You Can Find Strength for Any Struggle (Yes, Really)  

You Can Find Strength for Any Struggle (Yes, Really)  

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You can’t do this life on your own . . . and you’re tired of trying. You need evidence that God is still present and good when everything around you tries to convince you otherwise. You need help and encouragement to keep going when the next step is simply too much. We get it.  

What if you don’t have to muster up more grit, determination, and wisdom on your own but could tap into the source of true, unfailing strength? Here’s the good news: You can.  

You are stronger than you think because God is closer than you know.

Our new book, 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle, will take you on a journey of learning to see God clearer and to know Him deeper in the middle of your struggles. As you experience pain, move through daily challenges, or get bogged down by anxieties big or small, you’ll learn to find Him right in the middle of it, ready to strengthen you and give you rest.  

These 100 devotions from the writers of (in)courage provide lifeline Scriptures and real-life stories to help you grow stronger with Jesus one step at a time. Every day you’ll be prompted to write down where you are finding God’s strength. No answer is too small. You might find God’s strength in a song, a sunset, or a timely text message from a friend. By intentionally looking for God’s strength every day, at the end of your journey, you’ll be able to look back and see 100 ways God’s strength met you and sustained you even if your circumstances didn’t change.  

You’ll be reminded that you were never alone and that God is stronger than you imagined — and so are you.  

Keep reading for a peek at the kind of vulnerable and heartfelt devotions you’ll find in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle. 

Hope Will Not Put You to Shame 

By Aliza Latta   

My head had pulsed for thirteen days straight. Nothing seemed to help this migraine. I thought my brain would explode. I cried out to God.

“I remember how You’ve healed people,” I prayed, tears coursing down my cheeks. “You can heal my migraine. Nothing is too hard for You.”  

I fell asleep, expecting my migraine to be gone when I awoke. But it wasn’t. When my eyes opened the next day, I waited for a few moments to see if the pain was gone. The migraine gripped me even harder.  

I blinked back tears, deeply discouraged. I softly uttered, “Why didn’t You heal me, God? I believed You could—I truly believed! Why haven’t I been healed?”  

I was riddled with anxiety: What if I have migraines forever? What if I’m never healed?  

I took a deep breath and felt a few words softly make their way across my heart. In my discouragement, I almost didn’t notice them. Have hope.  

Even though my circumstances had not changed, I could still hope . . . even if the hope scared me.  

Though I did not understand why He didn’t heal me in the timing I wanted, I could hold firm to the promise that my hope was in Jesus and my hope would not put me to shame. So, I started hoping. As I chose hope over discouragement — even though the pain was still there — my mindset changed.  

And then, three days later, on day sixteen, after a couple of chiropractic appointments, a lot of prayer, some ice packs, and essential oils, the migraine finally left me.  

But I was still left with one thing: hope.  

Maybe you, too, need to hope for something. Sometimes it feels scary to hope — because what if God doesn’t come through for us? What if this time He forgets? You can rest in the assurance that God never has and never will forget you. You can hope in Him, and He will never put you to shame.  

AND HOPE DOES NOT PUT US TO SHAME, BECAUSE GOD’S LOVE HAS BEEN POURED OUT INTO OUR HEARTS THROUGH THE HOLY SPIRIT, WHO HAS BEEN GIVEN TO US.
Romans 5:5 NIV

Get a sneak peek by signing up for a five-day preview! And order your copy of 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle today! It launches in February, so preorder and you’ll be the first to have it in your hands. We cannot wait for you to read this book.

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or on your favorite podcast app!

 

A Recipe for Remembrance

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Nana and Mama gathered the ingredients for making our special Italian pastry called pita piata. Daddy wiped off the table so we could roll out the dough. My little brother Paul squealed with glee, escaping Papa’s strong, hairy arms as he chased him around the room. While they played, my older cousin Carl and I brought bowls of chopped walnuts and raisins to the table. I sneaked a golden raisin. Mmmm, my favorite.

Nana and Mama measured the ingredients into our giant bowl. Daddy and Papa took turns mixing the dough. They really had to use their muscles to make it smooth. I peered over the edge, watching the flour and sugar become wet and sticky from the water we added.

People say many hands make light work, but I believe even heavy work is better when we can do it in community.

Mama always proportioned the dough to make sure it was even. She cut the dough in half, then the halves in half until we had sixteen perfect disks of dough. Daddy grabbed Nana’s heavy, wooden pin and rolled out the dough. He loved the challenge of making it paper thin.

“Your daddy is the best roller around,” Papa said, elbowing me, “even if he’s not Italian.”

That was a big compliment.

“You ready, my little capatosta?” Papa asked, pinching my arm. Papa always called me “capatosta” or “hard head” in Italian. He called me that because I’m stubborn, but I know he’s just as stubborn as I am.

I shook cinnamon on top of the dough while Papa spread the sugar around. We were Christmas angels throwing stardust over the night sky on Christmas Eve. Papa’s eyes twinkled.

Nana poured the oil on top and mixed it in perfectly with her long, thin fingers. Then it was time for my favorite part — the raisins and nuts.

Paul dashed into the room. “Can I help? Can I help?”

Papa helped Paul mix the oil with the cinnamon sugar on the dough. Paul giggled and licked his fingers. Mama gave him that look and sent him to the bathroom to wash his hands. I sprinkled the raisins and nuts over the dough, pretending they were music notes dancing the Tarantella through the air.

Then we started rolling the dough from opposite ends. Papa began to roll his end. I followed. We met in the middle, creating a double pastry roll.

“And now we join the circle,” I said.

“Yes,” Papa replied with a wide grin. 

—

This is a circle we have continued to join year after year, generation after generation in our family. A circle that represents a kind of unending love, enduring faith, and precious memories. 

Today my brother Paul and I lead our families along with my parents in the making of the pita piata. We gather with our spouses and our six kids who are in their teen years or will be soon. Sometimes my sister’s family from Washington joins us with her adult kids. We gather at the table each Christmas to bake and remember my Papa John and Nana Sara, my Uncle Russ, and my first husband Ericlee who are all in Heaven now. 

Our Pita Piata Making Day has been a holiday tradition in our family for generations. Maybe a tradition more important than decorating the tree or filling stockings. Through the years, I’ve come to believe food is the best way to remember our loved ones who have soared to heaven. Why?

Food sparks memory. The smells, textures, and tastes can take us back to scenes from our childhood or special trips or a time when our loved ones were seated at our tables. God created us with thousands of taste buds that help us differentiate between the five main flavors: salty, bitter, sweet, sour, and umami (or savory). 

The holidays can often carry a swirl of flavors and emotions. The days can be full of grief and joy, happiness and heartache — often all at the same time, especially when we are missing our people. And yet, Christmas is a time to remember Immanuel, God with us, God coming near in the midst of our longing.

One of the healing practices we have in our family is remembering our people through food. My kids remember their dad whenever my daughter bakes his favorite snickerdoodle cookies. I remember my Grandma Sara when we roll ravioli on Christmas Day for our feast. Maybe you serve up your aunt’s cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning or that bacon-wrapped turkey in honor of your brother on Christmas Eve. Let me encourage you to take time not just to savor the food, but also to tell the stories of the people who live on through the memories of these special dishes. May these stories multiply faith through the generations.

