The Superpower of the Heart

The Superpower of the Heart

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Some years take more out of us than others. 2025 is one of those years.

Loss piles on top of disappointment, and the weight of uncertainty makes it hard to catch our breath. Maybe that’s where you find yourself right now — grieving what was, anxious about what is, unsure of what’s ahead.

This season has been heavy for many of us, not only because of the personal struggles we each carry, but also because of the collective ache woven into our communities and world. It’s a lot to process. And when life feels perpetually marred by grief and loss, it can be hard to know how to keep showing up with hope, much less love.

How do we manage the upheavals in our personal worlds when the actual world we live in seems to have turned upside down?

Yesterday, I spoke with a young woman navigating conflict in her workplace. The details don’t matter, but suffice it to say her office environment has become increasingly hostile over the past year, with much of the hostility directed toward her. Lately, she has lost her characteristic optimism, and she’s struggling to hold on to hope.

That’s when we began discussing empathy.

“I want you to do something for me,” I said.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.

“I want you to practice empathy.”

She then looked at me as if I’d sprouted three heads.

“I know, I know,” I smiled and nodded. “That’s the last thing you want to do. You have every right to be angry. What they did is wrong, and they don’t deserve your kindness.”

It’s true. They didn’t deserve it. But that wasn’t really the point.

“Here’s the thing. I believe part of the reason they behave horribly is because they lack empathy. They don’t see the people around them as human beings with innate dignity and worth. Including you.”

I paused, giving her a moment to process.

“You could certainly do the same, treat them the way they treat you. It might even feel good for a moment.” We laughed, knowing the truth of it.

“But,” I reminded us both, “the person impacted the most will be you, not them. You’ll become exactly what they are.”

That’s when it hit me: Our upside-down world needs more empathy. The hostility is untenable. We’re losing our hold on hope. And at least part of the reason is that we’ve stopped seeing each other as humans with innate dignity and worth. Instead, we see each other as unrecognizable animals, obstacles to our own agendas. In the process, we’ve become animals ourselves.

Empathy, by definition, is the ability to recognize and step into the feelings of another. It comes from the Greek word empatheia — em translated as “in” and pathos as “feeling.” When we intentionally place ourselves “in feeling” with another person, we begin to experience their reality as our own. We understand a bit more about what they think, how they feel, and why they behave as they do. As a result, we gain a perspective that often leads to compassion and kindness.

Empathy may not change the hostile person, but it will keep you and me from becoming the same.

In his letter to the church in Colossae, Paul encouraged the believers to draw from the limitless well of God’s love when they need more empathy:

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.“
Colossians 3:12-14 (NIV)

My friends, you and I are chosen, holy, dearly loved, and forgiven. We have a God who, through Jesus, stepped “in feeling” with us. Becoming fully human, He experienced what you and I experience so that we would never, never be alone.

Now, with such love poured out on us, how can we not do the same?

Every day, we will witness people behaving poorly and encounter others we don’t understand. The temptation when we see and receive such hostility and disrespect is to armor up, shut down, and become equally hostile and disrespectful. But doing so will only make us more like animals and less like Jesus.

Instead, let’s lean into empathy, the superpower of the heart. As we step “in feeling” with others, seeing them the way Jesus sees them, we will infuse our world with much-needed compassion and kindness.

And we’ll find a way to hold on to hope.

 

Listen to Michele’s devotion here or on the (in)courage podcast.

What the World (REALLY) Needs Right Now

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About a month ago, as I sat before a blank screen and blinking cursor, I prayed, Lord, what do you want me to write? My heart was heavy from devastating headlines and a divided world. Families at odds, the Church lacking unity, people who profess Jesus pointing fingers at one another — I was tempted to despair.

Then the Holy Spirit nudged me to check the publication date of this devotion, and I smiled. Today is the day after my first grandchild’s due date. Will he arrive on time, or keep us waiting? Only God knows. But what joy to anticipate his arrival.

As I pondered this new life, I remembered when I first began writing for (in)courage. Back then, my children were 17, 15, and 12. Now they’re grown — 33, 31, and 28. Sixteen years have brought so much change in our family and in our world.

My son and daughter-in-law haven’t revealed their baby’s name yet, but I know their top options. Curious, I looked up the meaning of the one I suspect they’ll choose. What I found stopped me in my tracks: “Bringer of light.”

Wow.

In that moment, nothing in the world’s headlines changed, but something in me did. God reminded me to take my eyes off the darkness and fix them on the true Light — Jesus, the Light of the World (John 8:12).

Our grandson is certain to bring light to our family. All newborns tend to illuminate a room, don’t they? Created in the image of God, babies are a beautiful glimpse of God’s glory. And we need all the glimpses we can get these days.

As I was reminded of who God is and what He has done for me, I thought about how loved and wanted my grandson already is. And it occurred to me that these things – light and love – are what our world desperately needs.

Fear is too loud right now. Outrage is contagious. Everyone feels the need to be right. Too much darkness. Rampant hatefulness.

A song from decades ago stirred in my memory: “What the world needs now is love, sweet love….” Though not written for a Christian audience, it conveys a spiritual reality rooted in the heart of God Himself.

Scripture tells us plainly: “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” (1 John 4:16 ESV). Love is not a suggestion from God — it is His very nature. When we follow Jesus, our lives should reflect His love.

Biblical love isn’t sentimental or shallow. It is powerful, sacrificial, and redemptive. It looks like Jesus leaving heaven’s glory to walk among us. He defended the outcast, touched lepers, forgave sinners, and laid down His life for His friends — and enemies.

Paul reminds us, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13 NIV). If love is the greatest, shouldn’t it also be the loudest witness of our lives?

One of the greatest challenges of our time is the noise. Endless scrolling. Constant outrage. Opinions shaped less by Scripture and more by soundbites, hashtags, and headlines.

We live in an era where truth itself is contested. Algorithms feed us what we already want to hear, creating echo chambers that reinforce our biases and drown out anything that challenges us. No matter how we lean, the danger is the same: being discipled more by our feed than by our faith.

