Look Back, but Don’t Stare

Look Back, but Don’t Stare

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After a fun weekend celebrating a friend’s milestone birthday, I drove home determined to find a particular photo of my group of friends from high school. We laughed so much that I wanted to reconnect with other memories from our past.

My high school photos live in a few plastic bins tucked into the back corner of my closet. They rest in obscurity under my Christmas decorations, extra blankets for house guests, and some boxes of my adult kids’ books that I really need to drop off at their homes.

As I peeked inside those plastic time capsules, it felt like a time warp hole opened, transporting me from my dining room table back to not just high school, but other periods in my past:

As a clueless new mom staring down at my newborn wondering why in the world the nurses were going to let me walk out of the hospital with my baby.

Then, as a 25-year-old mom listening to my second child ask, “Snack, Mommy?” in her squeaky little Minnie Mouse voice. Oh, how I loved asking her questions just to hear her tiny little voice.

I turned one more page…

And I gazed at my youngest child. She was our miracle baby eating dinner in her highchair. Her dad’s hand was in the photo as he fed her and wiped her face. We were a happy and whole family back then…

I closed the photo album and my eyes blinked back to the present. I felt the roll of tears slipping down my cheeks and the emotions in my heart were just as real and big as the day those photos were taken. While I may have revisited the past, the sense of happiness, joy, and sadness stuck with me in the present.

As you review past photos or entertain memories, what’s sweet for you? What’s a struggle for you?

I wrestled with whether to reopen the photo album to look at more photos. But could I handle the tension of both the good and bad memories? As I debated my choices, a helpful tool came to mind:

“Look back, but don’t stare.”

I heard this saying years ago in a family addiction recovery group. God used those words as a gentle reminder that I can revisit the memories of the past, but it isn’t healthy to stay there too long. Just as it isn’t safe to drive by only looking in the rearview mirror or backup camera, it’s not healthy for us to leave the gates of our minds open for the past to come and distract us from what’s happening in our present.

Unfortunately, our reflections on the past often tilt toward the negative moments. If we’re being honest, there are times when we prefer to entertain those negative memories. Is it possible that there are times when we revisit bad memories repeatedly in order to justify or cling to our anger, resentment, unforgiveness, or even our self-righteousness?

My friend, are there certain memories that you need to stop staring back at so often?   

When we live in the past, the danger is that we will miss seeing God’s faithfulness, love, and power right here and now.

God is always at work in the right now of your life. No one is diminishing the pain, heartache, or loss that you’ve experienced, but if God’s promises can be trusted, then He is arranging opportunities for healing, renewal, or restoration for you. What if He’s been trying to show you purpose that can come out of that time of pain?

My friend, God’s best for you is yet to come — look forward to it.

Thankfully, we have wisdom from a scriptural author who had a difficult past. Here is his wisdom to guide us practically today:

…but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.
Philippians 3:13-14 (NLT)

As the Apostle Paul wrote these words, I imagine he saw a mix of memories. He would likely have had flashbacks of his years of religious training, his old zealous religious ways, and hunting down early Christians. Imagine him flinching every time he remembered standing by as an early follower of Christ was killed.

Could Paul erase the memory of his past like it never happened? No. But, Paul committed not to let his past hijack God’s freedom and purpose for his future.

Whatever your mind keeps looking back to is where you will stay stuck unless you train yourself, like Paul, to look forward. Paul reminds us that it’s not easy, but it’s worth it!

You experience freedom in your future as you look forward to God instead of fixating on the past.

 

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

Turning Condemnation into Confidence

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We have a waterfall in our backyard. It is one of those man-made water features that includes a small pond, a pump, and the sound of water tumbling softly over a bed of rocks. Sitting in my office, I can hear its rhythm, and my heart and mind settle. It soothes me, delivering a covering of peace while I work, study, and read.

However, I wasn’t able to enjoy this sound much of the summer. The reason? It sprang a leak. In the span of less than 24 hours, the pond’s water level dropped several inches. Since it sits close to the foundation of our home, we couldn’t allow it to continue to leak. So we drained it, dried it, removed all the rocks, and then went on a hunt to find the source of the problem.

It took much longer than we expected. Eventually, we found a hole. Then we patched it, sealed it, and filled the pond back up, thinking the issue was solved.

It wasn’t. Again, the water level dropped dramatically. Once again, we drained, dried, removed, and searched. This time, we discovered a large area where the water liner, due to time and weather, had completely disintegrated. Not a pinhole, but an entire area. We’d missed it the first time around because it sat deep underneath one of the larger rocks. It took time and determination to find the true source of the leak, to bypass the superficial holes that were easier to spot and seal, and instead search for the more serious culprit. Once we found it, we got to work. This time, the repair took longer and required more supplies. And, before we put everything back again, we tested it. It was too important not to be sure.

Now, a couple of weeks later, I sit here with the sound of the water outside my window once again. And although I wish it hadn’t been so much work, I also know the reward was fully worth the effort.

At this stage of my life, I’ve come to realize that my confidence — my internal sense of groundedness and peace — can be like a lovely pond. When it is shored up, leak-proof, it produces an internal haven I can retreat to when life grows hard. But like anything else in this human experience, my confidence is subject to wear and tear. Over time and through various kinds of weather, the liner can wear down, develop holes, even disintegrate. That is why I can’t neglect the internal state of my heart. I must always keep my eye out for evidence of a leak, something that is draining the peace and confidence I have in Christ.

And nothing pokes a hole in our confidence quite like the stab of condemnation.

Condemnation can come in many forms: an unjust accusation, criticism from someone who is supposed to love us, regret over a mistake, memory of a past failure, an inaccurate perception of how God feels about us, or simply physical weariness and exhaustion. Our enemy is adept at using condemnation to poke holes in our confidence because it stands in direct opposition to the gospel. As Paul wrote, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1, NIV).

The Good News of Jesus is that through His life and death and resurrection, the condemnation we deserved was put to death along with Jesus. That horrible thing you did last week? Paid for. That mistake from your youth that you can’t seem to get over? Thrown as far as the east is from the west. That put-down you received from the mouth of someone who is supposed to love you? Jesus is standing guard over you. It can’t stick. The way you feel like you can’t do it right, get it right, live it right? No worries. Jesus became all our brokenness so all that is wrong with us could finally be made whole.

No condemnation. None. Zero.

“Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.”
2 Corinthians 1:21-22 (NIV)

It is God Himself who makes us strong, firm, steadfast. So go ahead and seal up all those holes — especially those that run deep and dark — with the healing power of those words. God does not condemn you. He loves you. And His love is the only seal strong enough to shore up your peace beyond the reach of all that is wrong with the world and deliver a haven of rest and confidence no matter where you are.

 

Listen to this article at the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Convenient Independence: Missing the Meaning of Church

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I love modern conveniences. Next-day delivery? Sign me up. Curbside pickup? Yes, please! Today’s conveniences enable us to pull ourselves up by our metaphorical bootstraps and beam like a proud toddler, “I did it myself!” Our independence seems to grow each year, but when it comes to our faith, this independence can introduce a dangerous idea.   

When my husband and I followed his job out of state and away from our home church, we started listening to online sermons while we looked for a church in our new town. Then we became parents and the idea of getting out during morning naps on Sundays seemed increasingly less convenient. Slowly, our resolve to settle in a local church dwindled and we simply checked the box with sporadic online sermons. 

One day, a friend invited me to her church. My husband and I agreed to go the next Sunday, but our expectations were low. Listening online was simply easier and we weren’t convinced of the need to attend local services. 

When, after the service, my friend invited me to join their women’s Bible study, I was still skeptical. I didn’t think I’d learn anything useful, but my friend would be there and, let’s be honest, they were offering free coffee and childcare.  

At the bible study, there was an elderly Scottish woman at my table. Her prayer was so sincere that I surprised myself by getting emotional. I rarely cry, much less while sitting in a folding chair, holding a styrofoam cup of mediocre coffee. But it had been a long time since I prayed with other Christians, and it encouraged me. I felt a dim flicker of recognition; something in this room felt familiar. What was it?  

I didn’t have a chance to find out. Within two weeks, the pandemic canceled all in-person programming. I returned to my usual online sermons, but I wondered about that moment in the Bible study and the familiar feeling I had when the woman prayed. 

After lockdowns lifted, I clung stubbornly to online sermons instead of returning to the church. The ongoing pandemic gave me a reasonable excuse, but it was convenience rather than germs that kept me away. When my third child was born the following year, the women of my friend’s church ignored my absence and organized my first-ever meal train. With my other kids, grocery pickup and delivery services had taught me and my husband to survive the sleepy blur of postpartum on our own. A meal train felt unnecessary but nice.  

As I cuddled my newborn son and mused gratefully over the care these women had shown, I felt the same vaguely familiar feeling as in that Bible study. Suddenly, it clicked: this was the Church. Not the building, but the people. These women didn’t know me personally, but they didn’t need to. They were simply responding to God’s call of being the Church in community. 

I had convinced myself that attending a local church was nice when it was convenient but ultimately unnecessary. Like the eye and head in Paul’s illustration to the Corinthians, I had turned to the other members of the body and thought, “I don’t need you!” But Paul reminds us the body is a collective – “not made up of one part but of many” (1 Corinthians 12:14 ESV).  

When circumstances and society mold us into independent people, we start to believe the idea that we can DIY a private faith without being involved in the local body of Christ. But this largely misses the meaning of the Church. 

God has not called us to independence; He has called His people to community. When I checked the box with online sermons, I thought I was still living in the Church, albeit individualistically. Online sermons are wonderful, and I still listen regularly, but church — the Church — is more than just sermons. We, God’s gathered people, are the Church.  

From the very beginning, God looked at Adam in the garden and said, “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18). Adam and Eve were God’s first community and the beginning of the Church. Community between Himself and His gathered people was always God’s design. God’s Church is to encourage the believers and to be His hands and feet in caring for the community. Hebrews 10:24-25 reminds us:

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another.”  

Through an encouraging prayer in a folding chair and good meals left at my door, God reminded me of His design for the Church. His design is not independent, and it is not DIY; it’s sometimes ordinary and not always convenient. His design is simply community. 

“If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.”
1 Corinthians 12:19–20 (NIV)

 

The Thing You Need to Remember When You Feel Off or Lost

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Then He said to the crowd, “If any of you wants to be My follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily, and follow Me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for My sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but are yourself lost or destroyed?”
Luke 9:23–25 (NLT)

Have you ever felt like the path you were on was off? That somehow you had taken a wrong turn? After college, I got a job as a traveling professional development trainer. On one occasion, I rented a vehicle and had to rent the GPS separately. Once I got into the car, I put the GPS on the dashboard mount. I put in the address of my location, and it stated that I had a six-and-a-half-hour drive. What happened next caught me off guard.

I was driving in the direction the GPS told me to go, yet I found myself on dirt roads far away from highways. I drove by large farmlands in the middle of Ohio. I kept on the path the GPS told me to take until I realized that every major road I had come across was not part of my route. Instead, my GPS was taking me down back roads. I was headed to Cleveland, and my GPS was directing me down the longest road to get there. After inspecting the GPS, I realized it was set to “back roads only.” Somehow, while the GPS was in my purse, I pressed buttons that set it on a path I was never intended to be on. Once I corrected the settings, I got to my destination by getting on the right road — which was quicker and smoother.

How often do we get into a car (which represents our lives) with a GPS (which represents the preselected settings of our mind and societal pressures) only to be driving in what feels like circles, unable to truly connect with the journey? In moments like these, God, in His love for us, will whisper, “Check the settings,” as He did for me in real-time.

The programming of the world will often leave us feeling lost and confused, wondering, “Where am I?” Check the settings, my friend. When Jesus says you must give up your own way, He is saying, “Once you give up your life, your journey, and your way, and decide to do life My way, that is when you will find your way.”

I can’t tell you it will be an easy or quick journey, but it will be the right one. This type of journey happened to me when I left my job to become a full-time mom and wife. Before I left, I reset my settings by deciding my life was no longer my own, and I gave up trying to live my way. Now it was time to do things God’s way.

Let’s pray:

God, redirect my thoughts to You every single day. Redirect my motives. Redirect my desires. Release me to follow Your plans and Your purpose for my life. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

This article is from Release: 90 Days to Embrace God’s Plan for Your Life by Bridgette Reed.

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Do you ever ask God, ”Is this really what you want me to do?”

If so, you’re not alone! When we don’t see God’s plan playing out, especially the way we think it should, we start to doubt that we are in the right place. During the boredom, the tedious tasks, and discomfort, we begin to question God’s purpose for us, fantasizing about the opportunities we think we should have taken, and eyeing the paths that still appear far more rewarding.