Food provides nourishment. God created food for both delight and to build strength in our physical bodies. As humans, we are dependent on food. It’s a necessity like breathing. We remember the Israelites who were emancipated from slavery, but then wandered in the desert for forty years. God provided manna for them — a sweet bread from heaven — and quail for protein. This food was a reminder of their dependence on the Father.

Food fosters remembrance. Jesus modeled this for us over and over again in His ministry. He invited His disciples to the table and used food to feed and teach them. He multiplied a boy’s lunch to feed five thousand and later declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (John 6:35 NIV).

Jesus broke bread and poured wine on the night of His betrayal to help prepare His closest friends for his death. After His resurrection, He hosted a fish fry on the shore to replenish His disciples’ bodies and feed their souls for the future.

—

It’s that time of year again. The aroma of the pita piata pastry wafts through the house. We pull baking trays from the oven and slice up another round of pita piata. We sink our teeth into that first bite of cinnamon-sugar-heavenly goodness, and we remember.

Friend, is there a food or dish that reminds you of your loved ones? Share in the comments about one of your family food traditions and how it honors their legacy.

Dorina helps women discover God’s glory in unexpected places. Subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here for recipes, reflections, and details about her new book, Breathing Through Grief.

 

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or on your favorite podcast app!

Your Solid Safety Net When Old Bridges Have Broken

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I was sitting on the attic floor and sorting through hand-me-downs when the phone rang . . . and a bridge began to crumble. Through tears, and through a clunky, cordless phone, my friend dropped the bomb. She and her family would be leaving our church — the church where our kids had misbehaved together and where she and I had grown from ministry colleagues to friends of the heart.

It wasn’t long after this that our kids became self-sufficient drivers. They didn’t need us to facilitate their social life, and the breech widened.

We attended the same weddings and funerals. We bumped into each other at the drug store. Then, one day, I read this text: “We’re putting the house on the market and moving south to be closer to both sons. I miss our chats…”

Not sure how to respond, I said what was in my heart: “If someone had told me ten years ago that we would go for months without talking to each other, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

“I know,” she replied, with a sad-faced emoji. 

Geography was about to finish off what life changes had begun. But I’m not sitting on the attic floor today, and the little bodies who wore the hand-me-downs have grown to man-size and they’re buying their own clothes now. The span of fifteen years has reworked the landscape of my life, and this friendship, this bridge isn’t the only thing that’s broken.

Death has made irreplaceable people inaccessible. Church friends, playground friends, and bleacher friends (like me) have moved on to other circles. My own children have flown the nest. Now I have four sons with four different addresses, and these four bridges are still strong — but they are longer than they used to be. 

Change is unavoidable, but this one thing I am learning about connections with my fellow humans: Whatever bridge may have crumbled, God is still present. My life with God is not mediated by friends or institutions. All that I enjoy on this “swiftly tilting planet” comes from God — and He is not far off.

When Paul was preaching in Athens, he assured the doubting locals that God “is actually not far from each one of us.” The one in whom we “live and move and have our being” is the bridge that never crumbles. He is the safety net who holds me fast when I’ve been left in mid-air and my feet need a solid place to stand.

With all that truth stored up in my heart, I’m finding two strategies for navigating the inevitable separations that come with this world of temporary connections and crumbling bridges.

First, decide in advance that it’s not awkward. Don’t give in to the temptation to duck behind the paper towel display at Costco when you see the former church member or long-ago bleacher buddy. Give and receive hugs, be curious about their kids or their pets, share a quick update on your own family, inquire about mutual friends, and then move on with a smile. Even if they have wronged you somehow, even if the debris of your crumbling connection left bruises on your heart, ask God for grace to forgive them, and then treat them as if they have been forgiven. Wendell Berry calls this brand of quick and ready grace “prepared forgiveness,” and it mirrors the mercy we’ve received from God. Forgiveness may not restore the ruptured relationship, but it will release you from bitterness — and awkwardness.

Second, hold everything and everyone with open hands. When my fists are clenched around some relationship, some imagined future good, it’s hard to receive the next good thing that God is bringing to pass. If occurs to me that, right now, my old friend and I are reconnected in a way I would not have expected. My prayers for her are building an invisible bridge that has softened my heart and is healing my feeling of loss. I don’t expect to see her again, at least not right away. But when she comes to mind, I pray for her moving process, for a peaceful transition to her new home, and for strong ties to her kids and her new community.

The melancholy truth is that our lives are a series of connections, disconnections, and reconnections. Holding the good alongside the broken requires a sinewy faith, a commitment to the truth of God’s sovereignty, and an assurance that He is able to weave loss into a tapestry for good.

He himself will be your solid safety net, even when old bridges have broken. 

The Promise of Hope

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4 This is what the Lord of Armies, the God of Israel, says to all the exiles I deported from Jerusalem to Babylon: 5 “Build houses and live in them. Plant gardens and eat their produce. 6 Find wives for yourselves, and have sons and daughters. Find wives for your sons and give your daughters to men in marriage so that they may bear sons and daughters. Multiply there; do not decrease. 7 Pursue the well-being[a] of the city I have deported you to. Pray to the Lord on its behalf, for when it thrives, you will thrive.”

8 For this is what the Lord of Armies, the God of Israel, says: “Don’t let your prophets who are among you and your diviners deceive you, and don’t listen to the dreams you elicit from them, 9 for they are prophesying falsely to you in my name. I have not sent them.” This is the Lord’s declaration.

10 For this is what the Lord says: “When seventy years for Babylon are complete, I will attend to you and will confirm my promise concerning you to restore you to this place. 11 For I know the plans I have for you”—this is the Lord’s declaration—“plans for your well-being, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. 12 You will call to me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you”—this is the Lord’s declaration—“and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and places where I banished you”—this is the Lord’s declaration. “I will restore you to the place from which I deported you.”
Jeremiah 29:4-14 CSB

So often Jeremiah 29:11 is plucked out of the pages of Scripture and we happily declare that God plans to give us hope and a future. While this is true, have you ever been guilty of assuming that God’s hope and plan were synonymous with your immediate blessing and comfort? Hope feels good when it’s wrapped in the package of our own plans and expectations.

But God knows the plans HE has for us. And often those plans are nothing like we expect. 

When we read Jeremiah 29 as a whole, we see the important context: God’s people have been relocated from their home in Jerusalem to the foreign city of Babylon. This is not where they want to be. Losing their homeland, their freedoms, their culture, and everything known probably felt like the opposite of hope. They likely felt discouraged, overwhelmed, lost, and hopeless. Have you ever felt like that?

This is the backdrop for God reassuring His people that He still has a plan, that He is still in control.

Isn’t it interesting that God’s plan to send a Savior to the world also unfolded in a way that no one expected? The promised Messiah was expected to come as a mighty military leader ready to overflow the Roman government — not as a baby swaddled in a manger, or as a carpenter turned radical preacher.

But here’s what God has been trying to teach His people throughout all generations: His ways are higher. His ways are full of true hope!

Our circumstances may not feel good or make sense in the moment, but we can trust God. He is the promise of hope we can hang on to.

Today marks the second Sunday in the season of Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas Day. Join us here at (in)courage each Sunday during these weeks as we learn about the promises of God and count down to Christmas together.