In 2 Timothy 4:3-4, Paul warned Timothy, “…they will turn their ears away from the truth and will turn aside to myths.” What may have been a first-century problem feels like a twenty-first-century epidemic.

When we consume content without discernment, we risk mistaking opinion for truth, outrage for piety, and frequently posted memes for wisdom. Left unchecked, our social and preferred news channels can actually keep us misinformed, which has the potential to harden our hearts toward anyone outside our ideological camp.

What are we to do? How do we honor Jesus and bless those around us in a world so loud, divided, and misled? A few thoughts—

View people through Christ’s eyes. Jesus noticed those others ignored: the woman at the well (John 4), Zacchaeus in the tree (Luke 19). Love begins when we look past labels to see people as image-bearers of God.

Speak healing words.  Proverbs 18:21 says, “The tongue has the power of life and death.” Today, that includes what we type and share. Love resists the urge to repost inflammatory headlines or content we haven’t verified. Words that encourage, build up, and reflect the love and light of Christ bring unity and healing.

Serve. Jesus said, “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve” (Mark 10:45). What if we spent less energy proving our point and more energy serving our neighbors? Love is most visible when it costs us something — time, comfort, or even pride.

Forgive. Forgiveness is a beautiful reflection of Jesus. In a culture addicted to canceling and shaming, forgiveness is radical love. “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32).

We may feel powerless against the big problems, but Jesus never asked us to fix the whole world. He asked us to love the person in front of us.

What the world needs now is not more arguments or opinions, but the love and light of Jesus flowing through ordinary people who dare to live with extraordinary grace.

John summed it up simply: “Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:11). Loved people love people.

So go, dear sisters. Shine brightly. Love like crazy.

These are two things that there’s just too little of.

Finding Purpose in Hidden Seasons

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I am a fall gal. I come alive and live outside when the leaves change color and I can put on a cozy cardigan and the smell of pumpkin spice is everywhere. Almost every Saturday in the fall, we go for a family walk at the zoo to enjoy the cooler Oklahoma temperatures. Last October, my family went on one of our usual visits, and of course, we really wanted to see the bears — but they were nowhere to be found. Then I noticed a sign that said they were hibernating.

So we walked around reading all the information they had posted about bears and hibernation. The more I learned about it, the more intrigued I became. At the beginning of fall, bears will eat nonstop and put on over 100 pounds. Then they go into a den or a cave for hibernation all through winter. They curl up and sleep for months. They don’t wake up to eat, drink, or even go to the bathroom.

Here’s the craziest fact that I read: during hibernation, female bears actually give birth. They wake up just long enough to deliver tiny cubs, weighing less than a pound each, and then they go back to sleep. The mama bear doesn’t eat the whole time, but her body produces milk to feed her babies. By spring, those little cubs have grown strong and healthy, and everyone comes out of the cave ready to explore the world.

God whispered something to my heart that day: the cave isn’t boring or barren. It can be a place of protection, rest, and new life.

In 1 Kings 19, we find the Prophet Elijah retreating into a cave. Just a chapter earlier, he was on Mount Carmel, calling down fire from heaven and watching God prove Himself mightily against the prophets of Baal. Elijah was bold, fearless, and full of faith.

But one chapter later, he’s on the run, exhausted and overwhelmed with fear, anxiety, and despair. He prays, “I have had enough, Lord. Take my life” (1 Kings 19:4).

On Mount Carmel, Elijah was a hero. On Mount Horeb, in the cave, he was just human. And that was exactly where God met him — in his weakness, not his strength.

He ran to Horeb to hide from his problems and isolate himself from the world. But God so intimately, with a whisper, met with Elijah to restore his weary heart and to make him whole.

He was ready to quit, but God reminded Elijah of His purpose. The cave wasn’t the end. It was a reset. Elijah came out of that cave with new instructions and new strength.

Maybe you feel tucked away right now. Maybe life feels dark or even lonely. You wonder if anything good could come out of this hidden season.

We don’t usually choose the cave. More often, circumstances shove us there — burnout, grief, disappointment, and so on. Like Elijah, we run to hide from it all. But Horeb reminds us that hiddenness is not wasted.

Sometimes, God allows us to be hidden for a while. Not because He’s done with us. Not because He’s forgotten us. But because He’s doing something deep inside of us that can only happen in the quiet. Hidden seasons are often necessary to strip away the noise, the striving, the endless pressure to perform. They force us to rest when we would rather keep running. And though they feel barren, God is at work beneath the surface, strengthening and preparing us for the next season.

So, friend, don’t despise the cave. The cave is not punishment. The cave is protection. The cave is an invitation to rest and listen. Because sometimes, the cave is where miracles begin.

Just like the mama bear bringing new life in the dark, God may be birthing something fresh and new in you.
The cave isn’t the end of your story. Listen for the gentle whisper. Trust that God is at work in the hidden place.

 

 

The Three Words Every Weary Woman Needs to Hear

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“I’m running a marathon,” my friend Becca texted me. “You in?”

Becca is one of those friends who can talk you into anything, so I figured there was zero point in arguing. Without skipping a beat, I said yes.

Sort of.

“Can I walk it instead?”

At that point, due to foot pain, I believed that my running days were over. The best I could hope for was walking. So I signed up for a marathon, fully intending to walk the whole thing.

A funny thing happened during my months of training. The short story: Turns out, I could run. So I half-ran/half-walked my way to the finish line in June. And I loved it! Two weeks later, I signed up for another marathon – this time hoping to run most of it. (That marathon happens 13 days from today, so if you see me hobbling around like a penguin, you’ll know why!)

During my training, I thought so much about strength – where it comes from, and how it shows up in surprising ways. I didn’t expect to be reminded of that truth at my mom’s senior-living center.

It happened a few weeks ago, when I was visiting Mom and ran into a woman in her eighties who has some health struggles. As we caught up with one another’s lives, I mentioned that I was training for my second marathon.

For a long beat, she didn’t say a word. She just looked at me, steady and thoughtful. Finally, she leaned in and said these three words: “Women are strong.”

Her words, though simple, landed with weight in my soul.

She went on to tell me how women show their strength in countless ways — by raising families, keeping homes, working jobs, and juggling responsibilities, while somehow keeping it all moving forward.

