When Suffering Feels Too Long But God Is Right on Time

When Suffering Feels Too Long But God Is Right on Time

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A couple of years ago, we left a church where we had not only invested our time and money, but entrusted our souls to the leaders. When we left because of misuse of power and the neglect of women, it was heartbreaking but we were okay . . . ish. The pandemic was raging on and our focus was sort of elsewhere. Not only that, but the political climate was tenuous and demanding. I was also writing a book and had plenty of work to hide myself in. So in short, I didn’t really focus on that trauma because I didn’t have to, there was no space for it. And I don’t really like to focus on the bad anyway. Where are my fellow Enneagram 7’s at? We do well at reframing everything and it serves us. For a time, that is. 

Fast forward to this summer. I turned in the last chapter of my book, the pandemic seemed like a thing of the past, politics were a bit quieter, and then all of the sudden, there was nothing pressing for me to spend my time on. I certainly wasn’t going to write another book (No, O God, beseech your servant and don’t make me go through that again). I went on long walks, listened to jazz, and composed a novel in my head. Maybe I’ll sit down and write it out this winter, I thought. When it turned cold, I didn’t want to sit and write at all, so I started painting.

Though I am not the next Picasso, it occurred to me that I might be taking an accidental sabbatical. It was nice to create differently and I tried not to wonder what was next for me. With the space and time, I found myself working on several projects surrounding women of the Bible for speaking engagements and podcasts. I also had to work on an internal project about these women for the church I am now a part of. Yes, even though I was hurt inside the church, I still love her and am drawn to her. I just couldn’t quit the Bride of Christ. 

As the projects correlated with one another, almost coincidentally, I couldn’t stop seeing women popping up all over the place. Because I had the time, I began studying, listening to podcasts, learning to understand the Hebrew context, and reading the Greek and interlinear Bible for hours upon hours each day. I was ravenous and the Word was living and active. It was like I was starved for so long, I couldn’t stop feasting! What’s more, I found myself weeping as I read the impact these women had on the Church, how Jesus included them in His ministry as important co-laborers, and how He was so tender toward them.

I had not experienced this expression of Jesus in my old church which deeply wounded me, and what God was doing with all the “coincidental” projects wasn’t about gaining more knowledge — He was healing me with His Word.

I didn’t ask for the healing, though I needed it desperately. I didn’t make space to deal with my wounds on purpose; He created that space for me. I didn’t have an eagerness to learn about women in the Bible; He made projects come my way so that I would have to see His eager proximity to women in Scripture. And God did it in His perfect timing, though I had been suffering for many years.

It was like scales were falling off my eyes and deep wounds that I band-aided were being stitched, salved, dressed. I was coming back alive after a very long sleep, dead in many places. It reminded me of a story about Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, some of Jesus’ very close friends.

So the sisters sent word to Him, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.” But when Jesus heard this, He said, “This sickness is not meant for death, but is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by it.” (Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister, and Lazarus.)So when He heard that he was sick, He then stayed two days longer in the place where He was.
John 11:3-6

When Jesus finally travels to Judea to be with His friends, He sees Mary weeping, and all the others in deep despair, and “Jesus wept.” Even though He knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead, Mary and Martha’s sadness, their despair, were His also. But what interested me the most was that Jesus waited. He waited on purpose. He waited for the death to occur so that the people at the tomb, and for generations to come, would see the glory of God in the resurrection of Lazarus. He let Mary fall at His feet. He was not afraid of her strong emotions and her unabashed declaration of “If you had only!” No, Jesus wept with them, He allowed the desperate tears and the death — and then He commanded Lazarus to come out of the tomb! 

Here’s good news: Jesus is still restoring the dead to life, you and me included. He is still commanding us out of the tomb, unbinding us from the burial wrappings of trauma and hopelessness, in perfect timing, even when we wonder where He was and why He waited so long. If you feel like you need a resurrection, you’re in good company. You serve the God of death to life! He did it for me, and He can do it for you.

 

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Our Source of True Strength

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It happened in a span of minutes. One moment I handed a fresh loaf of pumpkin cake to my neighbor and, minutes later, I was falling off the single step of her front porch, rolling my ankle in the process. Feeling something “snap” across the top of my foot, I went from zero to ten on the pain scale in an instant. Unable to get back to my feet, my neighbor bent down and lifted me to balance on my good foot. Then together, we hopped to her couch to devise a plan. I couldn’t walk or put any weight on my right leg. And based on the speed of the swelling, I needed to get to the ER.

Two hours and an x-ray later, we learned my foot didn’t appear to be broken. But it was twice its normal size —  something that could not be ignored. So they scheduled me an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon a few days later, where we got even better news: no surgery required. The bad news, however? I was prescribed a boot and no driving for three weeks.

Three. Weeks.

That may not sound like bad news, but for a woman who moves at warp speed, it felt impossible. Ours is an often overwhelming life with full-time jobs and three non-driving teenagers still at home. Also, we were on the verge of the holiday break including Christmas and New Years’ celebrations. How could I get everything done without being able to walk or drive?

I did, in fact, survive. But I learned a hard lesson in the process: I don’t do “still” very well.

In fact, I don’t do “still” at all. Instead, I pushed my limits and walked sooner than I was supposed to. As a result, the swelling came back, as did the pain. Worse, it took longer for me to heal than it should have. My attempts to shorten my rest actually prolonged it. Rather than help me regain my strength, my dogged determination to keep moving in my own strength sapped it. I was weaker — not stronger — due to my stubborn refusal to rest.

In the Old Testament book of Isaiah, the prophet addressed a similar stubbornness in God’s people. Rather than a foot problem, they had a rebellion problem. Like me, they were stubborn and self-sufficient. Rather than trusting in God’s presence and provision, they preferred allegiance to the seemingly powerful nation of Egypt. After all, Egypt and all of her horses and chariots appeared strong, invincible, and impressive. So God’s people chose busyness over submission, confidence in the tangible rather than trust in the divine. As a result, they ended up even weaker than before.

Through the prophet, God gave them a stern rebuke:

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:
“In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it.”
Isaiah 30:15

But you would have none of it. 