Make the season bright by reflecting on these promises from God. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the season, make time to quiet your heart and hear from His.

The Promise of Wise Counsel

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2 The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
a light has dawned
on those living in the land of darkness.
3 You have enlarged the nation
and increased its joy.
The people have rejoiced before you
as they rejoice at harvest time
and as they rejoice when dividing spoils.
4 For you have shattered their oppressive yoke
and the rod on their shoulders,
the staff of their oppressor,
just as you did on the day of Midian.
5 For every trampling boot of battle
and the bloodied garments of war
will be burned as fuel for the fire.
6 For a child will be born for us,
a son will be given to us,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
He will be named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
7 The dominion will be vast,
and its prosperity will never end.
He will reign on the throne of David
and over his kingdom,
to establish and sustain it
with justice and righteousness from now on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord of Armies will accomplish this.
Isaiah 9:2-7 CSB

Waiting to become a mom was a dark time in my life, full of medical procedures and medicines that made me emotional. Any hope was quickly deflated and my marriage was strained.

The light came when I let go of my quest to become pregnant. God met me there, prompting my surrender of my own plan and a willingness to follow Him into the unknown.

The short story is my husband and I became parents through adoption. God built my family of five in ways I didn’t expect. In the process, He also built my faith. He always brings light and joy into the darkness.

God being a Father who sacrificed His Son for us took on new meaning when I eventually became a mom. His Son Jesus was born and killed and resurrected for us. In Isaiah 9, we are reminded of what His Son is called. We certainly need a Prince of Peace to rescue us from the darkness we’ve experienced.

The word for “peace” here is shalom, which can be defined as completeness, soundness, welfare, and peace. Jesus comes to relieve the conflicts of this world, but He brings a peace that encompasses more than raising a white flag. He reconciles us to God and others and makes us whole.

Adoption was God’s plan for my family. We didn’t settle for His ways because we didn’t get ours. Instead, He led us to where He wanted us all along. He heard the desires of my heart when I cried out to become a mom and authored the story He had planned all along.

In the process of following God into motherhood, I became a different person. Yes, I became a mom, but I also saw light and joy in new ways because that’s the kind of rescue the Prince of Peace brings.

God sent His Prince of Peace Son for your darkness too. He is not a God of disorder, but a God of peace (1 Corinthians 14:33 CSB). He wants you to find joy in your everyday living — with your work, with your relationships, with your desires, and with your actions. He wants to rescue you and me from the need to control the details, from the do-it-all-ourselves attitude we insist on, and from the darkness in this broken world.

Father God, thank You for being light in the darkness and sending Your Son so we draw near to You even in our brokenness and frustration. Let us raise our white flags and surrender our wills to Your ways. Bring the Prince of Peace into our everyday lives so we can know You more and make You known to those around us. You’re the kind of rescue we need. In Jesus’s name, Amen.

This devotion was written by Kristin Hill Taylor for the (in)courage Devotional Bible.

Join us here at (in)courage each weekend leading up to Christmas as we share excerpts from the (in)courage Devotional Bible, learn more about the promises of God, and count down to Christmas together. We invite you to take a moment to observe, reflect, and respond:

OBSERVE
Who is God? What are you learning about God’s character from His promises?

REFLECT
Where is God? How is He moving during this busy season?

RESPOND
Pray, confess, and give thanks. How will today’s promise from God make your Christmas richer?

 

The Story of God

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Eighteen years ago, I found myself smack in the middle of raising a house full of little ones. I was in seminary at the time, and to be honest, I was just trying to survive. Life felt chaotic, but I knew deep in my soul that there was nothing more valuable than knowing God myself and helping my kids to know who He really is.

So I began searching for resources that could help me as a tired, but ever-hopeful, mom. My kids were SO curious, and as we read our story Bibles, they were full of questions about what kind of slingshot David used, how long Moses floated in a basket, and what kinds of fruits were in the Garden of Eden. I loved their never-ending questions, but in the midst of them, I found myself struggling to get them to connect to the heart of God — His character and His power in their lives. 

This is when I began dreaming about The Story of God. 

Moms, can you relate to any of what I was feeling at that time? To the feeling of struggling to keep your head above water while also being so full of love for your kids, it hurts? To the endless questions? To the burden deep in our souls for our kids to know how much God loves them and to love him in return? As a mom of four, let me say firsthand — I know it can feel overwhelming.

So when I started working on the The Story of God books, I had you in mind. I wanted to create resources that would come alongside parents like you to help you pull back to the BIG story of God. When kids are little, we’re often reading to them individual stories of the Bible, and honestly, sometimes God gets hidden behind them. In The Story of God, kids won’t just find stories — they’ll find an adventure that is beckoning them to be a part of it. I believe that when we know the big story of God, we know how to find our place in it. We know how to not get completely discouraged when everything gets chaotic, and we know how to hope for something bigger than our short lives here.

One of our main values is that we believe that God wants to use parents. We believe that God is working directly in your child’s life and will use your intentional shepherding of your children, no matter how imperfect. Scripture is full of beautiful examples of God calling and equipping flawed people, from Moses to David to the twelve disciples. In 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, Paul writes, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (ESV).

You may feel today that your parenting isn’t “good enough,” that you don’t have the knowledge to disciple your kids in a meaningful way, or that you’re just too tired to make an impact. But we want to come alongside you to help you feel equipped. God chose YOU to be your kids’ mom, and even on days when you feel like you haven’t gotten one thing right, you can rest in the truth that He placed you in your home for a purpose. 

In 1 Corinthians 3:6-7, Paul says, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth” (ESV).

As you go throughout your days with your kids, remember: God calls us to plant and water the seeds of our kids’ faith in intentional discipleship, but it is Him and Him alone who grows. So take the pressure off yourself, moms. God is doing a good work in your kids’ lives, and He will use even your smallest seeds!

Give your kids a big view of God from creation to heaven with The Story of God Box Set by Jennie Allen. The Story of God is a five-book set enclosed in a beautiful keepsake box, and equips parents with simple, engaging tools that fuel their kids’ curiosity. These books help children understand God’s character and their relationship with the Creator. Books are written in first person — God’s voice to the child in an easy-to-understand, captivating way — and deal with tough topics and big concepts in a way that children can understand. Each book includes a simple activity guide to inspire great memories and conversations with your kids, based on each story you will read to them.

For a limited time, you can get your box set of The Story of God for a GREAT price at DaySpring.com. . . and leave a comment below to enter to WIN a set*!  

 

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

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes at 11:59 pm central on 12/11/23.

The Ministry of Breaking Bread

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One of our daughters got married on a lovely day in October. Preparing for it long-distance was a challenge. She’s lived in Florida since 2022 and the wedding took place here in Georgia. We missed out on the fun of planning together face-to-face, and the thought of forgetting or messing up a crucial detail terrified me.

Our original guest list of nearly 200 people was the max our venue could accommodate. Although we tried to keep up with the RSVPs, sometimes people are hard to nail down and things happen. When preparing to feed so many people, it’s easy to question quantities. We trusted the caterer’s formula for the meal itself. My husband and I each calculated how many gallons of water, sweet tea, and lemonade we’d need, but at the last minute, my daughter wanted us to double it to be safe. Same with the appetizers we made for guests to enjoy while the wedding party took photos.