She said it again, slower this time: “Women are strong.”

Then she added something that stayed with me. She said that when a woman gets older and sees how quickly time is moving, something shifts. She realizes there are still things she wants to do, things she once thought impossible. And she sets out to do them, surprising her younger self.

Her words made me think about my own life and the moments that demanded an inner strength I didn’t believe I had – for instance, raising children into adulthood in this wild world, and helping take care of Dad in his final months on earth. They made me think about this woman, too — how just 30 years ago, she was in the same season of life I’m in now, carrying her own burdens with exceptional courage. Her words reminded me that women can often do more than they first imagined – like how I could run when, at first, I thought I could only walk.

And isn’t that the story of women everywhere? We step into hard things, sometimes believing we can only manage the minimum, but we find that by God’s grace, we can do more than we ever knew.

Finally, her words reminded me of women in the Bible who drew their strength from God.

Deborah, who, with courage and faith, answered God’s call to deliver her people. 

Ruth, who chose loyalty and faithfulness, gleaning in the fields to provide for her mother-in-law.

Esther, who risked her life to save her people, declaring, “If I perish, I perish” (Esther 4:16 NIV).

Mary, who said yes to God’s astonishing plan, carrying the Savior of the world.

Priscilla, who helped build up the early church.

Each of these women showed us that strength comes from trusting God, waiting on Him, and walking in obedience. That same truth is echoed in the words of the prophet Isaiah:

 “…but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.”
Isaiah 40:31 NIV

That’s a good verse for literal runners (“they will run and not grow weary”), but it’s also the best news for all of us, no matter what we’re up against.

You see, every season calls for a new kind of strength — whether it’s raising children, caring for parents, persevering through illness, or starting over in a new relationship.

That woman at Mom’s senior-living center was right. Women are strong.

And whatever season you’re in, the strength you need won’t come from sheer willpower, but from the God who renews us daily. So if you’re doubting yourself today, let me remind you of this truth: You are stronger than you think, because God Himself truly is your strength.

 

 

What I’m Learning in a Long, Hard Season

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Although I’ve walked through many hard seasons, this one has been the hardest and the longest. I’ve come to call it ‘the season that keeps on giving.’ If you’ve ever been there, you know — it’s the season that knocks the wind out of you and takes every ounce of strength just to get out of bed. Some days, I don’t.

I have been left wondering if breakthrough will ever come.

The past couple of months, the trials have amped up. My health has been a bit off. Three dear friends passed away within the span of several weeks, then my car engine died, and I’m in the midst of figuring out my second move in five months.

I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I am downright weary. For over a year, every area of my life has been in some sort of test or trial or attack. In many ways, the enemy has taken some ground in my life. It wasn’t for a lack of my trying to resit, to defend, to stand my ground. But, at some point, I did tap out a little.

My word for the year has been rest — but this year has felt anything but restful. Still, the Lord keeps pressing it into my heart through sermons, songs, books, and friends.

I’ve realized how much my independence fights against rest. My default is to grit my teeth, pull up my bootstraps, and power through. But at its core, that’s pride — believing I can do it all without God or others.

God desires that we be fully dependent on Him. He wants us to trust Him with everything… our provision, our relationships, our hearts, our health, our world. Everything means everything. It’s definitely easier said than done.

True rest isn’t found in my striving or in trying to solve every problem myself. That only leads to exhaustion and spinning in circles. Real rest comes when I surrender and trust God to move in the ways He knows are best.

I’ve wanted to give up more times than I can count. I have wept more times than I care to admit. This season has not been marked with great faith or trust or hope. It has been marked by feeble prayers, doubts, questions, fear, and worry. I haven’t been the “model” Christian. The offering I’ve given to the Lord has been broken hallelujahs and “I praise You” through sobs.

This has been a season of lament and fellowshipping with Christ in His sufferings. I find great comfort that Jesus knows the pain we experience in this life because He experienced it. He knew the pain of betrayal, persecution, grief, need, hunger, rejection, conflict, and death. He knew. He felt. But, He didn’t stay there. He always set His eyes on the Father.

I love the Psalms for that reason. David and other psalmists began much of their writings in some form of turmoil and anguish, but would end in worship and praise to a good God. In this season, I am somewhere in the middle.

I’ve walked through a lot of lows with some hill moments sprinkled in. But, the Lord has been so kind and gracious and patient with me. He has honored my obedience to spend time in communion with Him and to reach out to friends. I’ve been vulnerable in sharing my honest thoughts and feelings. I didn’t have to dress up my situations with platitudes.

These friends have encouraged me, blessed me, and been generous to me. They have prophesied and fervently prayed and warred for me. They have held my arms up, had faith for me when I didn’t have it myself, and declared the future and hope that God has for me. They have reminded me of the Father’s goodness and faithfulness in the midst of the chaos surrounding me.

Along with rest, the Lord has been speaking the word endurance to me. Verses such as Romans 5:3-4, James 1:2-4, and James 1:12 have reminded me of such bittersweet truths during trials and suffering. We are blessed when we remain steadfast under trials. We are to count trials as joy. We are called to rejoice in our sufferings. Those sufferings produce endurance, character, and hope in us.

It hasn’t been easy, but His grace has sustained me — and my community has helped carry me when I couldn’t carry myself.

Some of my circumstances are beginning to lift, and I feel a little more joy and hope breaking through. God is turning things around, and I know He will be faithful to finish what He’s started.

If your season feels endlessly long and hard, He is right there with you. I’d love to pray for you!

 

Listen to Karina’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts.

 

A Prayer for Wisdom, Peace, and Love in Troubled Times

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Lord Jesus,

We come before You as sisters, weary from the weight of the world yet anchored in the hope of Your presence. Our hearts ache with the brokenness we see around us—pain that feels too deep for words, confusion that clouds our minds, and darkness that seems to press in on every side. But today, together, we lift our eyes to You, the Light no darkness can overcome.

We confess that we do not have the wisdom we need, but You are Wisdom itself. We do not have peace in ourselves, but You are the Prince of Peace. We long to receive more of You, Jesus — Your heart, Your mind, Your Spirit within us. Teach us to listen for Your voice in the noise, to root our hope in Your promises, and to walk in step with Your truth.