Whenever I read Isaiah 30:15, I want to skip over that last part of the verse. I’d rather sit in the promise than face my stubbornness.

Like Israel, God has told me, again and again, the secret of true strength: Trust. Trusting in God and His strength is where I’ll find my own. In relationship with Him is where I’ll find my soul’s rest so that I can endure the day-to-day of real life. Too often, however, I prefer to climb onto the horses of my own willpower and self-determination. Like the Israelites, I waste far too much time flexing my Egyptian muscles before I realize how utterly ineffective they are.

I don’t need more human strength. I need Divine-delivered rescue. And this is where I’ll find it:

  1. Repentance and Rest. To find new strength, we must admit we have no ability to save ourselves. This is where it starts, with admitting our need and relinquishing our control to the God who is worthy of it. We can rest knowing God is at work. And His work accomplishes far more than ours. God, I confess I have spent too many days and years trying to save myself, trying to earn my rescue. I am weak and weary. I repent of my stubborn dependence on myself and other lesser saviors. Instead, I choose to rest in you. You are what I need most of all.
  2. Quietness and Trust: Whereas rebellion is loud, submission is soft. The more we resist, the louder and busier we become. But God isn’t inviting us to work harder and control more. He is inviting us to relinquish our grip on our own lives, and in quietness, to trust him. I know it seems paradoxical, nonsensical. But letting go of our own lives is actually the means to true freedom and peace. God, I confess that I’ve held so tightly to my own life that it is often painful. I don’t want to live this way anymore. I give my life to you. Quiet my soul with your nearness, soothe my worry with your faithfulness. I trust you.

It’s been more than a month since that mishap on my neighbor’s front porch. The foot is still healing, slowly. It wasn’t how I imagined spending the end of 2022. And yet, it was likely exactly how I needed to spend it. As a result, this new year comes with a little more strength.

What about you? How will you respond to our God’s invitation of repentance and rest, quietness and trust? A gentle word of warning: Watch your step. Choose your true Savior now, before you find yourself flat out on the ground. He’s strong enough to hold you.

 

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Peace When Everything Spins Out of Control

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It amazes me how quickly things can go south, snowballing from bad to worse, and I allow myself to become overwhelmed by it all. Recently I had such an experience on what was an otherwise grand day, my daughter’s 23rd birthday. It began with brunch for friends and family at a favorite bagel restaurant. Although our daughter was house-and-pet-sitting that week, she’d planned fun activities interspersed throughout the day; I would cover for her in the evening so she could stay out longer with her siblings and friends.

Late that afternoon, just before I left home to relieve her, I realized there was a problem with our plumbing: the toilets wouldn’t flush. I called and asked my husband to hurry home from work ASAP and check it out. A few minutes later as I pulled onto the highway, I heard an explosive sound and ducked. Scanning around me, I discovered a starburst crack with a tail trailing behind it at the edge of my windshield.

The plumbing situation turned out to be more than my DIY-savvy husband could handle. He called a plumber, but they couldn’t work us into the after-hours schedule; we would have to wait until morning. Though I spent a relaxing evening curled up with a book in front of a fire watching two little dogs for my daughter, it never left my mind that I would return to a house without plumbing and overnight lows near freezing. We hoped our gate code worked year-round for the bathrooms at our neighborhood pool.

Worry kept me from sleeping well. I found out what I was willing to do with a full bladder on a dark night in a private backyard. Once morning’s light — and soon after, the plumber — arrived, I made the mile drive to the pool, where our gate code did work. Hallelujah. 

While the plumber worked to blast out roots that had grown through our sewer line, three family members called me: one celebrating a deeply-desired success, one fearful of dire circumstances out of her control, and one wounded by another’s words. I rejoiced with one, helped another, and spoke truth to the last. Highest of highs and lowest of lows.

By the time the plumber left, I was exhausted and hungry. The nice young man who handed me a fast food salad couldn’t have known I was stretched so thin I felt like crying when I realized he sent me home with ranch instead of honey mustard dressing. Later I stood in the shower for a long time with my head bowed, letting the hot water run over me.

Occasionally I need a reminder that I have no idea what the people I encounter are going through. The world can turn upside down so quickly. It’s easy to judge others when we don’t know the situations they are facing. Can we ever truly understand another person’s circumstances? It’s no fun being on the receiving end of a day like the one I just experienced, but those days are lived out all around us. No one gets a pass: the pipes will burst, the doctor will call, the bills will arrive, and the words will be spoken. It’s just a matter of time.

Sometimes we stand in the middle of a whirlwind as everything spins out of control. The foundation shakes beneath us and we reach out, desperate for something to hold. Friends, when we reach for some thing we’re missing the point — for our hope is in some One, the person of Christ Jesus.

In John 14:27 Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” He gives us peace as a gift to ease our hearts and the Holy Spirit to remind us of it.

Jesus can bring peace to your mind when circumstances bring anxiety.

Jesus can bring calm in the morning after a troubled night.

Jesus can bring divine perspective when the world wounds us.

The next time your world unexpectedly spins out of control, remember Jesus’ words. Let the voice of the Holy Spirit within you anchor you to peace more firmly than the voice in your head pushes you toward despair.

 

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When You Don’t Know the Right Answer…

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I’m sitting in a coffee shop on a cool morning with my fingers wrapped around a warm cup of coffee. The air smells like nutmeg and the leaves outside are just starting to turn, signs of the season.

“I just want to know the right answer,” I say to my friend.

She nods in understanding. We are both in a time of not-knowing and it’s uncomfortable. We are checklist, color-inside-the-lines, follow-the-plan types. When life gets tricky, we read a book or listen to a podcast. We look for someone to tell us what to do. We are fans of clarity, certainty, of steady earth beneath our feet. But life doesn’t always work that way.

Lately I’ve been rewatching movies where I know the ending while creating art (I use that term loosely) in a color-by-number book. Because at the end of the day when it feels like I’m guessing all the time, I just want to know what I’m supposed to do and how everything is going to turn out.

Maybe you’re in this kind of season too. Perhaps a dream slipped out of your hands and shattered into a thousand shards at your feet. It could be that someone you thought would stay has chosen to go. The company might be doing lay-offs or your kids could be making inexplicable choices. Maybe the places that used to feel familiar — like church or your dinner table — now seem like a foreign land.