Sure enough, we had plenty of leftovers. At the end of the evening, we loaded the back of my car with the extra food and drinks and sent more home with our adult children. I knew what we’d be eating for supper each night and what my husband would take to work for lunch each day. And after months of excitement and anticipation building towards this day, I welcomed a week off of kitchen duty.

Have you noticed how items appear larger when you bring them into your home? That a couch that seemed a reasonable size in the showroom barely fits in your living room? That’s how it felt when we unloaded the leftovers and stacked metal pans filled our garage refrigerator. No way could we eat this much in a week. I began looking for opportunities to feed others with our bounty.

A friend and I had planned to get together the week after the wedding, so I invited her to eat at our house instead of going out. Two days later I hosted an impromptu lunch for some ladies in our neighborhood. What a spread! We filled our plates with smoked chicken, pulled pork, cowboy baked beans, salad, and tidbits from fruit and veggie trays. The food assuaged our hunger, but the fellowship satisfied a deeper need.

Have you noticed how many stories in Scripture involve Jesus and food? He began His earthly ministry by transforming water into wine at a wedding feast in Cana (John 2:1-11) and concluded His time on earth with the Last Supper (Luke 22:14-20). He fed a multitude with five loaves and four fishes (John 6:1-14), ate with sinners and tax collectors (Mark 2:15), and was anointed with oil and a woman’s tears during a meal (Luke 7:36-50). He used parables about wedding feasts to teach humility and radical hospitality (Luke 14:7-24).

Jesus continued to serve others through food after His resurrection. He fed the disciples after a weary (but successful) night of fishing by welcoming them to “come and dine” (John 21:8-14). When He encountered two disciples on the road to Emmaus, they didn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus until the moment He broke bread with them (Luke 24:30-35).

The connection goes even deeper: Jesus referred to Himself as the bread of life, the satisfaction for the hunger and thirst within our souls.

“And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.”
John 6:35 (KJV)

With Christmastime upon us, I’ve been thinking about the enchanting decorations and delightfully predictable holiday movies. Warm traditions and festive gatherings. It’s a time when spirits rise, but depression rates soar. For many, Christmas brings bittersweet memories of loved ones who’ve passed. Some struggle to balance busy holiday calendars while others battle loneliness that’s more acute this time of year.

Sisters, we can make a difference in someone’s life with something we do every day: sitting down for a meal. Breaking bread together involves more than eating; it’s about serving people and spending time with them. It’s about slowing down, sharing stories, and savoring food and fellowship. You don’t need to throw a fancy dinner party (although you certainly can if you’re able and enjoy it). But all you really need to do is just open your circle a little wider. Pull up an extra chair to the table.

Let’s open our hearts and our homes this season and view mealtimes the way Jesus did: as an opportunity to serve others and come together in fellowship through the ministry of breaking bread.

 

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

Decorating Your Emotional Christmas Tree

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In my historical Victorian neighborhood, families might put up two, three, or even four Christmas trees during the holiday season. The first tree is usually the fanciest. This one tends to face the street. This is the Instagram-ready tree that’s draped with the loveliest or most impressive ornaments and a fancy foliage vibe that screams, “Look, we’ve got our act together this Christmas!”

Tree number two tends to be the family tree. This one has a homemade look that only the people living within the walls love. This is where the kids’ perfectly imperfect ornaments rest for a few weeks each year. In my opinion, this tree isn’t complete unless there’s a saltdough candy cane created by a second-grader or a Scotch-taped construction paper wreath with a snaggle-tooth photo of an elementary school kid. This is the tree that we smile at each night after the kids go to sleep or we linger by if our kids are grown up and out of our home.

Looking at our Christmas trees evokes all kinds of emotions. But do you realize that whether you put up four or none or one Christmas tree in your home, we all tend to pop up emotional Christmas trees in our hearts?  

Our emotional Christmas trees are decorated with a mix of internal ornaments like memories, expectations, and anticipation. When we’re feeling upbeat and joyful, other bright and shiny bulbs like joy, gratitude, peace, and hope hang from the branches and light up our hearts. Since life isn’t perfect, the less-than-popular bulbs like past holiday hurts, resentment, unrealistic expectations, and holiday fears take up their space on the tree, too. Even if we don’t acknowledge our bah-humbug baubles, they are there.  

Maybe, your emotional Christmas tree is filled with memories of past, happier Christmases, and this year, you feel like you’ve been robbed because life isn’t the same and you miss that old life. Perhaps, your heart tree is anxious because nothing has gone as planned, or it’s overwhelmed because you have way too many plans.   

Today is an invitation for you to tend to your inner emotional Christmas tree and believe that God can light up your heart with hope. Will you give God that chance so that you can experience all His best blessings this holiday season? It’s so easy to let the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season camouflage or even cover up what’s happening inside of us. Can we agree that smiling on the outside, but suffering on the inside is no way to spend the holiday season?

Eight Christmas seasons ago, I didn’t have the strength to decorate any of the Christmas trees in my home because of a marriage separation, and my oldest child left for a year-long military assignment two weeks after Thanksgiving. My emotional Christmas tree was overloaded with sadness, grief, fear, and pain, and I almost gave up on celebrating Christmas. The a-ha moment came as John 1 reminded me that Jesus’s hope was bright enough to light up the dark pain in my heart, even if my circumstances didn’t change:

“The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.”
John 1:4-5 NLT

In my dark season, Jesus’s light provided the path that I needed to walk through that time in my life. His gift of peace (John 14:27) calmed my chaotic heart so that I could see the evidence of God’s constant care for me.

As a practical way of living this out, I decided to create a visual reminder. I bought a pack of large wooden cutout ornaments and wrote the words on the front that I desired to reflect in my heart with a matching verse on the back. Hanging these on a Christmas tree reminded me of the attitude and gratitude that I wanted to hang out in my heart.

Here are a few examples:

JOY – Always be joyful. (1 Thessalonians 5:16 NLT)

HOPE – I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. (Romans 15:13 NLT)

PEACE – Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. (1 Peter 5:7 NLT)

GRATITUDE – Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever. (1 Chronicles 16:34 NLT)

What if you took time this Christmas season to invite God to decorate your inner emotional Christmas tree with the good gifts that He gives? Whether you decorate ornaments with verses or put these verses in your phone as a reminder, the more you focus on the light that Jesus’ life brings, the more your heart will shine that light out in a world that needs Jesus’s hope now more than ever.

 

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

How to Hear Him Better This Advent

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Every time it snows, I wait for my opportunity. When the house is quiet and dark, I tiptoe into the living room and curl up mesmerized in the big front window to watch the flakes fall silently — blanketing the ground, trees, and houses — muting the world. Is that a rabbit peering from the edge of the trees?

These are sacred moments. The blue light of my phone and the voices competing for my attention are traded for the yellow light of the moon and hushed white clusters streaming to the earth. I sigh in relief.

I feel small, and I remember One who made Himself small. Jesus, who, “became flesh and made His dwelling among us” (John 1:14 NIV). I can hear Him better sitting in this stillness. I wait in anticipation.