Lord, stir in us a holy boldness to be women of prayer — women who bend low in humility, rise strong in faith, and pour out Your love in a world desperate for hope. Remind us that prayer is not our last resort but our first line of defense, our lifeline to the One who holds all things together.

Father, as You fill us with Your peace, let it overflow into every corner of our homes, our neighborhoods, our friendships, and beyond. May Your love in us push back fear, comfort the hurting, and point others to the only One who saves.

Together, we declare that our hope is not in ourselves, not in the systems of this world, but in You, Jesus Christ, who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Keep our hearts steadfast. Keep our eyes fixed on You. And keep our prayers rising like incense, a sweet offering of trust and surrender.

In Your mighty and merciful name we pray,
Amen.

“Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying.”
Romans 12:12 NLT

What line resonated with you the most? How can we pray for you today?

When the World Feels Like Too Much

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“I lift up my eyes to you,
to you who sit enthroned in heaven.”
Psalm 123:1 NIV

What are we to do when our world no longer makes sense? What are those who follow Jesus to do? I believe an old refrain holds the key:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, In the light of His glory and grace.

A while back, I had the sweet privilege of serving women in my area as a leader for a community Bible study. Before we’d meet every Thursday, our leadership team began by singing this familiar chorus.

Tendering our hearts in song was effective. The things of earth — never-ending to-do lists, work deadlines, disagreements among friends, challenges with children, arguments with a spouse, health concerns, financial pressures, the clatter of politics, even some of our anxieties and feeling not enough — grow strangely dim. Our worries wither under the blaze of God’s glory.

When we focus on Jesus instead of circumstances, our circumstances may not change, but we sure do.

I know what it’s like to wander around and feel lost, to wrestle in a sea of doubt, to question beliefs you once held dear. And while I don’t know what’s going on with you personally, I know all of us are affected by what’s going on in the world.

How can we possibly handle it? We can’t. We aren’t even supposed to — that’s why we have a Savior! Isn’t that liberating?

Let’s remind one another that the gospel is good news. When we are mindful of who God is and what He has accomplished in our lives and in our world… When we trust that He is good and loves us without condition.. When we study His Word, claim His promises, and accept the forgiveness He offers… When we believe that He holds the whole world in His hands… When we turn our eyes upon Jesus…

We will find peace.

To me, focusing on Jesus isn’t just one way we can best handle a world that feels crazy. It’s the only way.

Written by Robin Dance, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

 

Pour Out Your Heart to God

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“Rise during the night and cry out.
Pour out your hearts like water to the Lord.”
Lamentations 2:19 NLT

Most days after school, I spent fifteen minutes writing notes to God. I think I was twelve or thirteen. I didn’t even call myself a Christian then. But every afternoon, I peeled open a small, light-blue journal and begged God for friends. 

There was a group of girls who gave themselves a special name, and being part of their group was the hope of every junior high girl I knew. So I’d sit down and scribble my heart out to God: God, please let me be invited into this group. When I see so-and-so after fifth period, please let her ask me to join. 

Day after day after day. 

Finally, at some point, I gave up. I gave up on hoping to be invited in and on whether or not God cared. What I didn’t realize is that before I gave up, I’d been building a little habit. 

Years later, it was almost instinctual for me to open up a journal and write my heart out. The God I wondered about years before — the One I thought didn’t care and didn’t answer me, the One I was pouring my heart out to — was the One I now knew. And I already knew how to talk to Him! Throughout those years of honesty and unanswered prayers, I was building a posture I had no idea I would come back to like a muscle with memory. 

Think about your most honest journal entry. What if you addressed it to God? 

God wants our honest feelings. Our emotions and true thoughts aren’t too much. They aren’t a liability; they are a pathway to intimacy and true growth. 

The anxiety and worries that wake us in the night have a welcome place to go. The contents of our hearts do not have to stay inside and hidden. What would you say to God if you were twelve or thirteen again? What would you say if you knew God’s ears and heart were wide, wide open? 

by Tasha Jun, as published in 100 Days of Strength in Any Struggle

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 one next step is simply too much. We get it.  

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.

Loving Well When You Disagree

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We’d been dating for several months when he dropped the bombshell.

In all fairness, he didn’t realize it was a bombshell. He just shared his political leanings, including how he and his family of origin typically voted in local, state, and national elections. It was a random conversation, nothing emotionally charged. Nothing to indicate a significant shift. Just information shared in passing between two people who were dating but still getting to know each other.

The problem? I was raised in a family that was rooted firmly and squarely in the opposing party.

I don’t remember how the conversation even started, but I do remember where we were and how I felt when it happened. The moment he identified his political affiliation, I felt like I had been slapped. We stood on opposite sides of an impossible war. There was no reconciling this difference. As much as we had in common, including our Christian faith, this was a massive and unbreachable divide. And just that fast, I considered ending our relationship. How could we possibly move forward?

I’m a bit embarrassed now to admit how shocked and appalled I felt at learning his political affiliation. I thought he was a good Christian man who loved Jesus and tried to follow Him in his day-to-day life. How could he side with a political party that seemed to be clearly on the opposing side? How could he identify with any party other than the one I voted for? My family history is thick with patriotism and men who served our country in the military during multiple international wars. I respected these relatives of mine, both living and deceased. A sense of national pride was core to my family’s identity.

With one simple, offhand admission, my view of this person — as a man, a potential husband, and a believer — completely changed.

With the benefit of hindsight, I’m surprised how quickly I devalued and disregarded him because of our apparent political differences. To my young and idealistic self, this was a deal-breaker, a relationship-ender. There was only one seemingly right answer to this test question, and he’d answered incorrectly. Because I equated real faith with a specific political party, his political leanings made me question the legitimacy of his faith and thus the legitimacy of our relationship. And somewhere along the way, I’d come to believe you could only be in a deep and meaningful relationship with people you agreed with, especially about something this important.