Release: 90 Days to Embrace God’s Plan for Your Life, by Bridgette Reed, is a daily devotional designed to help you live by faith, not by sight. God’s dreams for us are bigger than ours, and His ways are above our ways. In this devotion book, you’ll discover how to embrace God’s perfect purpose for your life and the great joy that’s waiting for you there. It’s time to exchange your plan for God’s plan and experience the true freedom that comes from giving it all to God!

Get your copy today (and pick up a copy for a friend as well). . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN one of 5 copies*!

Then tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a special episode with Becky Keife and Release author Bridgette Reed. Don’t miss it!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close on 10/9 at 11:59pm central.

 

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

For When You Feel Apprehensive and Uncertain about New Life Stages

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By the time we moved at the end of 2020, I was physically and mentally exhausted. I’d painted three bathrooms, three bedrooms, the kitchen cabinets, and all the baseboards as we prepared to sell our home. Not only did our home hold a decade and a half of memories, it housed all the stuff we’d accumulated over fiftteen years and everything our older children left behind when they transitioned to adult life. I still can’t believe we finally emptied the unfinished basement and cleaned out the garage.

Although I was excited to be in our new house and neighborhood, and the winter months gave me a good excuse to stay home and settle in, it was slow going. The unpacking and organizing moved along at a snail’s pace; the preceding months had burned me out soul-deep.

Because I tend to be goal-driven, this breathing room honestly made me uncomfortable. Shouldn’t I be doing something important or tackling a big project? But all along, I felt the Lord offering a period of rest that I needed to accept.

Little did I know how that period of rest and space to breathe would prepare me for what was next.

Over the past few months, I’ve had the renewed capacity to open my mind and life to new opportunities and interests. I’ve been asked to speak out-of-state at two women’s events. Speaking is something I’ve considered for a while, and the invitations feel like a sweet confirmation. I also want to try my hand at writing fiction, which according to my new account at thestorygraph.com, is what I read 94% of the time. I’m listening to podcasts and reading books about writing fiction — it’s so fun! Later this month I’ll attend a writers conference with workshops on topics like point-of-view, story structure, and the art of storytelling.

I feel the Lord’s gentle nudge as He shows me fresh ways to use the gifts He’s given while glorifying Him in the process. It’s both exciting and scary.

My husband and I are inching ever closer to the empty nest years. At the moment we only have two daughters at home. Our 22-year-old works and is about to go back to school and our 17-year-old is a high school senior with a part-time job. After years of living with a full and busy household — and all the sports, classes, and sleepovers that eight children have brought into our life — now there are days the puppy and I are the only ones at home. 

Some women look forward to their empty nest years but I have dreaded them. I enjoy my children and it’s nice they’re older and independent after years of being responsible for babies and toddlers. They run errands for me now instead of vice versa. They’re funny and delightful and we can have mature conversations. But they will leave someday and I need to be ready for it.

One day recently I realized how my new interests of speaking and writing fiction will work well with quieter days and I could envision a future shaped by them. Unexpectedly, a word came to mind: thrive. In that moment, I felt the Lord’s assurance that our home will not become lonely, but a place where I can flourish. It transformed my thinking. Slow, quiet days no longer feel empty but full of promise — I wish I could squeeze more hours from each day and fill them with all the things I want to do.

We often approach new life stages and paths we haven’t walked with apprehension and uncertainty, but we shouldn’t be afraid: God has a plan for us.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

Do you ever resist areas that might be part of your calling because they feel uncomfortable or you don’t know if you’ll excel? I do. But this approach implies the strength for the journey begins and ends with us, and that’s not how God works. Where He calls us to go, where He invites us to try, where He leads us to trust, God will provide what we need.

Dear Lord, help me trust You to lead and support me through life’s changes and to recognize the guidance of the Holy Spirit you placed within me. Give me eyes to see and a heart to seek Your plan for my life and help me to thrive in it. Amen.

 

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

Do You Need Prayer Today?

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Be assured that from the first day we heard of you, we haven’t stopped praying for you, asking God to give you wise minds and spirits attuned to his will, and so acquire a thorough understanding of the ways in which God works.

We pray that you’ll live well for the Master, making him proud of you as you work hard in his orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work.

We pray that you’ll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us.
Colossians 1:9-12 (MSG)

One of our favorite things at (in)courage is linking arms as sisters in Christ through prayer. Today we’re praying the words of Colossians 1:9-12 over you — go back at read the passage again slowly, there is so much goodness there. We’d also love to know how to pray for you specifically by name.

What’s on your heart today? What area of your life do you want to live more like Jesus? Where do you need His strength or joy today? Leave your request in the comments and bless another sister by praying for the person before you.

Battle This Lie: You Aren’t Good Enough and You Never Will Be

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For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.
Ephesians 2:10 (NLT)

I sat on the edge of my seat and listened as the deacon gave announcements. My mind was going a million miles a minute trying to think of a way for this to end well, but I couldn’t see it. The pit of my stomach felt heavy. It was the same feeling I get at the top of a roller coaster, when the anticipation is at its peak and I don’t know if the drop will be exhilarating or excruciating (mostly excruciating). And that was when I noticed the deacon looking in my direction and heard him saying, “Let’s welcome Pastor Grace as she gives the message for us today!”

I had been at the church about six months as the newest associate pastor. I was fresh out of seminary with a master’s degree in world missions but hadn’t made it to the mission field as I had imagined I would. I had never taken a preaching class, but here I was about to take the mic and preach my first sermon.

I wiped my palms down the sides of my skinny jeans, but it didn’t help. I walked to the music stand, laid open my trusty NIV Bible, and proceeded to read Scripture passages for the next twenty minutes, hoping that would be enough to carry the message.

It was embarrassing, a failure — and it happened to be Easter Sunday.

I still cringe when I think about that moment. It’s so deeply imprinted on my memory that now anytime I’m asked to speak or preach, it’s the first thing that comes to mind. And along with it I hear this half-truth: Who do you think you are? You’re not qualified. You don’t have enough experience. You need more training or education to be considered a professional.

I listen to the critic’s voice in my head as if she’s full of wisdom and care for me. It’s easy to understand her logic and to think she’s only trying to spare me from more shame. What she says is partially true: I wasn’t taught to be a preacher. I’ve never taken courses about how to become an excellent speaker. I’ve read some books and listened to some TED talks, but that’s not enough to be considered a professional.

But the critic’s half-truth goes further: If you can’t be a professional, what are you doing? Let others who are more eloquent and knowledgeable do the work of preaching and teaching.