In the quiet, I realize, and maybe you do too, that I have become full. And not in a good way. Full of expectations for this season, full of plans and pulls. Full of Facebook and Instagram — I just can’t seem to put them down. Full of myself and what I want. I’m so filled up that I can’t put anything else in.

When I feel like this, I know what I need to do, but sometimes I need someone else to confirm it. So if you need confirmation, too, you have it from me. I have to empty myself of me and make room for Jesus. I must turn off the distractions, even some good ones, so I can focus on the One who is ultimately the most important.

I pour it all out on paper — confess what’s been swirling around in my head, plaguing me. Maybe it’s not paper for you — maybe you talk out loud or play the guitar or paint — but our prayers of confession come out. I ask for forgiveness and He gives it.

And I ask Him to come: Emmanuel, God with Us, come fill this season and my heart. I’m sweeping out the clutter — setting my phone notifications to “Off” and logging out of all those accounts that distract me from what is important.

I want to hear Him so I can be like Him.
I want to be like Him this Advent.
Less of me and more of Him.
Less looking at my phone and more looking at my family’s eyes.
Less “what I want” and more “how can I serve?”

It all begins in the stillness.

“He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.”
Philippians 2:7 NIV

This article is by Lauren DeVries from the archives and featured in the Simply Jesus Christmas Magazine.

DaySpring has a special keepsake holiday magazine called Simply Jesus: The Heart of Christmas, and it’s now available!

In this keepsake magazine, you will find a collection of powerful Scriptures, inspiring prayers, and heartfelt articles, as we hope to help you deepen your faith during this sacred season and help your family celebrate Christmas together in new and exciting ways. Pick up your copy of Simply Jesus: The Heart of Christmas wherever magazines are sold and at DaySpring.com. We hope to bring you inspiration in the form of personal stories and inspirational articles, the sharing of Christmas traditions, celebrating with family, observing Advent, and keeping Christ at the center of it all. With each turn of the page, we hope to warm hearts, inspire your faith, and rekindle the Christmas spirit in your heart and home. 

This article is just one of many featured in the Simply Jesus keepsake Christmas magazine, which, by the way, is perfect for gifting to a friend, Bible study sister, Sunday School teacher, or neighbor. And to help you do just that, we’re giving away FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend! Leave a comment telling us to whom you’d gift a copy, and we’ll draw five winners.

Giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 12/8/23 at 11:59 pm central. 

 

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

The 3 Christmas Temptations and the Cure You Need

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Every day in December is jam-packed with stuff — just like my fridge. The constant ding of my phone is like its own version of “Carol of the Bells.” The month has just begun, and I am already exhausted. Yet, there is a yearning inside of me to not miss the true meaning of Christmas.

I find myself struck by many feelings. December feels so nostalgic. The warmth of memories and traditions wrapping me like a favorite worn sweater. Yet a quiet sadness also settles in like a fog — comforting, yet solemn. I sting for all that was and all that has been lost. A loneliness rises within me.

Christmas also ushers in shame. Shame for all I have not accomplished or overcome this year. Shame that, in many ways, I remain the same. Even after all the work, struggle, and uphill battles, I still argue with those I love, can not keep up with everyday demands, and hate myself for all that I can’t seem to overcome. My will to “keep going” takes more power to muster up than ever before.

Then there is my guilt. It is my cold companion. I feel the aching need to hide how I am really doing for fear that if someone knew my secrets, my guilt would grow. In the midst of sorrow, shame, and fear lives a tingling hope. A hope that this year will be different. This year, I want to savor the true meaning of the season.

How do we savor the Savior this Christmas?

Three temptations will knock at our doors this month. They will beckon us, call out to us, and continually try to steal our hope. You will be tempted to fill, cover, and hide.

We will be tempted to fill our loneliness with more food, more drinks, more entertainment, and more stuff. This temptation is so alluring. We so badly don’t want to feel our groaning loneliness that we will fill ourselves until we are nearly sick. Instead of putting more and more in your mouth, in your eyes, through your ears, what if you let your loneliness breathe? In honesty, confess the true condition of your heart. Let your longing to be loved in the deep places of your heart be known. Instead of reaching for more, reflect on the goodness of God.

We will also be tempted to cover ourselves with our own glory. Shame isn’t that we have done something bad, but that we believe we are bad. We have a stain that we can’t get out so we must cover ourselves up. We cover ourselves with fashionable clothes, nicer things, bigger homes, fancier parties, brighter Christmas trees, or anything that will convince people that we are better than we actually are. Instead of covering ourselves this Christmas, let’s bring our shame to Christ. Take your mask off and confess the things you wish weren’t true about yourself. Confess. Let us confess our sins to one another. Instead of seeking our own glory,  let’s shift from dwelling on our own goodness to the goodness of God.

Lastly, we will be tempted to get rid of our guilt. Our guilt tempts us to hide. We want to retreat from telling the truth. We hide behind our good behavior and good deeds. Or we hide in the darkness of our sin or brokenness. Darkness feels safe. We tend to hide ourselves in the deepest corners of our own souls. But what if we receive Christ this Christmas instead?

Jesus came to us. He lowered Himself and came into our world, but He also continues to come into the caves we often hide ourselves away in. Christ came to lift us out of our guilt. He came to pour light into the darkness.

The Christmas cure is to let the love of Christ fill your loneliness, cover your shame, and come into your guilt. You are free. Instead of reaching to resolve your pain on your own, receive the gift God is offering you through His son.

I refuse to miss the meaning of Christmas this year.

So, even today, I reflect on the goodness of Christ who came to save and love me. I receive the invitation to feast at the table of hope God is offering me. I remove the layers and layers I have worn as a way to cover my bad from others. Instead, I put on the robe of royalty that God offers me through Christ. I am called a daughter of the king. I am of royal blood. I receive the light of Christ that came into this dark world. The light comes into all the places I have hidden for fear of judgment. Instead, Christ stood in my place. He took the punishment for me. I can stand freely as one who is forgiven.

There will be temptations this season, but there will also be a cure. Christ is the cure. In Him, I pray we find our hope.

 

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

How Long, O Lord?

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It was ten years, seven months, and twenty-five days ago that we stood outside the airport in Cancun, Mexico. Hugging goodbye, we were no longer a missionary family of two parents and two children. We had evolved, split off into four adults living in three different countries.

With our family reunion over, my husband and I reluctantly released our grip on the oldest . . . who was about to board a plane and return to the United States.

I’ve struggled with this transition to release my children, as any mother would. In my head, I know that my babies are not babies. I know that their choice on where to live and who to live with belongs to them . . . and not me. But it’s still hard to let go. It’s still hard to release them, even though I know God called my husband and me to Belize as missionaries . . . and not my children.

Yesterday, we tightly hugged one another after gathering for the oldest’s wedding. This morning, my husband and I drove to the airport to send our youngest back to Australia. I can’t help but wonder, How long, O Lord? How long will it be until the four of us are reunited?

I may be an empty nester, but I’m still a mama who gets emotional every time our family goes through transitions. It feels like just yesterday that our babies were babies — but the calendar year says otherwise. I have many questions, but I stuff them all into a box labeled, “How Long.” Instead of entertaining these questions, I help my husband navigate the drive back to our hotel. We still have a long journey home, and I have a surgical procedure awaiting me — a procedure that will leave me in need of care.