To be human is to live with uncertainty and change. So what are we to do? It seems the whisper of God to my heart in this season is this: Let go of how you think things are supposed to be. This is the gap we feel, isn’t it? We have expectations for how life will go, the ways people will behave, what the future will hold. We cling to those with clenched fists until our fingers and souls ache.

I remember sitting in a counselor’s office in my early twenties. She drew two parallel lines and pointed to the upper one. “These are your expectations, Holley.” Then she pointed to the lower line. “This is reality. Until you let go of your expectations, you’re always going to struggle.”

I didn’t like what she said then and I don’t like it now. But it has the ring of truth to it. Jesus said, “I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

In other words, here on earth our expectations aren’t going to be met. We’re not always going to find the right answer. We may not know what to do. But there’s a bigger reality that remains unchanging. There’s a God who is writing a story that isn’t finished yet.

It’s not a checklist.

It’s not a report.

It’s not a spreadsheet.

It’s a story.

And the best stories aren’t neat and tidy. They’re not predictable. Things don’t always turn out the way we thought they would. But we keep turning the pages because we believe the author is taking us somewhere good. We think we want certainty, but all the magic is in the mystery.

When I walked out of the coffee shop that day, I still wanted the right answer. I probably always will. But I’m discovering something else I want even more: The holy courage to embrace an untamed, beautiful story beyond my expectations.

Are you in a season of uncertainty that’s increasing your anxiety? Holley’s new devotional book, What Your Mind Needs for Anxious Moments, shares encouragement and truth to calm your heart along with practical strategies to help you keep moving forward. Download the first 3 devotions for FREE here.

 

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His Mercies Are New Every Four O’Clock

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Well, I am turning right onto I-77, the interstate road that will take me over the lake, and I like the way the water sparkles — like a mirror, always reflecting the light of the good sun.

I am listening to the radio but, really, I am not listening at all . . . because I am listening to the one thousand voices in my head going on and on about all the things that overwhelm. The emails left unchecked and the texts not answered. I think about the pills I forgot to take and the muscles I failed to stretch. Then, every trivial matter spirals into the deepest despair as I think about the body I cannot fix and the people I’ve let down. There’s the decisions I need to make about the kids and the guilt that comes uninvited.

There’s my marriage, my family, and trying to shoulder the weight of the world through the mere hours of work I clock in each week. I glance at the time. It’s only four o’clock, but I feel as tired and burdened as last-minute prayers at bedtime. In this moment, not a minute later, I need the kind of grace that can’t wait until kingdom come, can hardly wait until morning.

I need the fresh reminder of God’s mercy right now; I need the reminder that His love knows no bounds. Long gone are my teenage years, that raging age when I’d cry myself to sleep, unsure of God’s love and overwhelmed with the weight of life. Desperate to believe that God’s love was really for me, I’d cry my heart out just before sleep, only to wake up puffy-eyed and hoping the newness that I felt from waking to a new day was really God’s way of waking me to new mercies.

But, right here in the car, I think I’ve realized something that teenage me never did. Right here in my car with nothing mystical or magnificent happening — not even the circuit of the sun setting and rising that I rely on to fix the gaping need in my soul — I feel God and His presence and the promise of His steadfast mercy.

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
Lamentations 3:21-24

This is the passage of Scripture that carried me through my weary, teenage nights. The passage that got me through the anger and bitterness of my soul through my high school years — the actual affliction, the sense of wandering and lostness. I remember how these words held me with hope, how they traced truth, making hope glow like a light in the dark.

Looking back, I now see that God’s unfailing love didn’t just come to me every morning, it carried me through every night. His mercy was the breath in my lungs even though my body was weak. His mercy was love in my life even though I felt lost and alone. His mercy was a feast for my soul, sustaining me though I ached and starved for my life to change.

And if I held onto Him then, I could hold onto Him now, heavy-laden and heaving and all. I can hold onto Him this minute (and the next . . . and the next), never needing to hold out for the morning to wash me anew. I can recall His mercies to my mind now, right here in this car driving over the lake that sparkles with the light of the good sun.

I can walk through sorrow and sadness, the overwhelm of my soul. I can stand as my heart breaks, holding out hope for the fragility of it all — for the world and the ones I love. Though I weep, His mercies are new every morning. Though I carry the weight of sin in my soul and on my skin, His mercies are new every morning.

His mercies are new every four o’clock, too. And every two in the morning then, again, at two in the afternoon when it’s time to shuttle the kids across town. His mercies are new every millisecond, stretching wide and reaching deep to cover us for any reason . . . at any time, in any place.

 

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Let Prayer Guide Your New Year

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I call on you, my God, for you will answer me;
    turn your ear to me and hear my prayer.
Psalm 17:6 (NIV)

We are one week into the new year. One week into getting back into the groove of post-Christmas life. Perhaps one week of setting goals and making plans. Or maybe one week of wishing you could burry your head, ignore all the could’s or should’s, and just go back to bed. However you’re feeling on this eighth day of 2023, one thing we can agree is worthy of our attention is prayer.

Prayer is the invitation to an ongoing conversation with God. It’s how we get to know His heart and how we share ours with Him. Prayer helps turn our hearts from fixating on our own concerns to focusing on the goodness of God’s character. From wallowing to worshipping. Prayer is the opportunity to let our petitions lead us to praise. Because no matter the circumstances we face, Jesus, indeed, is worthy of our gratitude and praise.

So let’s take time to pause in prayer together. Share your heart in the comments and take a moment to pray for the woman who comments before you. What a beautiful gift that God promises to hear our prayers — and that as sisters in Christ, we can tenderly bear witness to those prayers as well. 

 

Accepting God’s Forgiveness Means Letting It Stay Finished

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For his unfailing love toward those who fear him is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth. He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him.
Psalm 103:11–13 (NLT)

The day I realized my children could empty the dishwasher was a game changer for me. This almost-daily chore was the bane of my existence, and, much like a child myself, I always put it off in favor of doing anything else. But now my girls could be responsible for putting away our clean dishes while I made dinner or finished up a work project, and it felt like a domestic miracle.