When I told him as much, his face mirrored my own shock, but for a different reason. He couldn’t understand my disappointment or the arrogance and judgment that came packaged in my voting record. At first he thought I must be joking. Then his chuckle of laughter turned defensive. I don’t blame him. My rejection of him as a person had been quick and complete, and was because of something he didn’t believe warranted such a divide.

By some minor miracle of grace, he forgave my arrogance and we continued the conversation. And it’s a good thing, too, because we’ve enjoyed a beautiful marriage together for more than two decades now. In those twenty years, we’ve walked through many elections and even more conversations. And I came to discover, not long after that initial conversation, that we had far more commonalities than differences when it came to our convictions. He was indeed a man of deep faith, a faith that in many ways was stronger than my own. I just hadn’t withheld my judgment long enough to stay engaged, to connect, and to listen.

It’s good to be principled, to hold deep convictions and live them out with consistency and passion. But when we love our principles and positions to the exclusion of the people standing right in front of us, we’ve lost sight of the gospel — our good news.

You see, Jesus entered into relationship with us when we were actively rebelling against Him. We stood on the opposite side of an impossible divide. There was no way to reach a compromise, no negotiating or converting. We were separated, completely and irrevocably. He had every right to exact judgment and walk away, to let us die in our isolation. He was 100 percent in the right, and we were 100 percent in the wrong.

But rather than walking away, Jesus walked toward, knowing we could do nothing to bridge the divide ourselves. Romans 5:8 (NIV) says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Jesus chose to reconcile us to God at His own cost, taking on Himself the judgment we deserved. Why? Because He loves us.

Instead of rejection, grace. Instead of punishment, love.

Staying engaged in conversation with someone you disagree with is difficult under any circumstances, but even more so when the topic of discussion is emotionally charged. This could include conversations around parenting, politics, health care and choices, end-of-life decisions, religion, finances, morality, education, legislation . . . you get the idea. We have more than enough scenarios in which we might clash. However, avoiding, retaliating, or shutting down difficult conversations and the people you disagree with actually causes you more harm than you realize. It stunts your spiritual growth, inhibits your emotional maturity, limits your pool of potential relationships, and may keep you in a place of loneliness and isolation. Few people want to be friends with a person who is always right.

Navigating difficult conversations isn’t easy. If you feel overwhelmed by or resistant to the idea, I get it. I would rather avoid conflict and tension at all costs. But we have a Jesus who, rather than dodging disagreements, pressed into relationships. That’s the kind of person I want to be too.

If conflict makes you want to shut down, tune out, or walk away, consider these five practices that can help you love well even when you disagree.

1. Stay grounded in your gospel identity. When different convictions and positions become a dividing line in our relationships, it’s often a result of misplaced identity. For example, if my identity is rooted in my political party, I will struggle to connect authentically with anyone who doesn’t share my position. However, you and I are called to find our identity in the saving love and grace of Christ. He defines who we are—not our various positions and affiliations. When we remember that our foremost identity is a sinner saved by grace, we will find it is much easier to connect with other sinners saved by grace.

2. Stay curious and ask questions. There is a direct relationship between my emotional state and my ability to stay curious. The more charged I feel, the less I’m able to stay curious. I find that simply reminding myself to stay curious keeps my emotions in check. How did they come to that conviction? What part of their story am I not aware of? Why might they feel so passionate about their position or so threatened by mine? Staying curious is not easy, but it is possible. And sincere questions are the open door to that kind of engagement.

3. Listen. Listening isn’t simply allowing someone to talk while you formulate your rebuttal. Listening involves your ears, your eyes, and your heart. True listening requires you to put a pause on your position and defense and instead connect with the person. It requires you to resist judgment and instead listen to the words, heart, and intent of the person speaking. It means staying in a place where you want to be in relationship more than you want to be right.

4. Communicate empathy. This may be obvious, but people want to feel heard, including you. Once you’ve listened and asked questions, find at least one connecting point to which you can honestly say, “I can see how you would feel that way” or “I understand where you’re coming from.” Empathy is possible even when you disagree. And it will go a long way to bridge a divide, even if neither of you changes your position.

5. Restate the value of the relationship. At the end of every hard conversation—and perhaps multiple times throughout—it’s critical that you remind yourself and the other person that what matters most is the relationship. This will keep you focused on the ultimate outcome you hopefully both want—a respectful, mature, thriving relationship—in spite of the potential messiness of the conversation. And if you persevere in your pursuit of this goal, you won’t just save the relationship, you’ll likely make it even stronger.

When you find out that someone you care about has a staunchly different opinion or belief than you, it’s so much easier to write them off or build an emotional wall. But what seems easiest in the moment won’t serve us or our relationships well.

It’s time to choose a different way, one that is more humble, curious, and compassionate.

Written by Michele Cushatt, an excerpt from Come Sit With Me.

If You Feel Like You Take Up Too Much Space

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“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!”
1 John 3:1 NIV

I love traveling. I love airports too. Flying, though? I hate flying. See, I’m overweight. And while that fact is always present in my thoughts, never am I more aware of my extra pounds than when I fly.

I hate flying because I take up too much space.

If I have the choice, I always choose an aisle seat. I hold my breath and suck in my gut and pray that the seatbelt will latch. And then I spend the next few hours squeezing my legs together and digging my elbows into my sides as I try to avoid taking up any extra space — in the aisle, in the seats, in the air.

My scrunched-up and sucked-in body language, along with my apologetic glances and occasional “sorrys” after the inevitable bumps and elbow rubs, is one big apology.

I’m sorry for taking up too much space.
I’m sorry for being too big.
I’m sorry for being in the way.
I’m sorry I’m kind of sweaty from speed-walking to the gate.
I’m sorry I reached over you to turn on my fan.
I’m sorry my leg bumped your leg.
I’m sorry I’m in the way.
I’m sorry you have to sit by me.

Maybe you fit just fine in an airplane seat. Maybe it’s something else that makes you hunch your shoulders and stare at the ground with red cheeks, apologizing for part of who you are, for just being yourself.

Are you clumsy? Perpetually late? Awkward? Too talkative? Too loud? Too quiet? Too sarcastic? Too much? Too real? Too you?

No, you aren’t. You are wonderful. You are loved.