When my husband and I finally arrive at the hotel, he falls asleep . . . but I open up my “How Long” box, all stuffed with my questions. I try to sort through my questions and put them in order, but I’m quickly overwhelmed because I’m really just a mama who misses her kids.

This transition from parent to patient might be the most challenging one yet. It’s hard to process the fact that though I once gave care to my children, now I’m the one needing care. How do I process the grief of saying goodbye to my children, again and again? How do I prioritize my concerns about my children and grandchildren? Where does my health rank?

Then suddenly, in the middle of my overthinking, my heart shouted, “Silence!”

Immediately, after my heart’s command, my fitness watch buzzed me back to reality with a notification from my Bible app. I opened the notification to see Psalms 31:24 in the Passion Translation: “So cheer up! Take courage, all you who love him. Wait for him to break through for you, all who trust in him!”

I’m grateful for the reminder that my challenges are not challenges for the God of the universe. He knows what I’m going through, and He will address my thoughts, worries, and questions in His own time.

As a mother, a wife, and a woman, I know that God understands the weight of my struggle with each emotional transition. He never planned for me to carry it all on my own. I know this in my head, but my heart is “prone to wander,” as that old hymn says. . .

I pause and breathe through the physical pain in my shoulder — and then I passionately pray for whatever my husband and children might be going through.

I question, pray, and worry, day after month after year. The weeks march on while I stand still. The struggle for healing — emotionally and physically — is real, and I’m over it. I want the pain to end so I can move on. “Six months from now, this pain in my shoulder should be gone,” I announced to my husband. But to myself, I wonder, How long, O Lord, how long?

The cheering up may take a while, and that’s ok. I love Him, so I’ll take courage. And I trust Him, so I’ll wait for Him to break through for me. I’ve learned the hard way that transitions take longer than change. They’re a gradual transformation to work through.

So, I carefully wrap each of my questions in prayer and gently tuck them back in the box, side by side. I scratch out the old label, smile, and write a new one: “In His Time.”

The Promise of Light

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I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life.
John 8:12 CSB

The Pharisees seemed to delight in catching people in sin. Most of the time that we see them in Scripture, they are attempting to trick Jesus — including this instance when they caught a woman committing adultery and then used her in their efforts to trap Jesus. Caught in the act of breaking the law, this woman had no defense and no defender. Thrown into a crowd of men, possibly in a state of undress, she was completely defenseless.

Until the moment her path crossed Jesus’s, that is. At that moment she was given an advocate, someone to offer her protection from the lethal consequences of her actions. Though she was saved from the stoning, Jesus didn’t turn a blind eye to her sin. He forgave her, yes, but then commissioned her into a life that looked different, a life free from sin.

This woman had every reason to be stoned to death like the law commanded. But Jesus had come to fulfill the law, not enforce it, so that those under it could rest in His record instead of their own. He granted the woman caught in adultery, along with the rest of humanity, a second chance. With her second chance, Jesus did not say, “You’re forgiven, go do whatever you want.” He did not condemn her, but He did command her to abandon a life of sin.

The woman caught in adultery learned that a relationship with Jesus is not a “get out of hell free” card. Forgiveness is not permission to live however one wants, with an understanding that Jesus will make it all right in the end. Instead, it’s an invitation to live a life full of love and light and righteousness, designed to point others to God. He didn’t rescue her from a physical death only to return her to a spiritual one. No, Jesus redirected her path toward holiness, toward wholeness.

This encounter between Jesus and the woman caught in adultery was actually just one more attempt by the Pharisees to trick Jesus into sinning. They plotted against Him, looking for any opening to prove He was not who He said He was. Surely this woman’s situation would do it!

But, no. Jesus refused to allow the religious officials to use the woman to condemn Him — or to use Him to condemn her. Rather, He raised the questions of sin and innocence, since the Pharisees were acting on their assumptions of both. Turning down their invitation to judge her and therefore sentencing her to death, He bent over and began writing in the dirt.

Nobody knows what He wrote that day. But whatever it was, it caused the Pharisees to re-think their plan. Jesus declined the offer to serve as the woman’s judge and jury and returned that responsibility to the Pharisees. But He attached a condition to their judgment; He said that whoever had not sinned himself should be the one to punish her. Strangely enough, nobody volunteered and the woman was left alone.

Do you feel exposed? Do you worry that someone is plotting your punishment, waiting for you to mess up? Have you already been judged and found guilty? Friend, you are not alone and this is not the end. Though it may seem like you are without an excuse and without defense— your only options being penance or escaping back to the darkness—that’s not the case. Just like He did for the woman caught in the act of adultery, Jesus will rescue you — from your sin and from the judgment it demands. His death and resurrection has already paid the price for the mistakes you have made and the ones you are making right now. And if you trust in that, He will lift you out of the darkness and point you toward the light. He will rescue you for a reason: a second chance.

When Jesus gave the woman caught in adultery a second chance, He didn’t do it to give her freedom to sin, but instead freedom from it. He did it to show her that her life was worth living well and that she had the power to choose that path instead. That’s exactly what He offers us today, and that is a second chance worth taking.

Written by Mary Carver as published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible.

Today marks the first Sunday in the season of Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas Day. Join us here at (in)courage each weekend in December as we learn about the promises of God and count down to Christmas together.

Make the season bright by reflecting on these promises from God. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the season, make time to quiet your heart and hear from His.

The Promise of Presence

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The birth of Jesus Christ came about this way: After his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, it was discovered before they came together that she was pregnant from the Holy Spirit. So her husband, Joseph, being a righteous man, and not wanting to disgrace her publicly, decided to divorce her secretly. But after he had considered these things, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife, because what has been conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Now all this took place to fulfill what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

See, the virgin will become pregnant and give birth to a son, and they will name him Immanuel, which is translated “God is with us.”

When Joseph woke up, he did as the Lord’s angel had commanded him. He married her but did not have sexual relations with her until she gave birth to a son. And he named him Jesus.
Matthew 1:18-25 CSB

I remember the first time I felt like I needed to hide from Jesus. I was at a Christian retreat my freshman year of college. I was hungry for God and wanted to know more of who He is. I believed that, as I was surrounded by His people at the retreat, I would learn more about Him. The Bible was newly alive to me, and with each phrase I was blown away at how it spoke to me and how I could understand it. I wanted more.

I tuned in as the speaker gave his talk, hanging on every word, until he said something that shook me. The speaker asked, “What would you do if Jesus walked into the room right now?”

The immediate thought that came to my mind was: I would hide.

If Jesus came into the room, I would hide. I would go and bend down behind one of the worn couches and make sure He couldn’t see me. Because He wouldn’t want to see me—He, being holy and good, and me, being filthy and having done awful things. I was not clean. I was dirty. A holy God shouldn’t see a dirty girl.

Shame.

I shared my thoughts with my small group, thinking they were obvious and made sense, and someone from the group spoke life to me, “You wouldn’t have to hide,” she said. “Jesus knows everything you’ve done and everything you’re going to do and He loves you anyway. If He were to come into this room, He would embrace you and put His hands on your face and call you ‘daughter.’”

Daughter.

“But to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to be children of God, to those who believe in his name” (John 1:12 CSB).