Of course, handing off this chore to my kids meant that I’d occasionally find dishes in the wrong spot—or go for a day or two without being able to find a dish I needed at all! And then there was the inevitable accident, when my youngest dropped a bowl on the kitchen floor. In a split second the ice cream bowl I had painted for my husband at a long-ago paint-your-own-pottery night shattered beyond repair.

Startled at the noise, both our heads snapped up as we stared at each other. Her eyes bounced between my face and the ceramic pieces at her feet as she visibly began to panic. “Mommy! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, Mommy! It slipped! I’m sorry! Ohhh, I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “What happened? Did something break? Are you okay?”

She told me that she’d dropped a bowl and that it was broken. I instructed her to stand still so she wouldn’t step on anything sharp. I told her that it was okay, that accidents happen. Then I walked into the kitchen to clean up the mess and realized which bowl had broken. When I saw that it was my one bowl that’s truly irreplaceable, I couldn’t hide my disappointment — which my daughter mistook as a sign that she was in trouble.

“I’m sorry . . .” The rush of apologies began once more, as she tripped over her own tongue, trying to make sure I knew how very sorry she felt. She told me again that it had slipped out of her hand, working so hard to convince me that she hadn’t broken the bowl on purpose, that she wasn’t being neglectful or irresponsible. And I told her again that it was okay, working hard to convince her that I wasn’t angry and that I knew these things just happen sometimes.

Round and round we went, her apologizing and me telling her it was okay, as I picked up shards of my pretty bowl and wrapped them up for the trash. For days she apologized and I forgave, nearly to the point of being annoying! As she finally accepted that she was forgiven (or simply forgot the incident), I realized that how she acted is how I often act when I’m the one who needs to apologize.

I do it to my friends and family when I’ve wronged them, whether it was intentional or as accidental as a little girl dropping a bowl on the kitchen floor. Over and over, I bring up my transgressions and express my deep remorse in an effort to assure them I recognize how badly I messed up.

I do this with the Lord too. As soon as I realize I’ve sinned against Him, I turn my eyes to His face — shocked, panicked, afraid of the consequences to come. I begin my apologies without taking more than a second or two to reflect on anything other than my regret (and my desire to avoid getting in trouble).

When I’m calm and reasonable, I know my heavenly Father reacts just like I did with my daughter and the broken bowl — compassionate, concerned for my well-being, and merciful. But in the moment I recognize my sin, I’m flooded with regret and fear and immediately begin working to earn His forgiveness.

But forgiveness doesn’t work that way. The Lord offers us mercy and pardons our sins not based on the vehemence of our apologies but because of the sacrifice Jesus made when He died for our sins. On the cross He said, “It is finished,” not, “Tell me again how sorry you are.”

Christ died for us. God forgives us. It is finished.

If you find yourself apologizing over and over, attempting to prove to God or to others just how remorseful you are, may I gently suggest you stop? Our heavenly Father has promised to remove our sin as far as the east is from the west. Believe in Him. Believe in His promise. And accept His forgiveness. Let it stay finished so you can live forgiven.

Heavenly Father, thank You for Your mercy. Thank You that I don’t have to beg for it but that You give it to me abundantly because of Christ. Forgive me for where I’ve gone wrong, and please help me trust Your forgiveness and rest in Your compassion toward me. In Jesus’s name, amen.

This article was written by Mary Carver, 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.

Can’t I Just Be Quiet Like the Other Girls?

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I’m not a stranger to loneliness. I understand the pain of being uninvited, yet those are feelings that most who know me would never guess I carried. They’d be shocked because they’ve made assumptions based on my extroverted personality type.

I’ve always been the girl who strikes up conversations with strangers in the grocery store, even as a young child. So when I started kindergarten, I was thrilled to meet new friends and hear their stories. Then my first progress report came home. A check mark indicated ‘lack of self-control’ with the teacher’s comment: “Jenny (my childhood nickname) needs to stop chatting with her neighbors.” And so, second-guessing who I was began. An endless cycle of wishing away how the Lord made me.

By the time I could actually pen New Year’s resolutions, my January list contained some form of “You’ll be more popular if you’d be like the quiet girls. Stop talking so much. Just don’t talk.”

As my identity took shape, my tender heart held on to my “lack of self-control” and failed to embrace the other remarks. The ones where the teachers observed, “Jenny is a friend to everyone. She always has a smile.” Those words didn’t matter. I saw myself as a talker and I didn’t like it.

Early on I identified this “character flaw” and was determined to stifle how God creatively fashioned me in a pursuit to be more introverted. I’d pray for wisdom before group interactions, but it always resembled something like, “Lord, let me not talk. Let me sit and be quiet.”

A few years ago I found my junior high diary buried deep in our attic. Time stood still as I leafed to a page that read, “I have totally changed my image. Now I am not Big Mouth Jenny, but much better.”

Much better? In comparison to what? I instantly felt transported back to my childhood bedroom. Crazy how our deep-rooted wounds can rear their heads at the most unlikely times.

But now I was ready to fight back. Don’t we all need to speak truth to our younger selves?

This is what I said to little Jenny and what I’d say to younger you, too:

Precious daughter of the most High God, when He created you in His image, He destined you to use your words for His glory. He cares about your heart and made no mistakes when He formed you. He certainly does not want you to spend emotional energy concerned with changing how He gifted and wired you.

This January’s lists and dreams have me praying through and resting in Psalm 139. Now I see through the seasoned lens of a fifty-something woman, and I write: “Lord, You search me and know every hidden crevice of my heart and personality. You uniquely created me and understand me more than anyone. Before my journey even began, You went into my future to prepare a way for my past. It’s such a breathtaking reminder that not one single detail of my life fails to pass through Your hands first.”

Yet, can I be honest, sisters? Even as God has grown me in embracing exactly how He crafted me, even as I intentionally praise God for His mindfulness of me . . . it’s still tempting to sometimes believe that I would be better off being a different version of me. 