I wrestle these thoughts to their core message, and the lie becomes clear: You aren’t good enough, and you never will be.

The words hurt me where I’m tender. I’m nearly convinced that the lies are true when I remember how many times I’ve heard from God that I am to use my words to lead. He has made that abundantly clear. But in my humanness and doubt, I ask Him one more time, Lord, are You sure?

I sense God lovingly reply, Who are you to say whether My Word is true or not? Am I not the One who created the world and who, even before then, thought of you and all that you would be? Whose voice will you listen to?

He knows I know the answer. I’m His masterpiece, but I’ve counted myself as the one who didn’t make the cut. Because He is the Artist who created me, He knows every stroke of paint, every layered texture, every hidden gift that will unfold as I trust Him and say yes to Him.

So even though my knees still shake and the critic’s voice still whispers lies, the next time I’m asked to speak I step up to the podium, hold the mic, and let His words tell the truth.

Lord, I am Your masterpiece. Even as I say it, I need faith to believe it more. Thank You for the good things You’ve planned for my life from before the beginning of time. When I feel inadequate to step into those good things, I pray that You would be my confidence and that Your Word to me would be the most important qualification I need. Thank You that I can stand tall and firm because You are in me. Amen.

This article was written by Grace P. Cho, as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

You Will Always Be Creative

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I stepped into the recording studio, surrounded by quiet walls all empty of echo.

“You can put your stuff here,” the sound engineer told me. I dropped the heavy book bag carrying my sweater and 64 ounces of water.

There was foam padding and wood pallets on the walls. And then, in the other room, a piano, drums, and framed CDs. In an instant, I was transported back to the dream I cradled some fifteen years ago. The dream of being a singer in a touring rock band — a recording artist releasing album after album.

There, in that moment, the remembrance of this dream also brought back the realization that the dream was long and dead. It wasn’t a dream I held very long, because just as soon as it came to be, I learned to lay it down and leave it by the wayside.

My body, all those years ago, became weak from a bout with Rheumatic Fever. Straining to sing through a sickness that lasted from season to season, I was faced with this one undeniable fact: Singing for a career would not be in the cards for my future. 

I lived in and through all those years since letting my singing fade to silence, seeking God and asking Him what to do with this dream, this deeply embedded desire. But God — He never answered me. He never wrote it on the walls, never spelled out scriptures in the sky. He never audibly, assuredly told me what to do with this one passion I pined so much for.

Time evades and, in time, I got married, birthed two boys, changed careers, and welcomed new weaknesses in my body. Then came the unexpected journey of pitching my book, Let There Be Art, while pregnant in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. In the blur that stretches from 2020 until now, I went from pitching to writing to publishing to the moment I was standing in the studio and recording the audiobook.

There, with my feeble frame standing between padded, soundproof walls, I heard and sensed and felt God impress — so loudly and strongly and surely — upon my heart that, though one creative season of my life came to cease, He was still working His creativity in and through me.

Yes, all along, He had been preparing and propelling me forward to realize and receive new visions for new desires, new creative dreams. He is good that way, in that He is always creating and calling us into redirection, redemption, and reimagining.

In and through seasons, you too will have creative dreams that will dwell and also die. Your creativity will come to exhilarating crescendos, only to come crashing down to the quietest lull. You will ask yourself: Am I still creative? Have I ever been creative? Will I ever be creative again?

You will wonder: Why in all the world did God let that dream discontinue? How could He let it stir only to let it sizzle out? You will ask Him what will ever become of your past passions to bake cakes, sing songs, write books, and dance on dusty stages. Yet, as earnestly as you might ask — or cry, or pray, or seek — you may not ever see scriptures in the sky or words written on walls. You may not hear it in a sermon or a song or from that friend who always says the right thing, at the right time, in the right way, on the right day.

So, hear it now — and believe it to be a truth bound to the heartbeat of God:

You will always be creative. Even when your flesh fails, even when careers change. As the kids come in and out of your home, as the years race and the hands age. When work overwhelms, when dreams dissipate — pay attention. Learn to look at the life that surrounds you. Press into the present, then ponder and pray: How is God creating in and through me now, even if it looks different from that which I first dreamed?

Like me, you may be recording audiobooks instead of rock albums. You may be baking casseroles instead of world-famous cupcakes. Or posting family pictures instead of publishing professional photographs. Or singing your son to sleep instead of singing on a stage. You may be wheeling your way through nature trails instead of running and relishing through them like you did way back when.

You may be making a home out of a fixer-upper house or solving problems with innovative solutions or building a business with your bare hands. Though it may not be perfect, published, or prominent . . . though you may not be heard from any pulpits, movies, or stages . . . you are bringing things, people, and places to life. You are shepherding souls with creative care. You, in all you do, are exemplifying the very passion and pleasure of our Heavenly Father who is always creating, always at work doing new things (Isaiah 43:19, NIV).

Even when life changes, when bodies break, and when creativity seems a long-forgotten, far-fetched myth — you will always be creative, just as The One Who Created You.

Share in a comment: where in your life do you see that God is creating in and through you? Is it in the classroom? At home with your kids? Online where you share pictures and posts? In church where you serve and see people coming to new life?

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For the times we may be unsure about our art — times when our creating and making doesn’t feel possible or purposeful or practical, the new book by (in)courage contributor Rachel Marie Kang, Let There Be Art: The Pleasure and Purpose of Unleashing the Creativity within You, gives you permission to embrace the peace, pleasure, and purpose inherent in your art and in the process of making it.

For more encouragement on creativity and calling, order Let There Be Art. When you order before October 11th, you’ll also receive a free copy of the audiobook of Let There Be Art! Get a copy for yourself and get one to give away — it would make a great birthday or Christmas gift for all the women in your life!

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

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

 

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

*Giveaway open until 10/3/22 at 11:59pm central to US addresses only. Winners will be notified via email. Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

The Reminder Every Woman Needs for Our Battle with Identity

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Slowly stirring the brownie mix at our kitchen island, I listened carefully to the delicate conversations occurring in our living room. It was our church’s middle school discipleship weekend, and our family hosted a group of ten seventh-grade girls in our home for two days.

One can only imagine how this house came to life. It was so loud — the rooms echoed with laughter, hope, and questions. All the questions. Around small groups, we pondered the topic of relationships: relationships with family, friends, boys, authority figures, and yes, frenemies. I witnessed girls’ hearts grow more tender to Jesus, but who also struggled to understand the foundational truth of their identity in Christ.