I had no need to stay in my shame. I was His daughter whom He loved in spite of all the filth. I was His daughter because I believed in Him and because I trusted Him with my life. Isn’t that the most extraordinary thing about God? He takes in the harlots, the outcasts, the dirty, the thieves, and the liars, and He makes them—He makes us—His sons and daughters. Then He makes us new: holy, righteous, perfect.

“For by one offering he has perfected forever those who are sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14 CSB).

God uses the unlikely to make His name known. Did you know there are only four women named in the genealogy of Jesus in Matthew chapter 1? Yep, only four women named: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Mary. Tamar played the harlot, deceived her father-in-law, and had his twin sons. Rahab was a harlot. Ruth was not only a foreigner, but one of the cursed Moabites (Dt 23:3). She even initiated a relationship with Boaz after being instructed to do so by her mother-in-law Naomi. And Mary was a young, pregnant, unmarried virgin.

These women were a part of bringing Jesus to earth, and they are named in the lineage of Christ. God wanted us to know their names. God wanted us to know that Tamar – even though she tricked her father-in-law into sleeping with her—was worthy of being named because she was righteous by faith. God wanted us to know that even a harlot, Rahab, was humble and faithful and, by His grace, had given birth to a son who would become King David’s great-grandfather. God wanted us to know that Boaz had redeemed the young widow who had become a follower of Israel’s God, and that she had become the great-grandmother of King David. And God wanted us to know that what looks like scandal, a young, pregnant virgin, could be so faithful that our minds would be blown away.

Rahab became the mother of Boaz, who married Ruth, and became the father of Obed, who became the father of Jesse, who became the father of King David. Rahab the harlot was the great-great-grandmother of the king after God’s own heart. Rahab is in the line of Jesus.

So if a harlot can have faith and be used by God and receive the blessing of being named in the genealogy of Jesus, you, my friend, can be used by God too. No matter what.

The qualifications are these: Believe. Believe Jesus is who He says He is. Believe that when you turn to Him He makes you new, holy, and righteous. Believe that He will work all things together for His highest good. Believe that He loves you.

Jesus uses the unlikely. He used Tamar and Rahab and Ruth and Mary. He is using me and He is using you — all for His name and His glory.

devotion by Sarah Mae, published in the (in)courage Devotional Bible

Join us here at (in)courage each weekend leading up to Christmas as we share excerpts from the (in)courage Devotional Bible, learn more about the promises of God, and count down to Christmas together. We invite you to take a moment to observe, reflect, and respond:

OBSERVE: Who is God? What are you learning about God’s character from His promises?

REFLECT: Where is God? How is He moving during this busy season?

RESPOND: Pray, confess, and give thanks. How will today’s promise from God make your Christmas richer?

5 Tips for Writing (and Actually Sending) Christmas Cards

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There is no longer to-do list than the one I have during December. It is big, long, and far more ambitious than I am committed to. And at the very top of that list is one thing: actually send my Christmas cards.

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with Christmas cards. All through the years as my children were growing up, I diligently sent Christmas cards. We had moved away, and I wanted to send a photo and a newsletter to friends and family back home. I also knew that if I stopped sending my own cards, I’d fall off others’ card lists, and I really didn’t want to stop receiving them. I loved getting photos and newsletters from friends and family — well, most of them. Some I just couldn’t bring myself to read because they all sounded so perfect. Their children were smarter than my children. They had better vacations, better husbands, and in general, better lives . . . or so it sounded. The Christmas newsletter was the precursor to social media, except that with the newsletter I only had to hear and see the highlight reel one time a year, not every single day.

But still, sending Christmas cards was always at the top of my list because they are valuable. However, last year I got less than halfway through writing my cards, and I threw them all in the trash — even the ones I had addressed and finished. Time had gotten away from me, and I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t send only a few, I couldn’t bear to finish them, and I just couldn’t send them after December 25th.

I didn’t send Christmas cards, and I love Christmas cards.
I didn’t send Christmas cards, and I love all things Christmas.
I didn’t send Christmas cards, and I work for a company that makes greeting cards.

I let time slip away last year, and I was sad, and when I think about it, I still get sad — sad I didn’t find or take the time to write Christmas cards because while words are powerful, handwritten words are priceless.

So this is the year. This is the year to be mindful and deliberate, to respond to Christmas with an attitude of worship, like that very first Christmas.

Mary sang her song, and her soul glorified the Lord. Her spirit rejoiced in God her Savior. The song she sang as she acknowledged the great things He had done and His mercy that lifts up the humble and fills the hungry (Luke 1:46-55).

Mary took the time to worship through song, and I will take the time to worship via meaningful words in each Christmas card I write. It might be five cards or fifty cards, but no matter how many, they will be meaningful. Words of hope, joy, and encouragement from me will be found in the mailboxes of my loved ones, not in my trash.

This is the season to slow down, rest, worship, and tell others of the great things He has done. This year I am giving encouragement — and a few gifts, of course!

Here are five tips for writing (and actually sending) Christmas cards:

  1. Make a Christmas card spreadsheet. Get a count, fill in addresses, and keep track of cards that were sent and/or received.
  2. Buy stamps ahead of time. Go buy them today!
  3. Write and address a few cards each night. Pop them in your mailbox each morning, put up the flag, and feel satisfied about getting closer to the finish line.
  4. Let your kids help! If their handwriting is legible, let them sign the family name on the cards. Give them some stickers or crayons, and let them decorate the envelopes. If they’re older, put them in charge of that spreadsheet, have them pick up stamps at the store, or let them pick out the actual cards. Whatever their ages, they can help out!
  5. Select Christmas cards that reflect Christ! We love a glittery snowman, but when it comes to cards, we love making it about Jesus. In case you need to stock up, here are a few of our favorites from DaySpring.

Friends, there is still time. Enlist your family to help lick envelopes, crank out those address labels, and send off some Christmas cheer.

Send Christmas cards that share the Joy of Christ.

For more inspiration, read these articles from DaySpring:

  1. How Sending a Christmas Card Encourages Your Heart
  2. The Lasting Gift of a Christmas Card
  3. What to Write in a Christmas Card
  4. Who Did You Forget This Christmas?

 

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

When You Need to Change Your Expectations This Christmas

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After moving my mother-in-law into an assisted living facility this past spring, my family helped organize, clean, and empty her home. Let me tell you, this activity teared us right up. From 4th grade through high school, my husband lived in this home. Since 1993, when David and I began dating, this home welcomed me with the widest arms. Our kids — military kids who’ve lived in several states and across one ocean — knew this home to be a fixed point of familiarity amidst constant change. Chock-full of good memories, this home has been a source of comfort and consistency for all of us, and we were rather tender to the thought of telling it goodbye.

After a few interior updates, David and his siblings put the house on the market. This fall, it sold. In one way, it was a relief and a gift to know the house would bless another family as it had ours. In another way, it was a bigger loss, one that solidified the fact that we won’t spend any more holidays or regular days in that home.

While I love Colorado and the life we’ve made here, I occasionally still get homesick for the towering oak trees and tumbling creeks of the Oklahoma prairie where I grew up.

And now, I miss a home that’s no longer in the family.

I’m someone who builds strong attachments to people, yes. But I’ve learned I’m a girl who builds strong attachments to places as well. I can find myself so homesick for a place it makes me heartsick. With Christmas less than a month away, I feel this all the more acutely.

Because of this difficult change and a dozen others recently experienced, I know I stand at the end of an era.

While I’ve undoubtedly seen the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living over the past several years, it’s also been several years of arriving to December feeling like I’ve finished a year-long marathon. Losses have built up over time, and this Christmas season, I’m tired as can be.

Last year, I wrote about how much I’d love for Real Life to take a vacation during Christmas. After all, it interferes with my Christmas “Land of the Sugar Plum Fairies” magic and merry. This year, I don’t need Real Life to take a vacation as much as I need my own Christmas expectations to take a vacation. Because your girl here? She can shoot some sky-high expectations on experiences and people. Most of all, I pile them on myself and then get mighty disappointed when my expectations meet my human limitations, especially at Christmastime.

In light of this, I’m intentionally mitigating my expectations this season. That is, with so much life change, I’m changing and minimizing what I expect this Christmas so that I make room to celebrate – –to enjoy! — my actual Christmas. Here’s what that looks like for me:

1. Choosing my family’s favorite traditions and letting the rest go. When big changes are the way of life, I typically double down on my traditions because they are touchpoints of familiarity amidst the flux. At this time of year, I’m typically inclined to bake a dozen different treats. I want to watch the Village Seven Presbyterian Christmas Concert. I want to decorate to the hilt. I want to see every neighborhood’s Christmas decorations. And truly, I love doing every one of those things — but they aren’t the most important things to my family.  Because of my decreased bandwidth this year, there will be less doing of every extra tradition to make room for more enjoyment of the traditions we choose to do.

2. Expecting a situation or two to arise this Christmas that won’t be ideal. Jesus, our Good News of Great Joy (Luke 2:10), had newly arrived on this earth when King Herod tried to hunt Him down and end His life. From the beginning, the enemy has tried to ruin Christmas. In one way or another, why wouldn’t I expect him to try to do the same for followers of Jesus like me? I’m onto him, and I refuse to allow bad behavior or bad circumstances to steal my Christmas joy.

3. Lighting a candle in the evening. I’ll light a candle every evening to remember and celebrate that not even the threat of death or death itself can extinguish the hope found in the Light of the World (John 8:12). I will do this as a reminder to keep looking up to Jesus instead of out toward my circumstances.

If you’re in the midst of a lot of change or loss, I hope you feel comfortable letting Christmas come to you as it is, without heavy expectations. Because here’s the easy-going truth behind the season: Jesus came down to us. Jesus came down to encourage, not to exhaust. He came to lift our burdens, not lay on expectations. What’s more, Jesus arrived to mighty tired parents, so bringing our tired selves to the manger is perfectly appropriate.

Dear one, may your own Christmas expectations of experiences, of others, and of yourself be minimal and manageable. And may your heart prepare Him room by simply expecting Jesus this Christmas: Christ around you, Christ in you, and Christ always, always for you.

 

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

What Bringing My Kids to Church Shows Me About Jesus

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I don’t dread bringing my kids to church, but I do view it as an adventure each week.

Who’s going to “whisper” the loudest during worship? How many times will that one kid “need” to go to the bathroom during the sermon? What will my toddler do this time?

Oh man, do I ever have stories of kids in church.

I grew up as the daughter of a church choir director, sitting in the choir loft each week. My siblings and I could tell church tales too. And for years and years, my husband was on church staff and worked during services, which left me on my own with two, then three, and eventually four kids in the pew on Sunday mornings. Those mornings always made me sweat.

There was the time that my two-year-old threw down her brand-new Bible and broke the binding, declaring (loudly) that it was too heavy.

There was the time I couldn’t find one of my kids… and eventually located him behind the front desk emptying the receptionist’s candy bowl as fast as he could.

Then there was the time my three-year-old hollered, “I want to goooo!” at an especially quiet moment in the middle of the service.

And many, many stories in between. I get sweaty just remembering the diaper blowouts mid-worship, the nursing in the pews, the hauling of toddlers and babies in car seats, and the diaper bags full of snacks and wipes. This picture was taken on my daughter’s baptism day and perfectly sums up how it felt to bring little ones to church during those early years.

My husband is no longer on church staff so he joins us once again in the pews, our kids are one step older now, and yet so far it’s still kind of stressful getting everyone to church. Whether it’s clothes that aren’t quite right, shoes that have gone missing, forgotten Bibles at home, zipping in late to Sunday School, monitoring the stand up/sit down parts of the liturgy, or shushing the toddler who does not wish to be confined to a row any longer. . . church can be a lot.

Thankfully, our church home welcomes the chaos of children, and it is so helpful to me as a mom when I remember that we’re welcome there, just as we are, in the fullness of who we are (because my kids are really good at being FULLY themselves). I fight with my inner monologue that prefers perfection, even though I know it’s but an illusion. So I breathe deeply. I find another toy or snack for the toddler. I encourage the bigger kids to stand at the proper times. I clap loudly when they play with the youth bell choir, grin broadly when they close each service by playing rhythm instruments along with the closing hymn, and give thanks the whole time that Jesus too welcomes us in all of our imperfection, loudness, questioning, and fidgeting.

He modeled it in so many ways but with kids, He was the best:

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”
Matthew 18:2-5 NIV

Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
Matthew 19:13-14 NIV

Jesus knew exactly what He was doing when He invited the children to His side.

He’d been talking to the grownups for days, outside, likely in the heat and sweltering sun. He and His disciples had traveled from Capernaum at the tippy top of the region of Galilee, down to the region of Judea. This was an approximately 118-mile journey. . . likely made on foot. This was no small trek and yet in the Scriptures, it’s reduced to a single sentence in Matthew 19: “When Jesus had finished saying these things, he left Galilee and went into the region of Judea to the other side of the Jordan.”

When I am hot and sweaty, dirty and dusty, tired and hungry, the last thing I want to do is invite more children into my personal space. Listen, even when all of my basic needs are met and my baseline stress level is at a good place, I still don’t always want extra children over in my home or at my side.

And yet here is Jesus, who has been teaching and traveling and trekking many, many miles. . . and He reaches out for the kiddos. He has spent time answering difficult questions from difficult people, remaining calm and direct when the Pharisees tried to trip Him up, and giving answers not everyone was ready to hear. And in the context of all of that, He didn’t get stressed out by the presence of children. He welcomed them.

He’s been working hard, without a break, and then invites the kids to come up front.

When we invite children anywhere, we invite stickiness and crumbs. We invite sippy cups and loud whispering. We invite clapping during silence and heads thrown back to gaze at the ceiling. We invite questions and interruptions. We invite their parents and caring adults. We invite messes and challenges. We invite noisiness and clamor.

Kids only know one way to show up — just as they are. They bring their true selves to every situation and that’s exactly how Jesus invites us to approach Him.

So I’ll keep bringing my kids to church, making space for them just as they are — wiggles and yells and big feelings and all — even when it makes me sweat. I’ll breathe deep and remind myself that church makes space, and Jesus showed us how to do just that. May we do the same for one another.

 

Listen to Anna read her own devotion today over on the (in)courage podcast or on the player below!