I went out to dinner recently with some new friends who are knowledgeably trained in analyzing enneagram personality types. I found our conversation fascinating until a question got posed to the group, “What’s the personality type you have the most trouble with?” I became paralyzed when nearly everyone declared, “Sevens!” — the Enthusiast.

Can you guess? That’s my fun-loving, spontaneous, hospitality, people-person type who can sometimes have way too many distracted balls in the air. Sigh.

I awkwardly admitted to being an extroverted “7″, and they quickly reassured me, “Oh don’t worry, you’re different.” Yet for a moment, I slipped into my childhood shadows where I’d be less conspicuous.

I think of the saying, “The grass is always greener on the other side.” Extroverts wish they had more introverted tendencies, and introverts wished they were more extroverted. We shove ourselves into a box that doesn’t fit us, attempting to dress it up with a perfect bow so no one knows. We wrestle — a push and pull tension between accepting who God made us to be, and imparting grace to ourselves as we work on our flaws.

How we treat ourselves in the midst of our wrestling matters. Instead of telling myself, “Just be quiet like the other girls,” I remind myself, “Jen, listen more than you speak. When you do speak, speak with love and discernment. Speak boldly with passion and always anoint others with words of blessing and encouragement.”

I’ve witnessed decades of the Lord’s faithfulness as He continues to allow me to use my gift of words to reach the kingdom. When I struggle with junior high feelings, I remember that I am made in His image and living fully as God created me to be is worship lived out.

Just yesterday I received an email that said, “Jen, thank you for seeking me out today after you spoke. Your story resonates so much and you made me feel less alone.”

What a gift. He redeems it all. My wordiness, my loneliness, my self-control check marks are all for His glory.

Have you held onto childhood labels or personality traits that you’ve wished away for far too long? I’d be honored to kick them to the curb together in the comments.

 

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May This Be a Year of Ripening

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I was a bully as a child. I wasn’t the kind who kicked other kids around at recess or who intimidated others with my size. My bullying was quieter, more subtle. I threatened to end a friendship with a girl I called my best friend if she didn’t give me the prize she’d received in class. I was mean to my table partner and drew a line down the middle of our shared desk that he didn’t dare cross. I was bossy, a tattletale, and I tried to make belonging happen through coercion instead of love. 

If we met today, it would be hard for you to believe I was once like that. It’s even difficult for me to fathom it. Now, I am, to the best of my ability, gentle, attentive, and compassionate. I try to lead and live with kindness instead of commanding fear and expecting submission. I hold space for other people’s pain, their joy, their growth, and everything in between. It’s a wonder one can change so drastically in a lifetime.

But that’s what it took – a lifetime. It’s been decades since I was that elementary-aged bully, but the undoing of that behavior and working through my insecurity, my unhealthy need to people-please, my imbalanced approach to friendships required those years. I’ve hurt people, made mistakes, learned the same lessons again and again, and even now, as I begin my middle-aged years, there is more to uncover, shed, and understand for the first time or the millionth time. 

As a new year has begun, I’ve been reflecting on my younger self and all the unpleasant, imperfect versions of myself I used to be. I’m prone to berating and shaming those old selves out of embarrassment, but they are still me. I couldn’t have become who I am now without having lived as I had. This process reminds me of a persimmon. The astringent varieties of persimmons need time for their hard, tannic flesh to become soft and sweet. Whether hanging on a tree or lying on the counter, the persimmon will only become enjoyable to the taste when it’s gone through the internal work of ripening, as intended, with the passing of time. 

So I’m seeing the year ahead as another twelve months of ripening. I’m choosing to embrace who I’ve been and to show myself – and all my past selves – the grace I now so generously extend to others. From that place of love, I can approach whatever this year holds for me with openness and gentleness, with no hurry or rush. I don’t have to aim for radical transformation or massive success or even making the most of every possible opportunity set before me. Instead, I want the maturity that comes with the slow ripening of character and soul. I want wisdom and peace to mark my days. I want faithfulness to create a pleasing aroma from my life. I want to bring flourishing wherever I go, giving life to all the people I meet and the spaces I inhabit. 

Somehow in those childhood days of bullying, God began His good work in me, and He’s still up to that work today. And if you look at your own life, with all the paths you’ve taken, the ups and downs, the twists and turns, I wonder if you can see how He had started a good work in you too. As you make your plans and write down your goals, I pray you know that, yes, He cares for where you’re headed this year, but He’s been patiently, lovingly tending to your growth all along. May this be a year of ripening for you too. 

I am sure of this, that he who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
Philippians 1:6 (CSB)

 

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God’s Grace for You Will Never End

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I was the happiest graduate at my college graduation. I felt like a beam of light floating across the stage. . . because I almost didn’t make it there.

During the middle of my junior year, disease exploded into my life like a missile. I finished my senior year doing three semesters’ worth of work in two, with one half the amount of energy as my former self. I often couldn’t sit through class because of pain, and my roommates frequently had to cut my food for me at dinner or drive me across campus because walking was too hard. There were many days I didn’t think I’d make it to graduation, let alone be physically able to walk across the stage.

But I did.

And I made it there because others gave me enough grace to keep showing up, even when it was nearly too hard.

Professors gave me extensions on papers. Friends carried my books across campus when I couldn’t. My roommates rubbed my aching hands and back when I couldn’t stand another minute of pain. I endured because they embraced me. Weakness included.

We companion each other into courage.

We bless each other into believing that the brokenness we are carrying won’t keep us from beauty and bravery.

And we don’t stop needing that blessing, every time brokenness is weighing us down.

When I was in the throes of figuring out the story arc and content of my second book, a fellow author reached out to encourage me. She said a dear friend of their family’s was reading my first book and finding so much resonance within it, especially since she had just been diagnosed with one of the same autoimmune diseases as I have. Apparently Heather was curled up on their couch reading and couldn’t stop shouting, “I can’t believe she has the same disease as me!”

I instantly burst into tears when I got my friend’s text, because when I was Heather’s age, the pain of longing to meet someone else who was young and sick like me nearly tore me in two. I wrote the book she was reading, This Too Shall Last, so that others could feel the comfort I longed to receive: to hear and see that their stories mattered, that stories that include ongoing suffering can still be brimming with grace.

Seeing our own struggle reflected in someone else’s story can carve out space to be strong.

Hearing someone else acknowledge the heaviness of hard things can give us hope that the weight won’t crush us.

Because of Heather, I was feeling energized to keep writing, trusting the same solidarity that was strengthening me to keep showing up would strengthen my next book’s readers to do so as well.

Two years ago, the days leading up to my birthday were especially painful. The treatment for my disease was failing, and I needed insurance approval to try something new. Fear about my future capacity pinned me down in discouragement. One night, I begged God, “Please, renew my joy. Please, restore my hope.”

On my birthday, I opened up Instagram and saw that the same author friend who encouraged me was celebrating Heather’s college graduation that very day. The light I felt walking across my graduation stage lit up within me again because I saw it reflected in Heather’s face too.

“Heather,” I commented, “I know you don’t know me, but I want you to know the perseverance that brought you to today is beautiful. Soak in this joy. You made it. And you’ll keep making it. God’s grace for you will never end.”

Like news of impending victory for a war long fought, Heather’s perseverance seized me with hope. Witnessing the grace of God empowering another young woman to endure disease while seeking a career illuminated the grace that still surrounds me. Knowing that my friend and her family had supported Heather to be able to keep hoping expanded my hope that I will continue to be supported too.

Gratitude for grace was the light stretching across that graduation stage over a decade ago. And gratitude for grace was piercing my darkness yet again.

And now, two years later almost to the week, I’m finding myself heavy-hearted again. Just as I started recalling the story of Heather and renewed hope, another friend texted me, speaking into today’s struggle. She acknowledged the real challenges I am facing in this season, named that the grief is worthy of feeling and sharing, and even let me know my birthday gift should arrive Friday.

A pile of used tissues is cluttering up my desk and my shoulders are still a little slumped with sadness, but in my friend’s solidarity, I am sensing more space.

The compassion we give each other grows our capacity to be courageous yet again.

The grief and groans we witness in each other give us the grit to go on.

I think of Heather and I think of what is still hard, and I know grace is still here.

God’s grace for me will never end.

God’s grace for you will never end.

Need strength for your own small, hard moments? Borrow some from K.J.’s newest book, The Book of Common Courage: Prayers and Poems to Find Strength in Small Moments. It’s out on January 17th and available to order now.

 

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Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom

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As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.
John 15:9–11 (NIV)

We may want wisdom. We might genuinely want to obey God because we love Him. But what happens when His direction seems to go against the logic and trusted advice of our community? What should we do when there seems to be more than one right answer or multiple paths we could take? What about the times when we obey but life doesn’t work out the way we thought it would? What if obedience means giving up everything?

The Spirit will lead us to truth, and wisdom is obeying even if. Even if it doesn’t make logical sense. Even if it looks like foolishness to others. Even if God is the only one who keeps confirming the same thing over and over again. Will you take steps to say yes to God, to trust Him, even if?

When I was in pastoral ministry, I had no dreams or plans to leave my job. I felt called to the church where I worked. I was happy to be serving people I cared for and content living in a city I had fallen in love with. I was fully committed to the work God was doing there and was ready to settle down, raise my family, and live the rest of my life right where I was.

But about six years into it, God began to close that chapter — both my time in ministry and our life as we knew it. He was redirecting us back home. I sat with this quietly for a year, unsure of what to make of it and with no concrete plans of what we were supposed to do next. It not only seemed like foolishness, but it felt backwards. We were moving in with my in-laws to live in the home my husband grew up in.

But God brought up the same messages of home and family again and again through that year of seeking wisdom. And even though our ducks weren’t in a row before we moved, we knew in our gut that the timing was right, that God would be with us, and that He would show us each next step.

It’s been five years now, and though I’m not any clearer on a five-year plan, I’ve come to the point where I don’t need one anymore. God has again proven Himself trustworthy as always — through deep pits of depression, through painful moments in our marriage, and through the confusion of career changes for me and my husband.

Each yes has led to the next yes, and God’s wisdom, God’s Spirit, has been faithful to guide us in every “even if” and “even when.”

And now I understand what John 15:11 means: God’s joy has been in me, and my joy is full, complete — even if, even when.

What is something God is inviting you into that you need to obey?

LORD, help me reframe my idea of obedience from one of dread and doom to one of love and joy. Thank You for the guarantee that Your Spirit will lead me to truth and to wisdom. Even when I can’t see its worth, help me choose wisdom. Even if I look foolish to others, help me take steps toward saying yes to You. I want to experience the joy of obedience as I learn to become wise. Meet me where I am, God, and take me where You want me to be. Amen.

We all want and need wisdom, but how do we get it?

Meet Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom, the new (in)courage Bible study from DaySpring, written by Grace P. Cho and featuring stories from your favorite (in)courage writers.

When we’re in a relationship with a toxic person and need boundaries, when our churches are divided by theological differences, when we don’t know how to navigate unexpected difficulties, knowing what the right, good, or wise thing to do is difficult. So where do we begin?

If you’ve ever asked yourself these questions, this is the next study for you.

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

Our prayer is that this study will encourage you to seek the Lord and the wisdom He offers each one of us. Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom releases at the end of January, and we are SO excited to see how God will use it to speak to your heart. Sign up below to get a FREE full week of Bible study from Create in Me a Heart of Wisdom, and order your copy today!

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

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How to Handle an Impossible Task

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Sometimes, tasks seem impossible because they are overwhelmingly huge. The effort to do the thing is not possible for one person–or maybe even several. Those sorts of challenges feel insurmountable. But when it comes to simple tasks, those can feel impossible just because of the weight they carry in my heart.

My house is over 100 years old which means that it leans. I couldn’t tell you which direction because overall the house leans west, but some rooms seem to shift a bit to the north and my kitchen has a south-ish sort of slant to it. This is what happens when a house settles. And while that brings charm and the lack of pressure to have everything straight on a wall that might be crooked, it also means that furniture can only be arranged in so many patterns.

For example, my bed can only sit against one wall where my feet are a bit lower than my head because if I put it elsewhere, I’d be leaning a tad to the left or right and something tells me my chiropractor wouldn’t love that. I have, not surprisingly, entirely too many bookshelves in my home which makes moving things . . . heavy. But when I got a new-to-me chair that snugly fits in a corner of the house, I knew I needed to move most other pieces in that room to make space. For weeks, I avoided this task. I just let half of my bedroom sit like the cluttered attic in Jumanji. There was no other place to really put this oversized chair and the bookshelves without them leaning forward and all the books falling to the ground. Not ideal.

So I did what any grown woman would: I just froze and put it off, waiting for my house to magically level so I could put bookshelves anywhere I wanted without this concern. I was stuck in my own overwhelm, frustrated that my room felt out of sorts, but unable to gather the gumption to do the dang thing.

And then, my friend Shauna came over today for lunch and before she left, I asked her to help me figure out the puzzle of bedroom furniture because it’s all a riddle and nothing felt quite right. Shauna is kind and honest and she hmm’d and haww’d with me before making the suggestion of moving a bookshelf to a place it had never been. This was a ridiculous idea because of the whole books-falling-forward-to-the-ground problem. But then, I remembered that I had some little shingles of wood for leveling things out.

Together, we worked to move and level the shelf. I held it in place and Shauna helped adjust the thin pieces of wood beneath the shelf’s frame and suddenly, it worked. No falling books, no swaying or leaning. Just a level bookshelf that actually holds books because my friend saw a way to make it work. Amazing how an extra set of hands really does make work lighter.

Caught in my own perspective and overwhelm, I never would have chosen this arrangement. But with the help of a friend? I was able to adjust and move things to a better place and it helped turn my house into a home.

As a single gal, I often lack the perspective of another person in the day-to-day and it can feel lonely at times. But when Shauna was willing to enter the mess and help see a way to order the chaos, it was a sweet reminder of Ecclesiastes 4:9: “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor.” I’m sure she didn’t overthink this collaboration, she was just present in a moment that represented more than I let on. She was just…a friend willing to help.

Maybe you know someone who is struggling because they live alone. Perhaps they need someone to say, “Hey, how can I help you out this week? What can I offer in the way of little tasks that feel overwhelming?” Or maybe it’s a friend who has been stressed at work. What if you reached out and brought them a meal or said, “I’m at the store — need anything?” Small input goes a long way.

Two provides perspective. Two makes the task that felt a little impossible work. Two allows for leveling things out.

So as I sit in my comfy chair, I look at that bookshelf, nice and level (and a tad uphill from me) and I can see that if it weren’t for friendship, I would still be stuck. My room wouldn’t be as welcoming and I might still be feeling the weight of having to go it alone. But I know now that when I ask for help or offer it, I’m partaking in important community work. Doing things together is exactly how God wired us to live.

So thanks be to God for extra hands, old houses, and someone to help carry the load.

 

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As a New Year Begins

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Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.
The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV)

Even though we wish we could see all that is to come this year, let’s open our hands and trust God with the unknown and the new. His goodness, love, and faithfulness continue to be true for us.

May you feel peace knowing that you are a new creation in Christ, that He will renew your heart and offer new mercies every day. May you resist the pressure and temptation to fill up a blank calendar with lofty resolutions and appointments that will stretch you thin. May you remember that you are more than any goal met, any resolution kept, any to-do list checked. You are loved just as you are.

May you find rest in that truth.

A prayer for 2023:

Lord, there is so much ahead of us that we can’t foresee, so much we wish we could control but can’t. We hold all our questions, desires, and longings out to You. We want to trust You, but we acknowledge that we need help with that sometimes. Help us remember who we are, through the lens and truth of who You are. Thank You that we can be anchored in faith when we are tethered to You. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen. 

Happy New Year, friends!

No Matter What You’ve Faced This Year

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Because of the Lord’s faithful love we do not perish, for his mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness!
Lamentations 3:21-23 (CSB)

You made it to the end of the year. Because of God’s faithful love, you were not overcome. You did not perish. Today is the last day of this year, and tomorrow ushers in a whole new one along with God’s faithfulness to see us through it all.

No matter what you’ve faced this year, tomorrow is full of new mercies. Because of God’s grace and forgiveness, we are offered a new heart and a new spirit (Ezekiel 36:26-27). When we accept the gift of new life in Christ, God promises to give us a heart that is once again soft and a spirit that is open to His guiding.

As we close out this year, reflecting on all that has happened in the past 365 days, all the ways we’ve grown and struggled and loved and learned, let’s remember that a new day is coming. God will give us a new heart — as well as a new year.

Happy last day of 2022, friends. May your heart feel renewed, refreshed, and ready to welcome 2023.

What’s Your Word?

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I wonder if we’d be so gung-ho about New Year’s resolutions if January didn’t come so quickly after December. 

The holiday season, with all its fun and festivities and fa-la-las, also gives us obligations, stress, and bullet lists (and perhaps credit card bills) a mile long. After pushing ourselves to exhaustion or gorging ourselves on red and green candies (No, YOU ate an entire bag of peanut M&Ms in one day!), the idea of a new day, month, year is more than a breath of fresh air. It’s a gulp of oxygen as we feel ourselves drowning in year-end excess and (often unmet) expectations. 

I’m so desperate for a fresh slate, a new start, I get a little swoony over all things New Year’s resolutions. My knees feel weak at the thought of more check boxes, and I get a little breathless as I organize all my hopes and dreams and plans into the most perfect outline or spreadsheet you’ve ever seen. 

Yeah, it’s true. I totally get a crush on New Year’s resolutions, the bad boy of all goal-setting strategies, the one I swear off every year because he’ll just end up hurting me. That one. Yes, I fall for his charm (The possibilities! The potential!) every time. 

But before we start a list of all the many, many ways we’re going to be better, do more, work harder or smarter — or both! — this year, let’s take a time out. Let’s breathe in deep with our clean calendars and pretty paper journals, and let’s boil all our best intentions and goals and ambitions down a little. 

DaySpring’s Word of the Year helps me do just that.

DaySpring’s Word of the Year encourages us to forget the pressure of resolutions and instead, focus on just ONE word. The idea is that we focus on this one word every day, all year long — one word that sums up who we want to be or how we want to live. DaySpring’s Word of the Year is what snaps me out of my dreamy resolution fog and grounds me — not just in January but every month of the year. 

Whether I’m brainstorming writing topics and business ideas, pinning recipes to try and crafts to make, or identifying all the ways I need to try harder and be better, I can easily lose my mind in the more!-more!-more! approach to making my lists for January and beyond. I then can move towards the overwhelmed, I-can’t-possibly-do-any-of-this, I’m-going-to-hide-under-the-covers reaction to my lists in the face of reality. 

Focusing on just one word for the year keeps me centered, and it sets me up for a whole lot more success and satisfaction. Especially because when I force myself to funnel my hopes and goals for an entire year into a single word or phrase, I also force myself to focus on what truly matters and what will make an eternal difference in my life and the lives of those I care about. 

See? Way more satisfying than pretending like this is the year I’m going to start flossing every day. 

By Mary Carver, as featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

We’re excited to share with you a fun, EASY way to kick off your new year — the Word of The Year quiz from DaySpring! The simple questions will lead you to one word that will remind you of God’s truth all year long and inspire you to live your faith every day.

Click here to take the short quiz and find your word — nothing overwhelming about that! Once you have your word, download the graphic that goes with your word and share it on social media. Be sure to tag @incourage so we can cheer you on!

Then come back here and share your word in the comments, along with what it means to you. As an added bonus, we’re giving one lucky commenter* a $100 shopping spree to DaySpring.com!

Take the DaySpring Word of the Year quiz and let us help you discover who God is calling you to be in 2023!

Let’s lean in together. What’s your word?

 

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*Giveaway open until 1/4/23 at 11:59pm to US addresses only.

Three Powerful Declarations for Every Day in the New Year (starting now!)

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Do you have any idea where you were and what you woke up thinking about on New Year’s Day ten years ago? As implausible as it sounds, I remember well.

The day after Christmas, I had torn my meniscus, three seconds of blinding pain that would soon lead to surgery. Adding insult to injury, we had a new insurance policy that wouldn’t go into effect until six days later. My husband had resigned from his job that had given us a magical year in Germany, and three weeks without coverage hadn’t seemed like much of a risk at the time; up until that fateful moment, I hadn’t had a sick visit in years.

Our downstairs guest bedroom was a Godsend. Any movement at all was painful to my knee, so even the idea of climbing stairs to get to our bedroom almost made me cry.

It is likely that because of my pain and displacement, I remember exactly where I was and what I was thinking when I woke up on January 1, 2013 –

This is the year I turn 50.

My heart felt uncharacteristically desperate and needy. Our future had never been more uncertain. Though we were sure about Tad’s decision to leave his job, we didn’t yet know what our next move would be. And, with neither of us working at Christmas, it had been a very subdued holiday season. Except for family, we limited time with other people. Our circumstances felt too complicated to explain, but impossile to ignore. While I’m an open book, my husband is extremely private, and trying to pretend an elephant wasn’t in the room was exhausting.

My 50th birthday arrived with the likelihood we would be moving out of state. As well as I could, I battled the dread that companioned the idea of starting over again. At 40, we had also moved to a new state, but this time our oldest two would be in college and our youngest son wouldn’t have his siblings around to help navigate the challenges of moving. Back then, I had embraced the adventure and arrived in my new hometown with arms open wide. Now, I felt like I was failing my kid, and clouds of fear dampened my usually sunny disposition.

Scripture had taught me that fear wasn’t from God, and His promises became very personal:

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare
and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me
and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me,
when you seek me with all your heart.
Jeremiah 19:11-13 (ESV)

Trusting in God’s goodness and finding His Word to be trustworthy filled me with a confident expectation for my future. Keeping my attention on Jesus instead of the uncertainties in our lives helped to keep fear at a distance.

Over the last ten years, God has provided in ways that completely surprised me. Laid up in our guest room with a swollen knee and feeling the weight of half a century, it never occurred to me that our lives were about to get better. What a gift to see that through every joy and celebration or heartbreak and sorrow, God really is working all things together for good.

With 2023 just a few days away, you might guess what I’ve already been contemplating –

This is the year I turn 60!

It’s sobering to know you’ve celebrated more yesterdays than tomorrows. The wonderful thing about getting older, though, is all you’ve learned along the way. Job 12:12 teaches that “Wisdom is with the aged, And with long life comes understanding.” You don’t get to 60 without gaining priceless experience.

Though I’m not nursing a torn meniscus and facing a life-altering move, I am every bit as needy as I was ten years ago — but that doesn’t bother me like it used to. I’ve learned that my neediness is what God uses to draw me closer.

As the new year approaches, and to fight any fears associated with my milestone birthday, I’m declaring three things I know to be true:

Every day is an opportunity. One day = 24 hours. That’s 1,440 minutes, 86,400 moments. Our world is dark and broken, people are fighting battles; but we can make a difference — we get to make a difference — by the choices we make and how we treat others. Maybe today you can share the Gospel or meet a simple need. Every day brings opportunity to offer love and kindness in word or deed. I don’t want to miss the chance to reflect God in ordinary, everyday circumstances.

Age doesn’t define you, it refines you. Our experiences – good, bad, joyful, or tragic – shape us into the person we’re called to be. There’s no waste in the economy of God, and there’s no fast track for what we learn over time and through experience. The heartaches and hardships of our lives are holy opportunities for God to reveal Himself in ways we’d never otherwise see. That’s beautiful and hopeful. I want to embrace my age as the gift it is, not begrudge or apologize for it.

The Gospel changes everything. What is the misbelief, disbelief, or unbelief that blinds me? I want to see all of life through the lens of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection because it impacts how I view the world around me and how I respond. Knowing my sins are forgiven and I am made righteous in Christ gives me hope for today. Getting to know Jesus through His words, actions, and testimonies of His friends makes me want to follow Him. And, that He defeated death and is saving a place for me in eternity gives me peace amidst life’s chaos.

Fear and uncertainty can demand our attention, but I’ve found it helps to speak truth into my own heart and mind. These “declarations” are a start as I face a big year. What are you declaring for 2023 that might offer encouragement to others?

 

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