3 Things to Do When You’re Disappointed

3 Things to Do When You’re Disappointed

by

We always pray for you, and we give thanks to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. For we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and your love for all of God’s people, which come from your confident hope of what God has reserved for you in heaven. You have had this expectation ever since you first heard the truth of the Good News.

This same Good News that came to you is going out all over the world. It is bearing fruit everywhere by changing lives, just as it changed your lives from the day you first heard and understood the truth about God’s wonderful grace.
Colossians 1:3-6

There are so many things in life that let us down. Friendships can fracture. Finances can falter. A spouse can fail you, a dream can crumble, a job can get taken away. When we trust in our health, our government, and even our church, we will eventually face disappointment.

But there is one thing, One Person, we can place our confident hope in and never be disappointed: Jesus and His gospel.

Being in a relationship with Jesus changes everything! Whether you’ve been a Christian for decades or you’re just beginning to explore your faith, God’s wonderful grace in active and available for you today.

If you’re weighed down by disappointment or unmet expectations, here are 3 things you can do:

  1. Be honest with God. Talk to God about your pain and disappointment. He can handle your brutal honesty, which is the foundation for growth and intimacy.
  2. Think about heaven. It’s so easy to get bogged down with today’s problems that we can forget our future’s promises. Even as struggles persist, we can be confident that our future is secure in Jesus.
  3. Tell God what you need. When you are intentional about sharing your specific needs with God, you will be more aware of the ways He is moving and providing!

Remember this: God delights in meeting His kids’ needs. If Jesus loved you so much that He offered His very life for you, then there is no limit to the impact of His Good News and wonderful grace.

 

A Beautiful Inheritance

by

Lord, you are my portion
and my cup of blessing;
you hold my future.
The boundary lines have fallen for me
in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
Psalm 16:5-6 CSB

I’m not proud of a lot in my past, but you know what? My past is what makes me who I am because it defines the boundaries of my life. The enemy tries to use my past to derail my future because he’s absolutely terrified I’ll be unstoppable if I get this right. He’ll use yours against you too. The enemy will want you so focused on yourself and your pain that you can’t begin to be there for someone else. So even though I’m not proud of everything I’ve ever done, I’m incredibly grateful for my life and my inheritance.

Our one job is to possess our land, to own our inheritance, to accept it. Every single, messy inch of it. This means we have to stop hiding from our past. It’s hard to face the past. We all have things we desperately wish weren’t there. But when we surrender our lives to God, He’ll redeem our past for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

I cringe when I recall the life I lived in the decades before I accepted Jesus as my Savior. But I know those days shaped me into the woman I am today. I can easily connect with a woman dealing with infertility because I dealt with it too. It was a hard, hard season in my life, but God got me through, and if I can help even one woman get through it, then the pain and the tears were worth it!

There is nothing on earth you’ve gone through that He doesn’t understand. He knows all about your past and He knows about your future too — the good, the bad, the ugly. Every single bit of your land and life has a purpose. And you can trust Him with all of it.

This excerpt is by Kate Battestelli, 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!

On Divine Timing, New Friendships, and Learning Something New

by

I do love God’s timing. I do love a new friend. And I do love learning something new. This is one such story in which the Lord recently showed me just how good He is and how much He loves me through all of these ways.

In September of last year, I met a woman named Angela. She is a Bible teacher, a writer, and for all intents and purposes, a genius. Honestly, I haven’t ever met many people with the unique kind of intelligence and revelation that she possesses. We met at a conference at a nearby church. It was one of those events where everyone was hungry for God and for His glory to fall. And fall it did, and then some. There was lingering worship and a weighty biblical message. It was also the kind of event that lasted into the morning.

Angela and I met and connected late that night. It was one of the best conversations I’ve ever had. I wanted to chat more, but it was around 1 a.m., so, we did the next best thing and exchanged numbers. Then, you know what I did next? Nothing. I completely forgot to reach out to her to get together and so did she. Eight months went by before we would see each other again.

A few weeks ago, I was at a ladies night event, and Angela spoke. The whole time she was speaking I kept thinking she looked and sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place her. At the end of the night, I approached her to ask about her inner healing ministry. As we talked, eventually we figured out how we had met before as I had looked familiar to her as well.

Then, it happened. I asked her to pray over me before I left.

Proverbs 15:23 came alive in me. “A person takes joy in giving an answer; and a timely word — how good that is!”

At this time, I was still reeling from two experiences of being uninvited, feeling that deep pain, and trying to heal. When Angela prayed over me, the love of God began to pour out. As His love poured out, the tears began to flow. It was as if a floodgate had opened. She shared a prophetic word that spoke into my exact situation and hurt. I felt seen and welcomed by the Father.

It was the sweetest time I had had with the Lord in a while.

The next weekend, Angela was teaching at a church. I knew that I needed to be there. I had this sense of expectancy that the Lord wanted to do something. With each message that she shared, God brought so much revelation and illumination. I told her that she broke my brain in all of the best ways. It was that, but it was so much more. Much of what God showed me was a completely new revelation. The rest was Him breathing fresh breath on old truths. Afterward, I asked her to pray for some physical healing in my body.

Again, the Lord showed up as Angela prayed. More tears. More healing. More of His love poured out. I walked away with such joy and freedom and hope.

It was a timely word indeed. The Lord reminded me that He is good in all ways, at all times. He takes everything meant for evil and turns it around for our good.

When I can’t see His hand at work, I can still trust that He is moving. I can trust that His timing is perfect.

In 1 Thessalonians 5, Paul writes to the church to remind them that the Lord is coming again. He lays out how they should be loving and living as that day approaches. In verse 11, he encourages them to continue to build each other up, just as they were in fact doing.

These past few weeks, in His divine timing, God placed Angela back in my life to be a part of encouraging me and building me up. I’m learning to trust God in new and deeper ways. I believe this wasn’t just for me. It’s for you as well, the Church, His daughters.

The love and care of God is real and is for you. He cares about the smallest concerns in our lives, like finding a close parking space, to the biggest concerns of an illness. He cares just as much about that broken heart that falls somewhere in between.

Sometimes, I forget. I forget about God’s goodness and grace for me amid life being life. Perhaps you find yourself in the middle of that season. Well, this is your reminder that the Lord sees you. He hears you. He loves you. He wants to show up in your life with a beautiful and lasting work of His Spirit.

If you have a testimony of God’s faithfulness, I’d love to hear it! But, if you find yourself in a hard season, needing a reminder of God’s divine timing and love for you, I’d love to pray for you!

 

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

 

6 Key Practices for Life-Giving Conversations

by

The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back and swallow them. I hadn’t said anything profane or improper. Still, I felt my stomach twist with regret, the surest sign that the conversation would’ve been better served if I’d left a few of my words unsaid.

Moments before, a close friend called to vent about a difficult situation she was navigating. Having been friends for some time, I was familiar with the situation and had some equally strong opinions about it. So when she shared the most recent update, it didn’t take me any time to blurt out my opinionated commentary.

I’ll spare you the recreation of my less-than-gracious words. Suffice it to say, what I lacked in restraint I made up for with criticism and complaint. The result? Regret.

I’ve often struggled to find the line between processing real-life hurts with trusted friends and oversharing with unnecessary criticism. Am I the only one? As a Jesus-follower, I find it difficult to know when, where, how, and what to share about the more complicated situations involving people and relationships.

Where is the line between honest dialogue and gossip? Is it possible to simply vent about a difficult situation without oversharing or being unkind? How do I communicate with honesty, empathy, and grace?

The longer I live, the more I think these questions have answers that are more gray than black-and-white. Relationships and the conversations we share within them are nuanced, and they require wisdom and discernment. At times, we need to create safe spaces with trusted relationships to talk through the complexities of life and interactions. At other times, we need to process in private, sharing our biggest hurts and frustrations with God alone. More often than not, it’s a combination of both of these.

When in doubt, I often consider Solomon’s words in Proverbs 17:

The one who has knowledge uses words with restraint,
and whoever has understanding is even-tempered.

Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent,
and discerning if they hold their tongues.
Proverbs 17:27-28

When it comes to our conversations, Solomon advises us to practice skills like restraint, moderation, and even silence at times. In other words, less is more. And for this woman who is a “more” kind of woman, Solomon’s counsel hits its mark.

Although it’s taken me years, I am slowly learning temperance in my speech. I still overspeak, far too often. But I’m also seeing the wisdom in restraint, of pressing pause on my commentary and allowing some things to be left unsaid outside the confines of my intimacy with God Himself. In short, here are 6 key practices for all of us who want less regret in our relationships and, instead, more life-giving conversations:

6 Key Practices for Life-Giving Conversations

  1. Pause and pray. You don’t need to make it long and drawn out or complicated. Your prayer might be as simple as the words of Psalm 19:14: “May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.”
  2. Add journaling and/or solitude to your daily practice. If you’re an external processor, you might want to add journaling to your daily practices. I find journaling my angst keeps it from spilling over on the people around me and the conversations we share. Let’s be clear: I have a lot of words. My relationships would likely be better served by allowing some of those words to land on paper rather than in their ears. For those of you who are internal processors, make sure you block chunks of solitude to give your brain time to process before you speak. Like journaling, it allows you to find clarity before you engage in a loaded conversation.
  3. Learn the art of question-asking. For many of us, offering our point of view requires little effort. However, inquiring about another’s experience is often overlooked in our haste to speak. Wisdom involves learning the art of asking thoughtful questions. If in doubt, start with things like, “Tell me more” or “Help me understand your perspective. It matters to me.”
  4. Listen with openness. Openness requires humility. Although you may feel confident that you are right, openness allows for the possibility that you might be wrong or your perspective incomplete. To listen, we must put our rebuttals and responses to the side to fully engage with what the other person is saying. Did I mention it this requires humility?
  5. Utilize empathy and validation. Again, this is where restraint comes into play. To communicate true empathy and validate another’s experience, we must restrain the urge to blurt out our point of view. Instead, we enter into the other person’s experience, allow ourselves to feel what they feel, and then communicate understanding.
  6. Take responsibility and apologize. Why is this a key to life-giving conversations? Because we’re going to get it wrong sometimes. As long as we’re on this side of heaven, perfection isn’t possible. Learn how to recognize when you’ve said too much or said the wrong thing. Go back, own it, and apologize. Then, move on. Sometimes our mistakes are the best opportunities for developing stronger skills.

Being a positive part of life-giving conversations takes intentionality and practice. If the sting of regret over something you said still plagues you, give number 6 a try. Then move on and seek to do better. Ask God for wisdom. Receive His grace upon grace.

 

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

When You Feel Lonely, Remember This

by

One of the deepest forms of loneliness creeps in when you least expect it: when others surround you.

Have you ever experienced this ache in your spirit?

Maybe you’ve been at a party, swirls of laughter and conversation mingling around you, but you felt a bit outside the fray. Or perhaps you attended a reunion with friends or family, but left feeling like those closest to you didn’t understand you as much as you’d hoped.

Loneliness is an ache to be seen, understood, and loved.

And when loneliness wraps its tendrils around you, it’s suffocating.

Recent studies show that one in two Americans report struggling with loneliness, to the point that the U.S. Surgeon General called loneliness an “epidemic.”

I’m in a season of caring for young kids, and while I rarely have a moment alone, I’ve experienced deep loneliness. (I don’t recommend scrolling social media when you feel lonely – the false connections only exacerbate the lies. And oh, how loneliness lies to us.)

Maybe you’ve heard these lies, too:

  • Nobody else feels this way.
  • I’m worth ignoring.
  • Nobody really cares or understands me.
  • If I were more ____, I wouldn’t feel so lonely.

When I feel the weight of feeling forgotten, of wondering if my place in this world matters to others, it’s easy to experience a cascade of lies.

I begin to believe I’m the only one carrying the weight of loneliness. I’m the only one on the outside looking in. This snowballs into other struggles: inadequacy, insecurity, and insignificance.

The biggest lie loneliness tells is that you’re the only one. But everyone – and I mean everyone – has felt lonely: The sister with the picture-perfect Facebook is going through a divorce and feels like the only one with no one to come home to. The highly-successful coworker is drinking too much and wonders if she is the only one who feels so lonely. The pastor is holding deep doubts and feels like a fraud.

Loneliness is often unseen. And it festers in the darkness.

I’ll be honest: I’ve struggled to name my loneliness because it leaves me vulnerable.

What if I tell someone that at a place I was supposed to feel happy, I felt lonely instead? Will they judge me? Will they say it’s my fault for feeling lonely while surrounded by other people? Will they say other people have it worse? Or that maybe I feel lonely because deep down, something is wrong with me?

I wish I had an antidote to the loneliness epidemic. Unfortunately, I’m no spiritual pharmacist. I have no magic potions to fix our souls.

But I do know that I can quiet the lies that swarm my spirit with two things: honesty and hope.

First, I have to be honest. I have to be vulnerable with myself, God, and maybe another person. I have to name the loneliness: When I was at dinner with those friends, I felt lonely. I felt like I didn’t belong.

Loneliness does not last forever. When you name your loneliness, it begins to lose power. Does this mean your loneliness is instantly cured? No. But you can call it for what it is and move through it with hope.

We combat the lies of loneliness with hard-won honesty and stubborn hope.

So, name your loneliness. And then remind yourself that the lies of loneliness don’t get the final say:

“I’m lonely, but…”

  • …this feeling won’t last forever.
  • …everyone feels lonely sometimes.
  • …even when I don’t feel like it, I matter.
  • …my Father in Heaven isn’t ambivalent about my existence.
  • …Jesus understands feeling misunderstood.
  • …the Spirit of God is with me.
  • …I’m surrounded by love, and I’m called beloved.

When we remember that feeling lonely is normal – but we don’t have to succumb to the lies of loneliness – we can begin to see through the fog.  

Loneliness is linked to our sense of belonging. But the truth is that we belong to God. And despite all our messiness and imperfection, we find our belonging in each other, too.

When I’m lonely, I don’t always know what to pray. But I don’t have to have the words, nor do you. We can borrow this short prayer from Psalm 25:16:

“Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.”

When loneliness lies to you, remember that God is with you, that feeling lonely is normal, and that this season won’t last forever. May your experiences in loneliness grow empathy and compassion in you. And may we remember that even though life is infinitely complicated, we are better together.

(If you get the inkling that you’re feeling more than loneliness and experiencing deeper depression or feelings of worthlessness, talk to your doctor or a licensed counselor. You don’t have to power through this alone.)

 

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

God Knows Where I’m Headed Even If I Don’t

by

I remember waking up and feeling this overwhelming heaviness.

“Happy Birthday! You’re thirty!” my husband smiled and shouted, excited for the day that lay ahead of us.

I walked out to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee, and looked out to see the boats crossing into the marina. I was at my favorite place with my favorite people, and life was far more generous than I deserved. Yet, I couldn’t shake this feeling I had.

I grabbed my headphones, turned on my worship playlist, and started on my favorite walking trail. As I walked past the bluest hydrangeas and worship played in my ears, I could feel my spirit settle down. As I started to unpack all the thoughts in my head, I realized that I had created quite lofty expectations for myself upon reaching thirty years old. With previous birthdays, the expectations were less clear. But thirty? It felt different and monumental. The snowball had already started in my head and was gaining traction quickly.

“Should I have a kid by now?” (So many of my friends do.)
“If I would have committed to _____ sooner, I would be way farther along.”
“I wonder if I had done _____, would _____ be different?”
“Did I miss anything along the way?”

I was asking God all these questions, fully aware I was not giving Him space to speak nor myself the capacity to hear Him if He did.

Now, calm down. I know when hearing a thirty-year-old whine about their age, we all want to do a quick eye roll and move on, but hang with me here for a moment.

My overwhelmed and discouraged spirit had nothing to do with my age and everything to do with the picture I was painting in my mind. This new decade felt significant, and all of a sudden, I wondered, “Lord, do I measure up?”

Have you ever allowed your perspective to be distorted by the pace of those around you? Assumed a story to be true based on the expectations you didn’t realize you had until you were disappointed?

As Jesus’ firm and gentle hands held my heart, He reminded me, “Cleere, dear one, trust that I can get you wherever I want you to go. You aren’t behind. We aren’t behind. I am right on time.”

Unwavering peace started to flood my soul as my worry dispersed like the waves I passed along the shoreline.

The temporary dissatisfaction I was experiencing was because my eyes were on everyone else around me, instead of on the One who made me. He’s the only One who knows my soul, my purpose, and the unique path I follow with Him.

Looking back, it is so easy to see how the enemy wanted me to stay inside my own head, throw a pity party, and live in that discouragement instead of focusing on what was right in front of me! He used the false story I wrote in my head to weave a web of insecurity, uncertainty, and discouragement. He knew that if I stayed on that track, he could kick back, put his feet up, and I would do all the work for him.

But Jesus. He reminded me through His Word that the enemy was not going to have my mindset or my day. My joy was not up for grabs. 

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
John 10:10

Jesus did not sacrifice, serve, and sanctify me so I can just “get by.” He wants me to have a full life, and He has already determined my inheritance. It is sure, good, and perfect, and gratitude and praise should encompass my life.

“Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.”
Psalm 16:5-6

So whether we’re thirty, forty, or eighty, whether we have seven children or are struggling to have any, whether we’re in the midst of suffering or feeling like we’re on top of a mountain, whether we’ve achieved all we’d hoped for or feel immensely behind, God sees us. He is big enough to get us where He wants us to go no matter how long it takes us to get there. His specialty is “all of a sudden.” His nature is being a miracle worker. His grace is sufficient, and His strength sustains us all the way there.

Devotion by Cleere Cherry Reaves

—

Imagine if a word like joy or worship or release flowed through your life for seven days straight. What if you quit worrying about where you fall short and aspired instead to one simple truth per week for seven straight days?

The Focus Journal: 52 Weeks to a More Intentional Life by Cleere Cherry Reaves gives you the opportunity to focus on one important word each week. Why one word? Because trying to focus on too many things at once, even spiritual things, can cause increased anxiety in our lives. Attempting to live out every spiritual principle and practice we’ve learned can frequently feel overwhelming. To help solve this problem, Cleere offers a short devotion, a prayer prompt, and space to reflect on your experiences with each word. The Focus Journal will help you release stress and overcome perfectionism anxiety so you can experience genuine, ongoing, spiritual transformation

Pick up your copy of The Focus Journal today, and leave a comment below to enter to WIN one of five copies*!

 

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

Giveaway is open until 6/23/23 at 11:59 pm central to US addresses only.

When You Can’t Catch Their Every Tear

by

We welcome him into our bed, our little guy. Except he isn’t so little anymore. He’s five years old and tall with lengthy limbs. Into the bed he comes, carrying his favorite books and stuffed animals until we are all squished — Mom, Dad, and our not-so-little boy.

He sleeps with us when he can’t sleep, or when we need to separate him from our two-year-old toddler who takes forever and a day to fall asleep . . . and stay asleep.

We put on the diffuser, dim the lights, and play his favorite soothing music. We accommodate him to the best of our ability, making space for this not-so-little son of ours.

One night, while the three of us were all scrunched asleep in our full-size bed, the soothing music that was streaming from our iPad stopped playing. The sound abruptly transitioned to a playlist with upbeat music. I awoke, stepped out of bed, and turned off the iPad. But, in no less than fifteen seconds, I heard rustling from our bed and a quiet voice that followed.

“Why’d you turn the iPad off?” asked my son.

“The music stopped playing,” I said. “It’s okay, just close your eyes and go back to sleep,” I reassured him.

Then he mumbled something, a whining sound that pulled and twisted my ears. Too tired in the wee hours of the morning to decipher what he was saying, I rolled into bed and told him again to go back to sleep . . . again. But then came the tears — a silent sniffling, a whimpering that he tried to conceal as he cried while burrowed in the blankets.

Every fiber of my being wanted to swoop in and save him, wipe away the tears, and stop them from coming. But the truth is . . . I wanted to cry too, right there, squished in that bed and sandwiched between all my own emotions.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” I asked him, checking my phone to see just how early this “wee in the morning” was. (It was 4:15.)

He paused for a few seconds, then calmly whispered, “I just don’t like being squished in small spaces.” Small spaces, meaning our full-size bed was not big enough for the three of us. It’s his most common complaint when he spends the night in our bed. There are too many people. There’s not enough space. I need more room. You need a bigger bed, he says.

As he cried, I realized — I wanted to cry, too. Because he was right — our full-size bed isn’t all that big . . . but it is all we can afford. Our full-size bed, along with our rented, pinched-for-space townhome with no backyard, is the best we have to give right now. It’s all we have to give.

And did he know, as I held back tears of my own, right then and there at 4:15 AM, that I’ll never be able to give him all he wants and needs? Because I am only human and there will always be some gaping need, longing, or lack that I cannot fix or fulfill.

I didn’t cry at that moment, but I did tell him that if he needed more space, he could go to his room and spread out in his own bed. So, off he went — closing the door behind him. As I lay there, I thought about how I’d been in this place before — hearing or seeing or even just fearing the fall of someone else’s tears while knowing there was nothing I could do to fix the world for them, or change their situation, or save the day, or give them something better.

It’s the place of not being able to catch someone else’s every tear, not being able to meet their every need or fulfill their every dream or desire. And, there comes a time when we step out of the shimmering illusion, the lie that we can be everything all at once and that we can save everyone. There comes a time when, sandwiched between the end of ourselves and the need of someone else, we realize — we’re not meant or made to shoulder it all, to sustain it all.

There is no interior well, wide or deep enough, from which we can live out all our good intentions or our fiercest love. There is only One who can deeply and fully meet and shepherd our loved ones in and through their every longing, loneliness, and loss.

When I realize I can’t meet the wants, wishes, and needs of others, I learn to instead, release them to the only One who can. This looks less like bending myself into impossible shapes to save the day and more like praying for the people and places I care for.

This looks less like making promises and looks more like embracing (and even explaining to others) my reality, limitations, and how disappointments and desires sometimes persist on this side of heaven.

This looks less like stiffening up at the cascade of toddler tears or disgruntled complaints from my not-so-little boy, and more like teaching him how I have entrusted him into the spacious and gracious hands of the only One who can hold all things, all people.

God is the only one who can — deeply and fully — catch and care for our every wish, dream, want, need, joy, heartbreak, fear, and tear. May we come to Him and cry on Him — for every little and not-so-little thing.

 

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

The Gift of a Grilled Cheese

by

At three o’clock on a cold winter morning, I found myself making a grilled cheese sandwich.

Our foster child, a nine-year-old girl from Mexico was to get on a plane and finally be reunited with her parents after five years of separation. I asked her if she was hungry and with her hair a little disheveled and eyes not quite used to the kitchen light, she nodded yes.

“¿Qué te gustaría comer?,” I asked, wanting to know what she’d like to eat. “Pan con queso,” she replied. Easy, I thought. Just a simple grilled cheese.

I spread butter on the bread, heated up the pan, and the scent of hot toast and melted cheese quickly filled the room. I remembered another time in my life when grilled cheese made a frequent appearance: right after college, while working in a group home for teenage girls in New York City. I was taking care of kids that were not much younger than myself, though the circumstances of our lives couldn’t have been more different.

I grew up in the Midwest in a safe and loving home with two parents, two brothers, and our dog. We played outside with our neighbors. We took the bus to school. We went to church on Sundays. We had home-cooked meals and ate dinner together as a family every night.

But for these teenage girls in New York City, relationships with family were unstable, impacted by illness or poverty or addiction . . . or a world of other issues outside of their control. They had often moved and switched schools multiple times, ultimately being separated from the ones that they loved.

My job in the group home was to help with everyday tasks. I woke the girls up in the mornings and made sure they got to school. I took them to doctor’s appointments and on excursions to the movies or the record store. And, occasionally, I would cook them breakfast or an after-school snack.

The government provided us with staple ingredients each week, always including a loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and a brick of butter. So one day, I asked one of the girls if she wanted a grilled cheese sandwich. As soon as I made that first sandwich, the floodgates opened. Another girl saw the sandwich and asked for one for herself — then another girl and another. Soon enough, I had used the whole loaf of bread and the entire block of cheese.

It was such a simple meal, a simple act, but I knew it meant something more. I knew this because one of the ways that I felt loved as a child was when my mom cooked something special for me. Even now, I can imagine her making cinnamon sugar toast by heating up buttered bread between pieces of wax paper on the ironing board.

The Bible is full of stories about Jesus sharing simple meals with people in their homes. Alongside His words and teaching, Jesus’ life highlights the small gestures of care that He gave others.

In John 21, Jesus appears to His disciples who were fishing but not catching anything. He tells them to throw their net on the right side of the boat and, when they do, they catch so many fish that they can barely haul them in. After such a miracle, what happens next could be overlooked.

“Jesus said to them, ‘Bring some of the fish you have just caught.’ So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ None of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.”
John 21:9-13

“Come and have breakfast.” Just four words but filled with so much love and care.

So often when we are trying to make a difference in the world — or even in our own families — we focus on grand gestures and big plans. We might underestimate what a small gesture can mean, like making a little something for your child, the kid next door, your elderly neighbor, or your overwhelmed friend.

When our foster child finished the grilled cheese sandwich and put the empty plate on the kitchen counter, she smiled at me and, expressing gratitude, said, “Gracias.” I gave her a hug because I was the one filled with so much gratitude for being able to be a part of her life — even if only for a few weeks.

I tried to smile and hold back tears, praying she’d know and feel my love through this moment . . . and through this grilled cheese sandwich.

It’s Time to Experience the Lord’s Goodness

by

Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
Psalm 34:8

God’s goodness isn’t something we are meant to simply acknowledge intellectually or believe theologically. Rather, God wants us to actively experience His goodness.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good,” the psalmist encourages. It’s a call to engage our most human senses in order to recognize and enjoy our divine Creator.

As summer is upon us, look for opportunities to taste and see that which reflects God’s goodness. Savor a cold glass of homemade lemonade or bite into a juicy piece of watermelon. Enjoy watching red tomatoes grow in your garden or the summer sunset along the horizon with streaks of gold, pink, and dusty violet.

Let everything you taste and see become a reminder to turn in thanks to the Giver of all good things. Let His goodness compel you to seek refuge in Him.

 

When You Don’t Feel Like Forgiving

by

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

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

“Don’t let the age of this book fool you,” my mom said. “Check out page 39.”

I curled my fingers around the tattered copy of Catherine Marshall’s Something More, completely unimpressed. I hate awkward moments, so I pretended not to notice the yellow, outdated pages and took it. If nothing else, I could relate to its worn-out cover.

“Thanks,” I said and tucked it in my purse, planning to keep it long enough so she would forget she’d given it to me.

The past month had been rough, leaving me feeling more like a beat-up old book than the cheerful mom I wanted to be. As I considered my actions, I wasn’t impressed: impatience with the kids, annoyance with every little snag in my day, focused on the negative, and unable to see the positive.

I was suffering from unforgiveness. While I didn’t realize I needed to forgive and didn’t feel like forgiving, I turned to page 39 in Marshall’s book and read:

“(To forgive) can be a simple prayer like, ‘Lord, I release from my judgment.’”

It seemed too easy, but I did know that forgiveness was my only way out of the emotional stew of bad behavior. The trouble was that I didn’t have the energy to feel it or to bring the required oomph this kind of forgiveness required. So with a sliver of hope, I took a breath and read the prayer, filling in the blank. I felt nothing. Zip. Nada. No watershed moment. No holy healing, hands-in-the-air hallelujah. Just me, still sitting awkwardly in the car, still and worn out as the book in my hand. I was unsure of what to do next, but sure that I’d been at this stop sign for far too long — even for a small town. I turned to the next yellowed page and three words stopped me short: “A non-emotional release.”

Non-emotional. That was exactly how I felt. I didn’t feel forgiving, and it would take days for me to notice the change, but in meekly forcing that thought through my head, in saying the words, something shifted. I was no longer in charge of this person’s accountability. I felt light, like my muscles could move, finally out from under the resentment I’d been heaping on week after week.

I am ridiculously capable of building my own prison. God’s gift of forgiveness is like a key. He keeps the original but has gone to the hardware store to make us a duplicate, ensuring we’re never left out in the cold. He first forgives us, then gives us the grace to forgive others even when we don’t feel forgiving, His Spirit loosening hinges we didn’t realize were rusted tight.

And it doesn’t make sense. God’s peace beyond understanding restores my soul for the millionth time, and I’m left with gratitude, like a fresh new book, pages crisp and ready to be turned once again for the first time.

This excerpt is by Evi Wusk, as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible. 

—

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!

 

We Can Graciously Disagree with Each Other

by

In high school, one of my favorite movies  was “You’ve Got Mail.”

Call it the writer in me, I loved everything from the plot set in a bookstore to Frank’s obsession with typewriters and Kathleen Kelly’s (played by the spunky Meg Ryan) desire to send her online friend a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils on the first day of school.

There are also the quotable lines. Who can forget Joe’s (a la Tom Hank) impression of the Godfather? Or his bit about Starbucks’ orders? I practically have that movie memorized, but the line that has sunk deep in my soul is Joe’s warning to Kathleen about the power of words.

Throughout the movie, the two protagonists war over their respective bookstores, making snarky comments to each other in the process. But at one point, Joe tells Kathleen to watch what she says, because “When you finally have the pleasure of saying the things you mean to say, at the moment you mean to say it, remorse usually follows.”

Don’t you just love that line?

It’s so true!

There are so many moments in my life that I can recall just laying a zinger on someone. You know, those “trump cards” to win an argument or to shut the other person down. Though it might feel good in the moment to truly say everything that I’m feeling, I have always felt horrible afterward.

Sharp, unfiltered words cause people pain.

I don’t care how long I’ve been dreaming about just letting someone have it. I don’t care how many “shower talks” I’ve had where I’ve rehearsed my argument and nailed every word I wanted to say. When it comes to real life, disagreeing with someone in loud, harsh ways never leads to productive conversation.

Like Kathleen Kelly in “You’ve Got Mail,” I’ve learned the importance of graciously disagreeing with the people in my life.

Christians aren’t called to never disagree with people. But Scripture does call us to disagree in healthy, appropriate ways.

Proverbs 15:1 says, “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”

I love how this verse puts gentleness and harshness on opposite sides of the spectrum. It’s not that we can’t be angry or frustrated when someone says something we disagree with. Sometimes people really do say upsetting things. But when someone really riles us up, when someone does or says something that just gets our blood boiling, the way of Christ is to respond with gentleness, not harshness.