Do you remember those middle school years (or maybe more experiences jump out to you from high school)? So many tangled emotions. Feeling disconnected and uncertain. Everything seemed so complicated, pressured, and overwhelming. Friendships especially were a most sensitive matter.

Words mark us for decades, don’t they? They drip deep into the marrow of who we are and when we least expect it, the negative memories surface and challenge the truth about ourselves.

As I continued stirring those brownies, the girls shared around their intimate circle. By opening our home, they were able to open their hearts. I sat honored, yet burdened with their stories of struggle.

This new social media savvy generation deals with failures on such a heightened level. When I was in seventh grade, the slight verbal gossip behind one’s back stung, but only a handful might hear it. Today, gossip and personal opinions top internet statuses. Humiliation is public fodder, while fragile emotions erupt amidst ruined reputations in the wake of the all-knowing cyber world.

I continued to listen. Their list of worries tumbled out . . . comparison, loneliness, popularity, bullying, self-image, self-worth.

“I’ll never be as good. Everyone likes her more. I wish I had a friend like that.”

These were no longer seventh-grade girls voicing immature concerns. These were the heart cries of women of all ages. Struggles whispered throughout the generations. These voices might be younger, but the track being played is the same whether twelve or seventy-two.

How do we break the bondage of lies that start so young?

I could feel my momma bear rise up with fighting words towards the master manipulator, this father of lies. The enemy is cunning. He reaches across multigenerational plains and plants seeds of inadequacy at such a young age, but he doesn’t stop there. Those seeds fester and roots burrow deep and destroy across the decades. I still allow doubt to divide my heart. How can we counter this? I’m sure my questions echo yours, echoing the hearts of women everywhere.

There’s only one place for answers.

The girls and I turned there together. We opened God’s Word and explored verses that identified who we are in Christ. My heart cried out. Do they understand the power in these truths? Do we?

The only life-affirming, life-giving, life-changing way to counteract lies is with God’s truth. The only way.

The brownies had cooled by now. Their stomachs followed their noses as the chocolaty aroma filled the air. I knew they’d demolish them in moments, but as I cut each square, I claimed God’s truths for their lives, for my life, for my children’s, and yes, for yours.

This weekend was about more than just a social bonding time (although I am all about that). It was about feeding tummies, and souls, and encouraging a lifelong love affair with our Savior.

The weekend impacted me. I needed the same reminders.

Through the eyes of seventh-grade girls, I saw struggles that mimicked my own. I’m grateful that decades of experience now assure me that as we cling to His truth, lies are thwarted. When we walk in our identity as true image bearers of the most High God, everything changes.

So let’s allow these precious fighting words I shared with the girls to anoint us as we walk forward in His truth:

Lord, You make no mistakes. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalms 139:14)
I am accepted because I am Your daughter, (Galatians 4:6-7) complete in You, (Colossians 2:10) chosen and appointed to bear fruit. (John 15:16)
Lord, I am beautiful because You are beautiful and I am made in Your image. (Genesis 1:27)
I have been redeemed and forgiven (Colossians 1:14), free from condemnation (Romans 8:1-2), and any charge against me. (Romans 8:31-34)
Lord, I can find grace and mercy in You in my time of need. (Hebrews 4:16)
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)

My personal list continues, but can we share more in the comments? Which one do you need as a balm for your soul? To be repeated often. For me, it’s “I am accepted.” No matter how on the fringe I feel, I am accepted because He knows me, and His love never wavers. Thank You, Jesus.

A few years ago, Jen created life giving truth reminders for her children. She thought you might enjoy these free printables too. Tuck them everywhere you need reminders of who you are and whose you are. If we don’t live loved and model it for the next generation, who will?

 

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There Is No Hurry with Love

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Ash falls from the sky again. Wildfires burn, and the sun glows an eerie red-orange. Temperatures soar in the triple digits, but it’s strangely humid, and I hear a hurricane is coming our way. With the moody skies and the strong winds, there’s an energy blowing about that fills me with excitement. Something is coming. Something is around the corner. I can feel it. 

But by the time the hurricane comes to our region, it’s mellowed out to a quiet rainstorm. The tiny drops wet the ground but aren’t enough to satiate its thirst after too many months, even years, of drought.

The anticipation of something exciting peters out, and it’s back to the muggy state of things. And I feel it in my soul. Even though I know change takes time, even though I know it’s not guaranteed, even though I know there is goodness in slowness, I get antsy, restless. I become bored and lethargic.

From where I stand, I see a long road ahead, like a highway in the desert going to who knows where, and I get discouraged.

This is in relation to so many things in my life right now — in parenting, when I’ve tried and tried to teach my kids to be kind to each other and they continue to fight; in diversity, equity, and inclusion work, when it’s unclear if the goals will get us to where we need and want to be; in healing, when the layers of childhood wounds don’t seem to have an end; in art, when success (and what does success even mean?) feels rare and the path to it is vague and fuzzy – and will the effort, time, and commitment lead anywhere or result in anything?

I’m impatient for things to be completed, for change to happen, for signs of life, and though I don’t expect those things to happen overnight, my timeline for them is a lot shorter than is realistic. 

We can wax poetic about the beauty of seasons, but when urgency rings incessantly in our faces and the message of our Western North American culture is to do everything right, right now, it’s hard to know how to embrace the organic pace of growth. 

Anytime I feel stuck in these conundrums and questions of life, I try to think of how God might view things and discern the truth through Divine eyes. If we experience time as God sees it with the perspective of eternity, then the long road ahead that seems to lead nowhere isn’t something to escape but rather a path of grace. Grace to grow at the pace that is necessary and unique to each of us and our circumstances, grace to account for the mistakes and distractions we will face, grace to be patient when things seem to still and slow down or life takes a different turn. 

And perhaps even the endless length of the road is a grace because when we’re with the One who loves us, urgency loses its power, and meaning is created out of love instead of productivity.

Seeing from this perspective settles my soul, and I breathe out the restless energy that’s pent up inside me. My fretting wanes and hope parts a way through discouragement to bolster me again. 

On a recent drive from Southern California to Las Vegas, I marveled over how the once burnt hills of black shrubbery were now vibrant with life and how the desert landscape was greener than I had ever seen it before. I dangerously took picture after picture because I wanted to remember this miraculous view. The wildfires had burned years before and the desert had always been the same old brown, but as I drove down the long road, I witnessed what time and water had done. And it dawned on me, Yes, this is love. Love is patient. There is no hurry with Love.