And when God looks at His creation (that’s you! and me!), He says, “It is very good.” Regardless of how anyone else sees us, we are God’s workmanship and masterpiece — and He lavishes His love on us.

If you’re tempted to apologize for who you are or how you are, please don’t. Remember that you have a right to be here, to take up space — in a conversation, on the airplane, in the grocery store aisle, at the moms group, in the world. And no matter how much space you take up or how you take up that space, you are welcome and wanted and loved.

Thank You, Lord, for being a safe place where I am called good, where I take up just the right amount of space, where I am seen and loved and welcome to be who I am, how I am, just as I am. Even saying that calms my heart and lets me breathe deeper. Give me the strength to truly recognize that no matter how anyone else sees me, I am God’s workmanship and masterpiece, and I am loved. Amen.

Written by Mary Carver, as published in Take Heart:100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay

Our devotional, Take Heart: 100 Devotions to Seeing God When Life’s Not Okay, is full of stories like this. Women sharing from the depths of their experience, pain, and eventual hope as they struggled through times when life was not okay.

We know that for many of us, life isn’t okay right now, which is why we see each story in this book as an offering of faith, from one heart to another.

 

 

Spend a Moment with God

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Ever sit down with your Bible and still feel distracted, distant, or unsure how to connect with God? You’re not alone. That’s exactly why DaySpring created the Devotional Crossword Puzzle Book: Daily Moments with God — a refreshing way to quiet your mind, engage your heart, and draw closer to Him. Enjoy this excerpt:

“For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.”
2 Corinthians 2:15 NASB

Which scents evoke the strongest feelings or memories for you? Is it gingerbread or clove oranges at Christmas? The seaside air of a childhood vacation? The rose milk lotion that your grandmother wore? Which scents always stir you to close your eyes and remember? Are they good feelings or bad? Regardless, the sense of smell is extremely powerful in reminding us of where we’ve been and whom we’ve been with.  

One striking thing about fragrances is that they can always be identified because they are always the same. Cinnamon is cinnamon; sulfur (yuck!) is sulfur. You know it when you smell it.  

Jesus Himself has a fragrance. And whether a person likes Him or not, He is known. A person cannot be confronted with Him and not be changed, and a person cannot forget the impact of His influence. As you and I get to know Him, we begin to take on the fragrance of Christ. Sweet to anyone with an open heart and bitter to those who aren’t interested, the presence of Jesus in us makes an impact on others. We can change the world that way. We can leave the essence of His love and grace everywhere we go, and pray that the scent of our Savior becomes the sweetest smell that anyone will ever remember. 

God, make me a diffuser for the fragrance of Christ! Make me more and more like You so people will be drawn to Your presence. Amen.

The Devotional Crossword Puzzle Book: Daily Moments With God has thirty-six devotions like the one you just read, each one pointing you to a loving God who cares deeply for you. After each devotion, you’ll find a crossword puzzle with clues that directly correspond with that day’s message and Scripture passages! You’re invited to refresh your spirit with what it needs most — the presence of God. As you read the devotions and work through the puzzles, you will engage with His Word, listen for His voice, and find rest in His arms. 

Get comfy, grab a pencil, and get ready for your heart to be warmed, your spirit to be refreshed, and your mind to be both challenged and inspired.

 We LOVE this devotional puzzle book, and we think you will too… so we’re giving away FIVE copies*! To enter, just leave a comment below.

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses only, and closes on 10/3/2025 at 11:59 pm Central.

The Real Problem with the World Today

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While sitting under the forest green umbrella at a favorite coffee house, a friend of mine who recently moved to my town of Colorado Springs shared with me how much she wanted to connect with friends here. To that end, she asked a woman to coffee three different times — and that woman said no not once, not twice, but all three times.

She shook her head, and her curls danced lightly in the late August breeze. But her heart weighed heavier. Swirling her iced coffee in her hand, she said, “You know, it takes so much gumption and vulnerability to ask someone to spend time with you, especially when you’re new. Being turned down repeatedly discouraged me a good deal.”

As I listened to her, my heart ached. Perhaps her schedule was such that she genuinely couldn’t say yes, but I still found it easy to get frustrated at the woman who kept saying no. Before I let myself sit too high on my horse, however, a memory rose up — one that reminded me I’m not so different.

A couple of years ago, a good friend of mine asked me if I’d mind meeting a good friend of hers who had moved to Colorado Springs.

I told my friend, “Oh, I’d love to! No problem at all!” And I completely meant it.

But then life hit hard, and I back-burnered that request till it fell off the stove completely. I never reached out, and she’s since moved away. How I regret not making time as I said I would. The Bible talks about letting our yes be a yes, and in that, I failed.

These coffee dates may seem small, but they exposed something deeper in me: how much more quickly I see someone else’s failure to love well than I see my own failure to love well. And if I’m honest, that same bent shows up not just in my friendships, but in how I view the world’s troubles too.

As I type this, it’s been a long, heavy week full of heart-wrenching, tragic news. Fixing this world is above my pay grade, though I have my ideas. And I’ll admit that when I mull over why things are the way they are, I often think the problem is with a certain group of people.

In a sermon years ago, the late pastor Dr. Tim Keller relayed a story about a time when a prominent British newspaper published a series of letters and essays where people answered the question, “What is wrong with the world today?” Naturally, people responded with lengthy epistles regarding their convictions on the world’s problems. G.K. Chesterton, an early 20th-century British journalist, author, and Christian apologist, responded to this question, too. In his own letter, he succinctly stated:

“Dear ______ Times,

The problem with the world is me.

Sincerely,

GK”

About this, Dr. Keller states, “We all think . . . if someone would deal with that group or those outside forces, then things would be okay. But the real Messiah always comes and says, ‘. . .repent. . .Your primary problem…is you. Not them, you.’ The reason [people] rejected the Messiah the first time was they expected the Messiah to say [others were] the problem. But the real Messiah came along and said, ‘…repent, you’re the problem.'”

This is what I know: the closer I walk with Jesus, the more aware I am of my own depravity. I can’t help but see that the world’s problem is my individual problem with pride, self-centeredness, foolishness, and hard-heartedness. When I mull over my sin, I’m ever faster to follow Jesus’s directive to repent.

