and get a trainer so that I had some accountability. I love my trainer; he challenges me and pushes me to keep going when I want to stop. It’s great, but it is annoying at the same time. At the beginning of each session, with a big smile and in the most excited voice you can imagine, he asks how I felt after my last session. My answer is always the same, “Sore!” I used to think this response would garner me some mercy and he would keep the exercises light, but his response is always the same, too, “That’s great! We want to live sore!”

As much as I dislike sweating it out, I’m learning to actually enjoy the feeling of soreness because I know it means I accomplished something. It means I kept the promise I made to myself to steward my health. I moved my body and I’m building muscle. The soreness is not there all the time, but when I squat to pick up something my son dropped on the ground or get the gallon of milk from the fridge, my body immediately reminds me that I spent time at the gym and that I committed to go to the gym again the next day. I think that’s what my trainer meant when he said, “We have to live sore!” Because when I’m not living sore, it means I was inactive and didn’t put in enough work to challenge my body or develop muscle.

The importance of exercise is common knowledge. I’ve known all about the benefits long before I started training. In fact, I have a doctoral degree in physical therapy and use exercise as my primary medium to help people heal and prevent injury. I literally work in a gym and prescribe different exercises all day long. I use that knowledge to help everyone, yet . . .  my knowledge remains useless to me if I don’t choose to use it and live sore.

The importance of knowledge in action is also emphasized in the Bible. 

Jesus came to a group of people called the Pharisees who had memorized Scripture. They were experts in the law who could quote it all day long but didn’t quite live it out themselves. That is why Jesus’ call to discipleship wasn’t simply, “Believe me” or “Know me”; instead it was “Follow me.” This was the missing piece in the Pharisees’ faith. So Jesus, the Word made flesh, came to show people how to live out the Word.

I think as Christians, we are often so familiar with knowing the way of Jesus that we can go through the motions and quote the verses, but our lives don’t always reflect that we have been with Jesus.

Here are questions to ask yourself:

Are you convicted when you gossip with your friend or get angry at a loved one?
Are you complaining about your kids or actually praying for and discipling them?
Are you confident in your identity, and not striving to fit in to earn significance?
Are you compelled to share the gospel with your neighbor?
Are you compassionate to the needy in your city?

We go to church. We do our quiet time. But often we are not changed. There isn’t any evidence that our lives are different from doing those things.

Christianity isn’t just about what you believe. It’s also about what you do with what you believe. If we have been transformed by the grace of God, then something about our lives will look different.

Moses met with God on Mount Sinai and when he came back down to the people, his face shone so bright, they couldn’t look at Him (Exodus 34:29-30). Being in the presence of God transformed how Moses looked.

After Jesus’ ascension, people marveled at the disciples because of their message. “When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13).

I want the world to look at me and see that I am different. The world desperately needs people who are living counter-culturally, people who are in the world, but not of it. When we live this way, we feel the discomfort of extending grace and forgiveness when someone hurts us, the tenderness of our hearts breaking at a stranger’s loss, and the pulling of our affection away from the things of the world.

Lord, make us a people who don’t just know You, but who want to be with You . . . and let our lives show it!

 

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

 

You’re Not Alone in Your Invisible Suffering

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My breathing got faster . . . shallower. My heart raced and so did my thoughts. Not wanting to wake my parents, I grabbed my heavy green blanket and stole out to the hallway. Not the regular hallway. The one by the front door that no one else used.

I leaned against the wall, my bare feet flat on the cold floor, my knees scrunched up into me. I pulled the blanket tighter, fighting the all-too-familiar panic attack — alone. I didn’t want to wake anyone up. I couldn’t text friends because they were asleep. Often in my life, the battles fought at night have been the loneliest.

But then footsteps sounded. My mom’s slippers hitting the hard wood. I stayed silent. She walked by, but didn’t look down the hallway. I debated. I could call out, but then she’d be burdened by my struggles. She’d miss out on sleep.

The footsteps sounded again and her phone’s flashlight bobbed down the hallway, back into her room. Now I felt even more alone, hopeless for support and help. Maybe you’re feeling invisible right now, too. It might not be a panic attack in the dead of night. Maybe you’re a caregiver, sacrificing your needs and dreams for someone you love. Or perhaps you’re a mom, striving to juggle everything and everyone, doing work that no one sees.

Maybe you’re a college student or missionary, facing the loneliness of living far away from family — watching birthdays and adventures happen on Facebook  . . . without you. Maybe you’re a bridesmaid watching your best friend covenant herself to a new best friend, while you don’t even have a date. Perhaps you’re on the other side of that happy occasion, signing papers you never thought you’d sign, alone in a bed you used to share. Or maybe you’re smiling and hiding your way through waves of an aching, clawing grief . . . invisible to the people you know and every passerby.

I remember one morning, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. I looked into my own eyes in shock. My face looked . . . normal. My smile didn’t seem fake. Yet my mind and body were screaming out in pain from the chronic illness ravaging my body. How on earth did I look so put together?

Invisible suffering hurts because God did not design us to be invisible. He designed us to be seen. And in the seeing, loved. That is in the very fiber of our being. The fact that we all feel this core desire so acutely points to the reality of our design. Even in Scripture, we see this yearning.

In Psalm 142, David cries out, “Look and see, there is no one at my right hand; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life.” Feeling invisible, David begs God to see him. Does your heart cry out just like David’s?

That night in the hallway, I didn’t speak up for my mom to hear me. But I did start whispering to my God. I tried to ask Him to come close to me. I tried to ask Him to be with me. But mostly all I could manage was, “Jesus, help.” Because when no one else sees, God does. Though everyone was asleep, this remained true for me: “He will not let your foot slip — he who watches over you will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3).

Friend, He sees you. He sees the behind-the-scenes work you do. He sees the pain you hide. He sees the burdens you bear without complaint. He sees. And there are sisters who see, too.

God gave me such a sister. One day, while staying at a friend’s house, another panic attack hit. No one noticed my unobstrusive disappearance. In a tucked away corner I tried all the tools my counselor had given me to calm myself down. But Esther noticed — and Esther came looking for me. She walked into the bedroom. I heard her pause as she looked around. I thought she was going to turn around. But then she stepped further in. She saw me. She didn’t say anything. But she slid down the wall and sat next to me. She was there. And I was not alone.

Like God, she not only saw me, she saw me and entered in — when I let her.

You are not alone in your invisible suffering. I know that truth is so hard to hold onto sometimes. But today I’m wondering if you’ll do something with me. Will you take a deep breath, choose to believe this truth, and be brave with me? Will you vulnerably pray, “Jesus, help.” Or text your sister in Christ, “I need a listening ear.”

I know it’s not easy. Before Esther, there were so many unseen, desperate days. Even when I prayed “Jesus, help” it didn’t magically mean I felt seen. But eventually, God met me in the quiet, and my sisters started to sit with me.

It might take time. But they are there and they want to be with you. And when there is no one, there is God. He is present in our invisible suffering. So let’s keep hoping and keep believing in the truth. Together.