 

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For the Days You Need Peace and an Attitude Reset

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Your baby is teething and kept waking up at all hours of the night. A rude driver cut you off on your morning commute. Your roommate left her dishes on the kitchen counter — again.

Ugh. Can you feel the tension crawling up your neck?

Or maybe you woke up to a perfect hair day. Your kind neighbor brought in your trash cans. Your kids didn’t fight on the way to school, and the predicted storm instead gave way to clear blue skies.

Hooray! What a glorious day!

It sure is easy to let things that are beyond our control — whether bad or good — dictate our attitude. I see this in my kids too. If they get to play the video game of their choice: happy campers. If I ask them to take a family walk or bring in the trash cans: grumpy complainers. While I desire for (and expect) my children to choose a grateful and cheerful manner whether they get what they want or not, I have to admit I don’t always follow my own standards.

But what does the Bible have to say about our attitude? In a nutshell, it says we should take a cue from Jesus. Listen to the instruction the apostle Paul gave to the Philippians: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3-4 CSB).

There’s that word: humility. It means turning away from self-focus to other-focus, having a posture that chooses to serve instead of strive, and remembering that God is in control and we are not. These instructions lead us to the big takeaway: “Adopt the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5).

When I was younger in my faith, I remember reading Paul’s instructions and thinking it was kind of ridiculous. I mean, Jesus is Jesus. The Savior. God in human flesh. Sacrifice and obedience must come easy for Him, right? How can God expect imperfect us to have the same attitude as perfect Jesus?

While I understand where my younger self was coming from, in truth it was a cop-out. I didn’t want to put others first. It felt like a lot of pressure to try living up to Jesus’ standards. The bar was too high! How could any of us possibly reach it?

If you find your mind wandering down this same line of thinking, it’s time for a full stop. Paul’s instructions to adopt a Christlike posture are not a prescription for religious performance but an invitation to spiritual freedom, to eternal peace in Jesus rather than temporary pleasure in ourselves.

Jesus Himself said, “So if the Son sets you free, you really will be free” (John 8:36). We don’t have to perfectly follow an elaborate set of rules or offer animal sacrifices on an altar to be made right with God. We don’t have to earn our salvation or be a really good person for God to love us. “For you are saved by grace through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is God’s gift — not from works, so that no one can boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9).

We will beat this drum as loud and as long and as often as we need to! Nothing about the peace of Jesus is wrapped up in our performance.

So what does adopting the same attitude as Jesus look like practically? Paul’s teaching in Philippians goes on to unpack this: “Do everything without grumbling and arguing, so that you may be blameless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a crooked and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the world, by holding firm to the word of life” (Philippians 2:14-16).

Hold firm to the word of life. That’s the goal, friend! Jesus said it Himself: “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance” (John 10:10). How do we get this abundant life? Follow God’s Word and Christ’s example. Don’t grumble or complain. Be different from this dark world so you will shine brightly. In this way, the world will know whose you are!

Join me in praying this today:

Jesus, I want to be more like You. Help me adopt Your attitude of humility. Help me take on Your posture of servant-heartedness. I confess I’m often prone to grumble and complain. Help me exchange my irritability for Your peace. May Your light shine through me. I’m Yours. Thank You for being my Savior and Guide. Amen.

Isn’t peace just what we all need right now? (Raising my hand high!)

That’s why I’m so excited to share with you Create in Me a Heart of Peace.

It’s the second in our series of four transformational Bible studies, and it’s now available wherever books are sold, including:

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

Be sure to SIGN UP below so we can send you the first week of the Create in Me a Heart of Peace for FREE!

Sign up for a FREE week!

 

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When Nothing Makes Sense, It’s Time to Listen to Your Body

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Nothing made sense. We trusted our church’s leaders to love. We trusted that working in our church and serving God alongside others would mean sharing a commitment to kindness overcoming pride. When our friends on staff spoke up about how pushed down they felt by our lead pastor, we expected repentance to be more than a word lifted from sacred pages. What does the Word of God even mean if those who preach it don’t obey it? 

That day, my joints were radiating the aching anger my mouth couldn’t bear to form into words. Somehow, in an effort to keep from drowning in our disillusionment, my husband and I decided to drive into the mountains to at least turn our attention to the turning of the aspen leaves. So, with a heating pad plugged into our car’s cigarette lighter to quiet my pain, we started to wind up, up, up Guanella Pass. 

Stratus clouds masked the sun, casting the honeyed leaves with shadows. The narrow road was sleek with rain, practically begging us to go slow. As we snaked up the switchbacks, the mist turned to September snow. Maybe we shouldn’t have come, I thought. I was regretting breaking the Colorado law of living in layers, wishing I had brought my winter jacket instead of hoping the sun would stay all day. We could barely see any yellow leaves through all the snow, and it seemed like yet another decision that would end in disappointment. 

But as we wound down the pass, the snow thinned, revealing glittering medallions of gold at every turn. We pulled in at a trailhead, and I don’t know if beauty is medically considered an anesthetic, but my arthritic joints seemed to think so. I jumped out of the car, nearly running to what looked like a tunnel of gold. I stood on a bed of butterscotch fallen leaves and ran my fingers over the tree’s rain-flecked munsel and cadmium-yellow waving hands. Spellbound by beauty’s song, I knew — we were going to be okay.

a photo from that day, September 30, 2017

When nothing makes sense, nature retells us our shared story. 

Just as green leaves turn to gold before falling to the earth, there is nothing more normal in the pattern of life than descent. Every time we sink with stress, are chased by anxiety, or are paralyzed by problems we never thought we’d have to face, our bodies are descending down a well-worn path to protect us from harm and return us to safety and connection. 

As a trauma-informed, body-centered therapist, I can tell you: your nervous system knows that the path to protection and peace first goes downward. It is learning to witness your own descent into stress with respect that will repair this path into one you can trust will always take you home to joy. 

Your descent makes sense.

God made your body to quickly walk down paths of stress to protect you from harm. When you are disillusioned, full of doubt, overwhelmed, triggered, or feel stuck, your body is telling you that you do not feel adequately safe, seen, and soothed. 

You are not failing; you are feeling. 

You are not faithless. You need a friend.

We were so afraid of losing our livelihood and community at church by confronting the abuse we were witnessing and experiencing in our jobs, and our bodies were telling us day after day that where we were was unsafe. Nothing made sense in that church system because it was not safe. Our discouragement was not a lack of faith; it was our bodies’ wise signal that we were in a dangerous place. Our descent  —into discouragement and even despair — made sense. Our descent pointed out our need for Christ’s help to rise, even if it meant leaving the place we most assumed Christ had blessed. 

Our bodies are brave storytellers. They speak the truth about how safe we seem — in the language of the sensations and emotions we often wish would stay silent. 

Our bodies are courageous guides. They know the path from distress to peace and are simply waiting on our minds to trust them to lead the way. 

Our descent down the winding road of faith and stress becomes far less scary when we realize two things. 1) Christ descended farther into darkness than we ever have and He knows the way to rise. 2) Our bodies were made to walk the whole trail of truth to come back home to peace, connection, and joy. 

The God who names you Beloved has a body too. Christ still sits in skin at the right hand of the Father. His memories of being betrayed by His own people and feeling such intense anxiety before His crucifixion that His sweat was like drops of blood pierce a hole in the universe’s clouds, making our dark descents a place the Spirit’s light can enter in. 

Your body was made to travel home with Christ to peace and joy, not to take a time machine there. The path back into peace first steps through the forests of our fear and over the fallen logs of our lament. Bypassing the forest of your feelings will mean missing Christ in the midst of them. Turn like a friend toward the truth your body is telling about how your life and relationships feel — this is the start of the trail back home. The body’s path back to peace includes honoring our unsettledness, offering gentleness to our fear, expressing our anger in appropriate ways, and crying more tears than we assume is acceptable.

Christ’s resurrection came after death, and you too will rise — through every small death of despair, discouragement, and distress. When we see the symptoms of our stress as signals of our bodies’ need for safety, release, and soothing, we no longer have to shame ourselves for getting stressed.

Our stress can become a sacred place we walk with Christ, hear him call us “Friend,” and tell us that we make sense—even when nothing else does.

Do you want to experience Christ, your Good Shepherd, walking with you on this path of descent into peace? Let K.J. Ramsey’s book, The Lord Is My Courage gently guide you through Psalm 23 to show you how.

 

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The Gift of a Friend Who Is Unfazed by the Mess

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I hadn’t considered the state of my home when I received a text from my friend Julie asking if she could swing by with lunch and the promise of good conversation. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed the state of my home when she made the offer. 

Being overwhelmed with grief, I gladly accepted. Relief temporarily washed over me knowing I wouldn’t have to expend energy I didn’t have on scraping together a mid-day meal for myself and my young daughter. 

When Julie arrived with bulging paper sacks containing the makings of a feast from my favorite burger joint, we quickly emptied the contents onto my glass-top kitchen table and began indulging our tastebuds. 

It wasn’t until I had eaten half of my burger that I realized the layer of grime covering the table’s glass made it look more like a murky, dirt-smeared window than a table fit for dining.

I almost apologized for my domestic failure (while regretting the decision to purchase a clear glass table.) But before I could, tears sprung from my eyes. Again. Lament had become the predominant theme in my life and tears had become a constant interruption.

For months, my vision had looked something like that grubby glass tabletop but clouded by grief instead of grime. I’d experienced my second pregnancy loss, a stillbirth. I couldn’t see anything outside of the heartache that enveloped me, including the dingy state of my home. Life had become a matter of simply surviving. While I desperately wanted to be living a normal life doing normal things like wiping down the kitchen table and prioritizing other household tasks, I just wasn’t. 

I had experienced something outside of normal. Mothers were supposed to raise their babies, not bury them. Life was beyond my control and my only priorities were to grieve and survive a season of deep, messy, cumbersome sorrow. 

After that round of tears dried up, Julie and I continued eating from our to-go containers. She didn’t seem to notice the buildup of filth on my kitchen table, and if she did, she mercifully didn’t seem to care. 

She was unfazed by the mess of my home and of my heart. She sat with me in the grime and the grief. She normalized my tears and listened to my lament. She assured me that there is no timeline for grief and did not pressure me to move on. 

We sat together at a dirty table while I cried and chokingly verbalized my heartache. She did nothing but listen and encourage. 

I was of course grateful for the meal, but more than that I was grateful for someone who wasn’t afraid to sit with me in the mess, in the discomfort of a life that was anything but shiny. 

Far more precious than the food that nourished my body was a friend who nourished my heart and an encounter that nourished my soul. Julie sat with me at my messy table in my messy house and gently bore witness to my messy grief. She did not offer platitudes. She was not alarmed by my visibly untidy life.

When I consider this, I’m reminded that Jesus is a friend who remains unfazed by the messiness of our lives. In fact, He willingly approaches our messes — His very presence providing relief. He dined with the despised, touched the sick, wept with grievers, and washed feet. 

Jesus is not turned off by those whom society would rather ignore, nor does He turns away from illness, grief, or even dirty feet! 

And when I remember that Jesus was more concerned with Martha’s focus on Him than on the tasks begging to be done, I can’t help but think that like Julie, He isn’t fazed by less-than-perfect hospitality either. 

Looking back on that meal I shared with my friend, I’m encouraged in knowing that we can show the love of Jesus simply by sitting with others in whatever messy circumstances they are enduring.  

Because of Jesus’ example, we can be a friend who doesn’t expect perfection but instead approaches messy lives with a tender heart and listening ears, intent on making another’s best interests a priority. We can choose to serve and to love amid stains and scars, blemishes and broken hearts, dirt and distress. 

We can be a friend who is unfazed by the mess, a friend whose gentle presence offers needed relief.  

Who might need you to be this kind of friend today? 

Death Will Try to Take You Out but Love Wins

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But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
2 Corinthians 4:7-12 (NIV)

We know what it’s like to feel pressed from every side. Our stories are all different, but we know our own versions of despair and abandonment. But the death we feel waging war on our bodies, minds, souls is not the end of the story!

Love wins!

We carry within us this greatest Love — the One who died so we could live, the One who compels us to die to ourselves so others can also live. This Love is the strength that carries us when we don’t think we can go another step. He’s the path that shows us where to go when nothing makes sense. Love — God — lives within us, and He wants to show Himself to those around us, to the world, through our imperfectness, so others can see Him clearly.

Let’s love as He loved us — generously, keeping in mind that the treasure of His love is meant to be shared.

Finding Strength and Faithfulness in Small Changes

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Don’t you know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought at a price. So glorify God with your body.
1 Corinthians 6:19–20 CSB

You have restored me to health and let me live.
Isaiah 38:16 CSB

Several years ago, I woke up ready to restore my body.

I had three of my children in less than four years. I’d spent a total of almost seven years either pregnant, nursing, or both, and my body had wrung itself out. It had expanded and deflated, grown and birthed, fed and nourished, carried, rocked, cradled, and chased. And then one day, I realized that I was not pregnant, nursing, or toddler-chasing exhausted.

My body was in need of restoration, so that day I simply decided to be ready to make choices that would restore it back to health. And eighteen months from that day, I was more than sixty pounds lighter.

No, I never followed a specific diet; I merely made one better choice at a time. One donut instead of three. A small latte instead of a large. Daily walks with my dog, our mileage increasing each day. I took my time with the process, making simple changes that added up. One day and one choice and one baby step at a time. As it turns out, slow and steady really does win the race, which in this case led me back to health.

It was never about losing weight; it was about becoming a healthier version of myself for myself. And for me, the journey started with losing weight. To be clear — I wasn’t ashamed of my weight. I wasn’t a bad person because of those extra pounds or a better person after I lost them, because weight does not equal worth. It was simply where I began.

A couple years later, I was thrilled to be expecting my fourth child. My body would once again take on the role of carrier, vessel, and nurturer. As I adjusted my thoughts to literally make space for growth, it was clear that what I’d gained during the journey far outweighed the sixty pounds that I’d lost.

It felt darn good to be able to move in the way I wanted to. I could walk faster and farther than ever before, sometimes even jogging. I was drinking more water each day than I ever had. I felt healthy, strong, and proud of taking time for self-care.

My kids said I was shrinking, but I knew that, choice by choice, I was growing into who I was meant to be.

Our daily choices can become reflections of who we really are.

I think our health matters to God for two reasons. First, God wants us to care for His creation—and that includes our bodies. We care for our church buildings, our homes, and other spaces where we gather and welcome God’s Spirit, right? We spend time cleaning and caring for those spaces, and we deserve the same for ourselves. For me, that looks like eating well and taking daily walks, which in combination led to weight loss. Maybe for you it’s moving your body, cleaning out your closet so it only holds clothes that fit right now, or taking a long bath. Whatever brings God glory and lets you truly live.

Second, I find that when I’m intentionally caring for my body, I’m happier and better able to care for (and about) my family and loved ones. When I take care of myself, everyone around me also benefits, and I believe God cares about this too.

God is cheering us on as we care for ourselves in ways that bring Him glory. God delights in our restoration, in our health, and in His people taking good care of themselves in order to glorify Him—which we can do in big and small ways.

Here’s to recognizing the strength in small changes and the ways they can impact our health and our lives.

Lord, thank You for choosing my heart, soul, and body to live in. My health matters to You, and I’m grateful. Help me to take good care of myself, recognizing that I am a temple of the Holy Spirit. Give me strength to make wise daily choices that will have life-giving, long-term effects. Even in this, I look to You. Amen.

This article was written by Anna E. Rendell, as published in Empowered: More of Him for All of You.

Empowered: More of Him for All of You, by Mary Carver, Grace P. Cho, and Anna E. Rendell is designed to incorporate the five major components of our being — physical, mental, emotional, relational, and spiritual. The sixty Scripture passages and devotions invite you to see from different angles how God empowers us, and each day ends with prayer and reflection questions to deepen the learning. Grab a copy now. We pray it blesses you.

We Make Each Other Better, Braver, Stronger

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The indentation in the sand is small, circular, rough-edged, unremarkable. The kind of thing you’d walk by without a glance in a place littered with shells, where dolphins jump the waves, and sandpipers hunt tiny clams along the shore. The top of this turtle nest is almost invisible, as it’s meant to be. I’ve come to Florida with two friends who are in a mastermind group with me. The place where we’re spending the week is home to over a thousand turtle nests like the one we’re staring at right now.

The nest is marked off with thin wooden stakes that hold important information. A local with wrinkles across her face like lines in a love story with the sun told us how to read the numbers. The top one is the day in the season on which the eggs were laid, a mother turtle dragging herself out of the ocean, leaving her young beneath a pile of sand. According to that number, this nest should hatch tonight.

The top of the nest rolls like a boiling pot and we watch as one tiny head emerges. This process will repeat for two hours as the tiny turtles push up toward the surface. The only way out of this nest is in community. The turtles will push each other upward, stand on each other’s backs, and combine the incremental effort of their tiny fins to push away the sand. There is no solo trek out of this nest, no option for doing it alone. It’s a combined effort, all for one and one for all.

I look at my friends during this process. We’ve been in a mastermind group for years. We’ve helped each other write books, launch businesses, overcome obstacles, not quit on the days we feel discouraged, and remember who we are when other voices in our lives tell us to stop dreaming. Where would we be today without each other?

Our mastermind is simple: Meet once a month and each person gets about an hour to process whatever she would like. That’s it — no fancy agenda or formal questions. Just show up, share, and listen. Over and over again.

More heads appear in the nest. Then suddenly one turtle breaks free. The others follow, climbing the sides of the nest, scattering across the sand, marching toward the ocean. They follow each other toward what they know already in their fragile turtle bones is home.

Isn’t this what we’re all doing too? Helping each other move toward home, the place where we belong? Home to who we’re truly created to be. Home to what we’re called to do. Home to heaven one day, the place with the crystal sea and the Savior who once walked on water.

The waves reach out to welcome the turtles and they are swept into the saltwater. We lose sight of them as they disappear into the night.

I turn toward my friends. “That was amazing!” we say to each other. It’s not the first time we’ve uttered those words. We’ve said it when one of us had a victory, made it through a hard time, did what once felt impossible.

Sometimes when I talk about community like this, people assume it comes easily to me. But I scored 96% introvert on the last quiz I took, I’ve been diagnosed with social anxiety, and just ordering a pizza on the phone makes me nervous. It’s not easy or comfortable for me to reach out to others, it never has been and it likely will never be.

I’ve found when it comes to connection, it’s about feeling the fear and doing it anyway. It’s about surrendering my desire to be sought out and instead showing up as a person who is a safe space for others to become who they were created to be. Will it be awkward? Absolutely. Will it be harder than I thought? Always. Will it be worth it anyway? Yep.

I look at the vast ocean and wonder where each turtle will end up, what their stories will be.

I look at my friends and wonder the same.

I don’t know, but what I’m grateful for and certain of in this moment is that we won’t do it alone.

Do you ever struggle with anxiety like Holley? If so, her new devotional book, What Your Mind Needs for Anxious Moments, will help! It goes from Genesis through Revelation sharing stories of when biblical characters experienced anxiety and what we can learn from their struggles and victories.

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