To be harsh is to be cruel. It’s to position our words in such a way that we hurt the other person, perhaps in the same way that they’ve hurt us. To be gentle doesn’t mean we can’t speak the truth. But when we give someone “a gentle answer,” we do so without aggression or arrogance. We speak in such a way that we show our care for the other person as a human being made in the image of God. And we speak in soft, kind ways for the purpose of better understanding the other person, connecting with them, and developing mutual respect.

One of the ways I’ve learned to be gracious with people I disagree with is by choosing to ask open-ended questions.

For example, if I’m conversing with someone who holds an opposing position, I might ask:

  1. What got you interested in this topic?
  2. What do you feel is your biggest fear when it comes to this topic?
  3. What do you wish would happen regarding this topic?
  4. Has this topic impacted you personally? If so, would you be open to sharing about it?
  5. What does the future hold if nothing changes around this topic?

These types of questions help me attune my heart and mind to the other person.

Instead of just blurting out the first angry thought that comes into my mind, taking time to formulate a thoughtful question slows me down, helps me get my breathing and heart under control, and allows me to try to extend an olive branch to the other person.

In fact, the more I genuinely try to get to know the other person, the more my anger subsides. Because as our conversation persists, I learn more about their experiences (good and bad), their hopes, their frustrations, and their dreams for the future. The more I listen, the more I’m able to humanize the other person and see them for who they truly are: a child made in God’s image.

Listening to each other’s stories and needs fosters true understanding, which leads to deeper care and affection for one another. Even if two Christians still have to part ways at the end of a disagreement, they can do so knowing that they chose the path of gentleness, kindness, and respect.

The next time you find yourself disagreeing with someone, choose the path of gentleness and grace. Who knows what doors of connection and understanding God will open for you?! 

 

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

Grief and God’s Unexpected Mercy

by

One way God extended a hand of mercy to me was through my community. The grief journey is strange and unpredictable. I will forever be grateful for the dear friends who stepped onto the windy, uphill path of grief with me — including a man named Shawn.

I had met Shawn at the same time I met my late husband, Ericlee, on a mission trip to Haiti. Shawn and Ericlee were good friends from high school who shared many interests and passions. Shawn became my prayer partner on that trip and eventually was instrumental in bringing Ericlee and me together.

Shawn was a groomsman in our wedding and offered a toast at the reception. We traveled with Shawn. He visited us and celebrated the births of our three children with us. Through the years he supported our nonprofit in Haiti both prayerfully and financially.

Two years prior to Ericlee’s death, Shawn was sitting in church and his pastor was preaching a series about God’s heart for widows, orphans, refugees, and the poor. Something pricked Shawn’s heart as he thought about his own mother, who was a widow living in California. Shawn lived in Maryland at the time but felt like God was calling him to move back home to help care for his mother. Ericlee and I prayed for Shawn as he looked for jobs in California, which was where we lived.

Ericlee was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in May of the following year. The news hit us all like a sucker punch to the gut. Shawn came to visit that summer.

We didn’t realize that was the last time we would all be together. Ericlee graduated to heaven that September.

The week of Ericlee’s funeral Shawn got a call from UCLA. They wanted to interview him for a position. It just so happened he already had tickets to travel through Los Angeles to the funeral and could do the interview in person. The following Monday they offered him the job. This wasn’t a coincidence. In fact, this was just the beginning of how our sovereign God orchestrated every detail of Shawn’s life to join with mine.

We kindled our relationship over many months. Shawn was the person who listened to me cry on the phone. He prayed over me. This was God’s mercy — sending me a friend who loved Ericlee dearly and didn’t put expectations on me through the grief journey.

Shawn drove from Los Angeles to Fresno to visit us on the weekends and spent quality time with the girls and me. Eventually, I began to look at him in a new way. My heart was opening, and those seeds of hope sprouted as God began to unfold His wild plan for our future. Despite my worries, our friends and families gave us their resounding blessing.

On our wedding day, our Author-God invited my three young daughters and me into a redeemed story only He could write. Out of our brokenness, God was bringing abundance.

More than seven hundred people filled the church to celebrate with us. These were the people who had prayed for Ericlee’s healing and grieved with us. These were the people who stood by my side on my darkest days and lifted me up. That day in January was not just our wedding. It was a glory story our community wanted to be a part of because it spoke volumes about God’s mercy and grace.

Shawn and I exchanged our vows under a painted red sign that proclaimed the word glory because we wanted everyone who attended our wedding to know that God was the one who deserved all the glory for bringing us together.

When I look back over our wedding pictures, joy and wonder still bubble up in my spirit. We laughed, we cried, we feasted, and we danced. God provided for all of us in a way we could not have imagined. He brought beauty from the ashes.

Friend, we serve a God of mercy. It’s part of His character. Not every widow’s story will turn out like mine. Not everyone will experience grief the same way my family has. But I know that the God of mercy is longing to meet you in your circumstances too.

I return to the words of David: “You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!” (Psalm 30:11–12).

I’m so excited to share with you Create in Me a Heart of Mercy.

It’s the final study in our series of four transformational Bible studies. If you loved Heart of Hope, Heart of Peace, and Heart of Wisdom, you’ll love this! But you can also just jump right into Heart of Mercy, which is now available wherever books are sold, including:

This Bible study was heart-and-life-changing to write, and I believe it’s going to help you encounter God and fall in love with His Word in fresh ways too.

Get your copy now because our online Bible study starts MONDAY! (I can’t wait to talk together about all things wisdom and Jesus with you!) FIND ALL THE ONLINE BIBLE STUDY DETAILS HERE. And be sure to SIGN UP so we can send you the first week of the Create in Me a Heart of Mercy + a printable of Scripture memory verses for FREE! You’ll also get first access to the teaching videos and more.

Join the online study and let’s seek hearts of mercy — together.

 

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

The Path to Worry Free (Are You a Pathfinder?)

by

Recently, I was in the middle of mindlessly scrolling on TikTok, and in between the videos of summer fashion finds and a dog being rescued after seven months in a shelter (the algorithm knows my love of secondhand puppy-shopping videos), there was a video about space exploration. My interests are teasingly diverse…

You see, in 1997 there was a robot on Mars called Pathfinder.