Getting on my knees, I say, “Lord, forgive me for the times I choose my way over Your way. Forgive me for not wanting to deal with the sin in my own heart first. Forgive me for wanting to shake my fist at what others wrongly do while simultaneously giving myself a free pass for my own wrongdoing. Thank you that you take my sin and wash it white as snow.”

And when I get up off my knees, I’m left feeling lighter and loved, not shamed.

Of course, I don’t want to bury my head in the sand and act like there isn’t evil in the world to pray about and fight against. I don’t want to neglect praying for God’s will and His ways to flood the hearts of others, as well as my own. Different sins have different earthly consequences, certainly, but all sin hurts this world from advancing God’s glory and our good. So, I want a mindset that regularly repents of my own self-absorbed behavior (behavior that creates more negative consequences than I’d like to admit).

This last weekend, a darling young mama I’d connected with online reached out to me because she was speaking at an event in my own neighborhood,

“Do you have 30 minutes to meet for coffee?” she asked.

I waffled because I had a lot of personal “to-do’s” that day. And really, it wouldn’t have been wrong to say no. But I thought of my friend under the green umbrella and the sting of rejection she carried. I didn’t want to contribute to someone else feeling the same way.

By God’s grace, I said yes. And I’m so glad I did. Her spirit shone with a light that spilled from within, and I left our time encouraged, reminded that because of Jesus, even when I’ve failed, I don’t have to fail the same way tomorrow.

Each new “yes” is a chance to reflect His love and redeem what once was lost.

Thanks be to the good Lord above.

 

Hope of the End of September

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“The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.”
Exodus 14:14 NLT

The end of September can feel weighty. The world headlines alone carry enough sorrow to bow our shoulders. Add to that the quiet burdens tucked into our own lives — strained relationships, uncertain futures, financial pressures, hidden griefs.

Sometimes the load feels too much, and we wonder if God sees or if He’ll come through.

The Israelites knew this feeling. Freshly freed from Egypt, they suddenly found themselves trapped — an impassable sea before them and Pharaoh’s army thundering behind. Fear surged. Despair whispered that hope was lost. Yet right there, hemmed in on every side, God was at work. He told His people to stand firm and watch. And then, He split the sea. He made a way when there was no way.

This is our God. The same God who fought for His people at the Red Sea is fighting for you now.He has not stopped working. He has not forgotten how to provide. Even if you cannot see the path forward, He is already making one.

As September closes and a new month begins, rest in this truth: your heaviness is held by the God who parts seas.

Prayer 
Lord, You see the weight I’m carrying and the fear I cannot name. Thank You for reminding me that I don’t have to fight alone — you fight for me. You provide when I can’t see a way. Help me to trust Your presence in the middle of my uncertainty. Make a way forward, Lord, and keep my heart steady as I wait on You. Amen.

Light the Candle and Speak Their Name

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I light the candle. No one sees it but me . . . but it glows like a prayer. It flickers behind the glass, steady and silent. It doesn’t shout or plead. It doesn’t accuse. It simply shines. Not as decoration, but as declaration: “You are remembered. You are still wanted here.”

This small flame has watched birthdays pass by like shadows on the wall. It has stood in vigil through Christmases that came without cards, without phone calls, without even a photo of the newest baby — born over a year ago.

We live four hours away. But miles mean little when hearts drift further. No harsh words. No ruptured bond. Just . . . omission. And that quiet omission aches louder than anger ever could. 

Still, I light the candle. Still, I wait.

We often say there’s a God-shaped hole in every heart — an emptiness only He can fill. That’s true. But as mothers, we carry another hollow space. A child-shaped hole that aches when arms go empty. A longing not to possess or control — but to be invited back into the circle of their days. To be remembered in the details: a photo, a question, a porch light turned on.

Yesterday, as I whispered one more prayer, it hit me — God knows this kind of ache. He has felt the sting of our silence, the distance of His children, the pain of unreturned love. And He still pursues.

This, I realized, is not just maternal grief. It’s sacred participation.

No, my suffering is not loud. But I have known what it is to be unseen by the ones I would give anything to hold. And in that quiet ache, I’ve seen Christ’s face clearer. Jesus told a story once — about a shepherd who noticed that one sheep had wandered off. Not many would notice. But He did. And He left the ninety-nine to go after that one.

That is the Shepherd I follow.

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.
John 10:27 ESV

The One who walks dusty hills in search of the distant. The One who sees the flicker of a grandmother’s candle and knows exactly who it’s for. He knows my voice when I call out their names in prayer. He knows my heart when I whisper their faces into the dark. And somehow, in His perfect love, He is calling to them, too — even when I cannot.

When I hold tight to walking by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7), it’s not a platitude. It’s my posture. My declaration. My, yet will I follow Him. I walk by faith that love matters, even when unseen. I walk by faith that God is working, even in the silence. I walk by faith that my unseen legacy still echoes in heaven.

Yes, sight tells me I’m forgotten. Sight counts the months of silence and measures the miles of distance. But faith? Faith sees the Shepherd’s hand at work in places I cannot reach. Faith trusts that the same God who calls me His own is tenderly calling them, too. 

If you’re holding space for someone who no longer includes you, you’re not alone. If your prayers echo in silence, if your love feels invisible, you are still seen. The Shepherd walks your path. He keeps record of your tears, and He holds the hearts you long to hold again.

So, light the candle. Speak their name in prayer. Take one quiet step of faith today. Because waiting, when done in love, becomes worship, and you are part of something eternal. Fashioned by His hands, guided by His compass true, sent to bear His glory in all we say and do.

For the One Distracted, Upset, and Ready to Be Honest

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Sixty-three women gathered in a mountain lodge as sweat trickled down their temples and battery-powered lanterns flickered in the corners. The power was out. No AC. No lights. No mic. And did I mention I was the weekend speaker?

The worship team sang a cappella. Women lifted their hands in praise while others used their retreat program to fan flushed faces. The atmosphere felt heavy—yet in the middle of it, I whispered, Jesus, make me tender. Let them encounter Your presence.