Back in the 1990s, you couldn’t control a robot on Mars remotely from Earth, so they had to send one with general commands and then let the robot decide what to do next and trust the robot to do its own thing. The robot had to manage its own tasks, such as dropping off tools, taking pictures, gathering data, etc.

But this little robot wasn’t doing anything. It was just, well, kind of sitting there. It wasn’t accomplishing anything.

Why? Because its scheduling algorithms were overwhelmed. For those who don’t speak fluent computer, an algorithm is a set of instructions, such as a recipe. Sometimes computers have so many instructions that they get confused and can’t decide what to do first. It’s like a little kid having too many toys to play with and not enough time to play with them all.

In essence, this little computer was procrastinating.

It would start to make progress on a task, and then it would decide another task was actually more important. So, it would start on the next task, not finishing the first one.

This is a cycle that computer scientists call thrashing. Thrashing is the state of being where a computer uses 100% of its power to decide what task to do next, instead of using that power to actually work on a task.

It’s not that it’s not doing anything — it’s using its full strength but not accomplishing anything.

I’ve never identified so deeply with a robot in my life.

I am the reigning queen of starting on a project and then, seeing something else that is equally important (and, let’s face it, equally ignored), starting on that, until the next super-important-but-also-ignored task catches my eye.

And that is why I can drop into bed at 7:30 at night, exhausted, but also recognizing that nothing officially got checked off my list that day. (Just as I was writing that last sentence, I remembered that I needed to check in with a client, but am forcing myself to keep writing because… irony…)

I continue to have to train myself to stay on the project (or problem) in front of me, instead of borrowing stress from yesterday or tomorrow. There is enough to handle today.

I realize sometimes that I’m looking for a distraction. When a problem becomes challenging, it’s easy to want to move on to something that will be less difficult, less painful, less intense, less boring.

That hustle comes from the desire to get everything done because I don’t want to let anyone, especially God, down. But God’s Word reminds us that He’s not about the hustle. In fact, the ancient wisdom contained in Matthew 6:34 sounds like what a lot of therapists and productivity experts would say today: “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

When I start to get overwhelmed, I try to put a couple of practices into motion:

  1. A daily to-do list. Every day, I start a list of things that need to be done. I also underline the things that must be done today, such as car registration and emailing Becky. I then assign other items that are not a “today” item to other days of the week. Everything has to be done, but not everything has to be done right now.
  2. Assign the time. I’ve realized I can’t stop at a list. I actually need to put that list on my calendar so that I have assigned the time to work on my items. Otherwise, I make a list of twenty things when I only have time to do four and get worried that I’m not working on the right things. By writing them down and adding them to my calendar, I can ensure that important tasks get done, but allow my brain to stop cycling on those tasks.
  3. Create a routine. I have a list of morning routines and evening routines that I do every day. Because there is no decision-making (these five things get done every morning and these five things get done every evening), it takes a lot of the stress out of the decisions and I don’t procrastinate. It’s just what I do, and it makes my life go so much more smoothly.

So much of worry comes from either living in the past or living in the future. When we concentrate on the present, we’re able to better recognize all the ways God has equipped us for the moment and experience the abundance He has for us.

Need extra encouragement when it comes to getting your daily list done? Join Kathi and her team over in their Facebook group, the Clutter Free Academy.

 

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

He Is with You When You’re Face-Down on the Carpet

by

It was May of 2016, somewhere around 10:30 p.m. It was another night in the brutal nightmare that had made up the last year-and-a-half, and it was during that time when I began to secretly self-medicate.

We’d spent the previous year seeking medical answers non-stop, during which time I’d also given birth to our third child. Only three months after my baby boy’s birth, my husband underwent corrective brain surgery, losing his job and our health insurance immediately after.

Though I’d graduated college and worked most of my adult life, we’d chosen to make sacrifices so I could remain home while our children were small. We had worked so hard trying to establish a good footing for our family . . .  but in a matter of weeks, everything had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

By this point, Chad had been officially diagnosed with ALS, and I was already so depleted from the grueling journey to the diagnosis that I began to spiral quickly. My life was falling apart. I felt obliterated, alone, and utterly hopeless. I was on the brink of complete despair.

On this particular May night, once everyone was in bed I laid down outside, sipping from the can in my hand. This had become my go-to posture. My place of escape was to look up at the stars and try to calm the fear tyrant inside me.

Chad was dying. I felt like I was too.

The presence of God felt completely withdrawn. Gone — just like the life we once had.

What had gone so wrong? What grave sin had I committed to cause this level of destruction?

As tears began seeping out the sides of my eyes, I tried to talk to God but couldn’t speak. All I could do was keep taking one deep, labored breath after the next. A stream of shandy-laced saliva converged with a stream of trauma-induced tears, forming a river of fluids that ran out the sides of my mouth, down my neck and shoulders, soaking the back of my shirt. Lord, how did I get here?

As I rolled my body upward in a grand attempt to stand, I realized the six-pack I’d purchased was now gone, right along with my balance. My fingers collided with the red brick that literally keeps my home together. I somehow managed to fumble my way through the French doors leading to the interior of my basement and ended up face-down on the carpet. Face-down, as the reality of what I was facing surged through my body.

I felt angry that I couldn’t take care of my growing children and dying husband while staying on top of the bills and the housework. I felt guilty that I couldn’t do it all. I felt shame thinking that I’d probably somehow caused it all — and to boot, now I was drunk! God, You’re definitely punishing me, I thought. Maybe if I’d had more faith, I reasoned. Maybe if I had attended more revivals, hosted more children’s ministry activities, or worn looser fitting clothing? Maybe then I would have earned a good, happy, and picturesque life.

I had tried to live up to the standards of being a “good and faithful” Christian, but my mistakes were many — too many, I feared.

At that moment all I could mutter was, “God, please send help. I can’t do this by myself for one more day.”

The next day it was around lunchtime when an unexpected text came through: “Hey Lori, I wanted to let you know I’ve had it on my heart to help you with the kids while you care for Chad.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. HELP was here. Help that would come almost daily for the next six months.

I was so broken in that season and continued breaking. But later I could see that it was in that moment of failing and falling face-down on the carpet that God met me. It was in that moment of breakdown that He lovingly came near and consoled me.

As the days and weeks progressed, I began to see that not only was God providing help to me through this woman, but He was also comforting my children.

At the time, most people didn’t know that Chad’s mother was diagnosed with ALS only a few months after he was. This meant the grandmother our children deeply loved was now being simultaneously claimed by the same disease that was claiming their father.

But God knew ALL of this, and because He is El Shaddai (God ALL-Powerful), He’d already begun working behind the scenes by sending this woman and her husband to become surrogate grandparents during the very same time my children’s biological grandparents were being pulled away.

Friend, God is with us in the hard and He’s with us in the easy. He is with us in the ugly and He’s with us in the beautiful. He is with us in our good decisions and He’s with us in the bad ones. He is with us on the mountain and He’s with us in the valley. If you find yourself fallen, face-down on the carpet, He is right there with you too.  

In the moments when your t-shirt is stained with shandy-laced saliva and trauma-induced tears . . . and in the moments when you have carpet-burned cheeks and a prayer of desperation on your lips — yes, God is with you even then.

 

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

Here’s the Promise: Goodness Will Chase You Down

by

Keep a straight face, I thought to myself.

Everything was already in place. The date was marked on a dozen calendars. The cards were signed, the gifts wrapped, the decorations purchased — everything was ready for her celebration.

Then, just a handful of days before the surprise, I listened as she spoke words of frustration and loneliness. I could see the weariness in her eyes, hear it in her strained voice, and I blinked back tears at her pain even as I bit my tongue.

The words threatened to burst bright like fireworks against the night, clamoring around inside, longing to be spoken and offered as a gift of hope.

“Oh friend, if you only knew,” I wanted to say. “Something so very good is just around the corner. It won’t be long until you see that the very thing you’re worried about has already been taken care of. The fear that’s rising will soon be stilled. You are dearly loved, valued, and seen. Hang on just a few more days, friend. Goodness is already on the way.”

Days later, the full room buzzed with excitement, smiles spread wide across faces, and then, for just a moment, everything stilled. All was quiet until suddenly one unanimous word broke the silence: “Surprise!!!”

There were hugs and squeals, party hats and pictures, and once again I found myself blinking back tears at the look in her eyes. This time, though, they threatened to spill with joy.

As the days have gone by, I’ve found myself returning to one thought that played on a loop between the conversation and the celebration:

This must be the tiniest glimpse of how Jesus feels all the time.

He’s the Beginning and the End, the One who knows what’s on every single page of the story, and I can’t help but wonder if He occasionally claps His nail-scarred hands in joyful anticipation, smiling as He says, “Oh daughter, if you only knew.”

There are things I’ve longed for, and prayed for, for over a decade now. I can only imagine what it would be like to voice my frustration or heartache and hear, “Just hold on three more days.” Truthfully, I’d love a countdown clock, a heavenly calendar declaring when the seemingly impossible will come to be and the waiting will turn to celebrating.

For now, I’m learning to rest in knowing that He knows what I don’t. I’m learning to trust that goodness is always here and also always on the way. I’m learning to believe that it won’t be long before I see that I’ve been seen all along, and the very things I’m burdened by today were taken care of long ago. For now, I’m remembering a tiny glimpse and an old promise.

Psalm 23:6 says that goodness and mercy will follow us every single day. The Hebrew word used for follow, radaph, means to pursue or to chase. Far from a casual stroll, this is an all-out sprint, a guarantee that every day, on every single page of the story, goodness is pounding the pavement, coming for us over and over again. We may not see it yet. It might look like fear is following behind, it might feel like worry is weighing down, or seem like pain or sadness will get the last word . . . but the countdown is on. The party hats have been purchased. The celebration is certain.

We may not know the timeline, but we do know that the One who holds time is faithful to keep His Word.

As Joshua 23:14 says, “Know this with all your heart, with everything in you, that not one detail has failed of all the good things God, your God, promised you. It has all happened. Nothing’s left undone — not so much as a word.”

Jesus hears every cry and sees every tear. He doesn’t miss a thing, listening to our frustrations and worries with patience and kindness. He welcomes every word, day after day and year after year. He knows exactly how long it’s been, how weary we are, and He draws nearer still. But perhaps if we look closely, we’ll see a small smile tugging at His lips or a twinkle in His eye as He wipes the tears from our own. Maybe, when all is quiet, we’ll hear a gentle but joyful whispered promise:

Daughter, something so very good is just around the corner. It won’t be long until you see that the very thing you’re worried about has already been taken care of. The fear that’s rising will soon be stilled. You are dearly loved, valued, and seen. Hang on just a little bit longer. Goodness is already on the way.

—

Today we’re thrilled to welcome new voices to the (in)courage podcast! We thank Rachel Marie Kang for sharing her gifts with us these past few months, and we welcome Anna E. Rendell as the new narrator. Take a listen at the player below, or wherever you stream pods.

6 Words That Change Everything

by

The angel of the Lord came, and he sat under the oak that was in Ophrah, which belonged to Joash, the Abiezrite. His son Gideon was threshing wheat in the winepress in order to hide it from the Midianites. Then the angel of the Lord appeared to him and said, “The Lord is with you, valiant warrior.”

Gideon said to him, “Please, my lord, if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened? And where are all his wonders that our ancestors told us about? They said, ‘Hasn’t the Lord brought us out of Egypt?’ But now the Lord has abandoned us and handed us over to Midian.”

The Lord turned to him and said, “Go in the strength you have and deliver Israel from the grasp of Midian. I am sending you!”

He said to him, “Please, Lord, how can I deliver Israel? Look, my family is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the youngest in my father’s family.”

“But I will be with you,” the Lord said to him. “You will strike Midian down as if it were one man.”
Judges 6:11-16

Don’t you just love how God’s answer to Gideon’s doubts and insecurity is His presence?

God doesn’t refute Gideon’s claims that he is too weak, too young, too poor, essentially, too much of a nobody to be called by God and do brave things for Him. God knows exactly who Gideon is and exactly what his background, struggles, and qualifications (or lack thereof) are. But still, God calls him a “valiant warrior.” Why? Because of what comes before that: “The Lord is with you.”

God’s presence is mightier than any disadvantage or setback. 

Whenever we face something that’s too much for us, God answers, “But I will be with you.”

And those six words change everything.