I stood up that Friday night without a mic and barely enough light to see my notes. A high-pitched alarm screeched incessantly. A noisy tractor drove by. The distractions and irritations were almost comical. I stood before the visibly wilted and weary group, bowed my head and belted out a prayer that I can only describe as from the Holy Spirit – because the atmosphere changed.

Where there was once grumbling and commotion, God now had our attention.

The theme of the retreat was Stay. It was all about practicing God’s presence. I opened with a message on what it means to Stay Tender to God’s Voice – and all the things that keep us hardened to His presence.

We talked about Martha. The one who was worried and upset. The one distracted by her many tasks. The one who came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, don’t you care…?”

Oh, how like Martha we can be. (Hi, I’m raising my hand.)

I’m like Martha when I’m worried about what to make for dinner while playing Uber driver for my teenagers (and how in the world do I get rid of that smell in their soccer bags?). I’m like Martha when the needs around me are overwhelming — but someone’s gotta take care of it and I feel like I’m the only one. I’m like Martha when God invites me to speak at a retreat, but it’s dark and I’m sticky with sweat and straining my voice to project and worried the right words won’t land.

Martha often gets a bad rap because being worried and upset isn’t a good look on anyone, and we quickly focus on the sister sitting at Jesus’s feet who chose what’s better.

There’s no doubt in my mind that I want to be like Mary, soaking up every word from my Savior. But I think we often skip past the very good thing Martha did in the midst of her meltdown:

Martha was distracted by her many tasks, and she came up and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to serve alone? So tell her to give me a hand.”
Luke 10:40 CSB

In her frenzy and frustration, Martha turned to her friend, Jesus, and told Him exactly what she was feeling and how she saw the situation.

Martha told the truth. And that truth-telling primed her heart to receive His truth.

“Martha, Martha,” Jesus said, “you are worried and upset about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has made the right choice, and it will not be taken away from her.” (41-42)

Sometimes we can’t see God’s care because we’re too focused on what we’re carrying.

Sometimes we have to first recognize and confess what’s in our hearts before we’re ready to sit at Jesus’s feet.

Jesus didn’t scold Martha’s honesty; He saw her, affirmed her, and then redirected her.

What are you worried and upset about today? Be honest with Jesus.

Honesty with God is the pathway to intimacy with God.

Honesty primes the heart for receptivity.

We have to be receptive – tender – to God’s voice to be transformed by God’s presence.

In order to truly engage with Jesus, Martha had to tell the truth about the distractions that were keeping her heart tough. Friends, we have to do the same.

Come to Jesus as you are. Come frazzled, distracted, or weighed down. Don’t hold back what’s really in your heart. Don’t wait for the noise to die down or for life to feel manageable. Bring your worries. Bring your overwhelm.

Tell Jesus the truth — because only then can He meet you with His.

The lights eventually came back on, and the room erupted in cheers. But the real breakthrough had already happened: God’s presence had pierced the dark, tenderizing our hearts and drawing us closer to Him.

Becky’s new book, A Verse a Day for the Anxious Soul, is a gentle guide into the presence of Jesus — especially when your heart feels heavy or tangled. Order your copy today.

 

God Turns Wasteland into Holy Ground

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Sometimes life feels like a wasteland. Maybe you’re holding onto pain from a relationship that didn’t turn out as you hoped. Or perhaps you’re burdened by the death of a dream or discouraged by unanswered prayers. Maybe the daily routine of groceries, bills, and doctor’s appointments makes you wonder if God even notices you anymore.

I know that feeling. And I think Moses did, too.

When we meet Moses in Exodus 3, he isn’t in a temple, nor is he deep in prayer. He’s not expecting a spiritual encounter. He’s just at work — tending sheep on Mount Horeb, a place whose very name means “wasteland.” (If there’s a less likely place to encounter God, I don’t know it.)

Moses had been through a lot. Rescued as a baby from Pharaoh’s cruel decree, raised in the palace but deeply aware of his Hebrew identity, he carried a complicated past. One rash act — killing an Egyptian overseer — caused him to run for his life. In Midian, far from the drama of his youth, he settled into a life of anonymity. He married, became a father, and tried to build a quiet life.

The Moses who once held the future of a people in his hands now lived in obscurity, walking the same desolate hills day after day. I imagine he was tired. Maybe a bit cynical. Maybe convinced that his life’s most meaningful chapters were behind him.

But then: a bush ablaze — full of flames but not consumed.

Moses wasn’t looking for God. But God was looking for Moses.

Curiosity tugged Moses forward. He moved closer, maybe squinting at the strange sight. And it’s only once Moses draws near that God speaks his name: “Moses, Moses.”

God tells him, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

Holy ground? Here? In the wasteland?

Yes.

We have a God who turns wastelands into holy places, who transforms the everyday into sacred, and who takes a shepherd in hiding and names him a deliverer.

Moses didn’t see himself as qualified. He rattled off excuses: I’m not a good speaker. People won’t trust me. I’m just a nobody. And maybe you’ve whispered the same excuses: I’m too old. I’m too tired. I’m too young. I’m not spiritual enough. I’ve messed up too much.

But for every excuse Moses offered, God had an answer: “I will be with you.”

Maybe you feel like you’re wandering in a wasteland right now. Like you’re weighed down with disappointment or regret. Maybe you feel that your life is unremarkable… and, if you’re being honest, forgettable.

But God sees you. God calls your name. You may not get a burning bush, but God is still in this business of pursuing us, of interrupting us. God is still stirring our curiosity and surprising us with grace. We just have to pay attention.

What if your weekday morning is precisely where God wants to meet you? What if the load of laundry, the school pickup line, or the work meeting is not wasted space but sacred ground?

The mystery of God is that we don’t always find certainty, but we do find presence. And in that presence, wastelands change.

The very place where Moses hid became the starting point for his calling. His ordinary day turned into a holy encounter that transformed everything.

What might happen if you stayed curious, too? If you moved toward and opened yourself to the possibility that God is nearer than you imagined?

Take off your shoes. Right here, right now, you’re on holy ground.

 

Listen to Kayla’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts.