God Can Do Extraordinary Things with Our Ordinary Yeses

God Can Do Extraordinary Things with Our Ordinary Yeses

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Christmas is a really important season for many businesses both large and small. Sales from this time of the year can make or break the entire year. Then, on top of that, good ol’ social media adds to the pressure because it’s the way many businesses advertise, promote, and sell their products. Our inboxes and feeds are filled with it — especially in this season. So I’m not surprised it all sets my comparison into overdrive when it comes to my work as an artist.

I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself to others. I know better, and I really don’t want to. But if only it were that easy! Unfortunately, I still do because I’m human.

I see other amazing artists, talented creatives, and so many incredible business owners doing well — or at least what I perceive as them doing well — and at times, I can’t help but feel less than. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually really happy for them. I want them to do well, and I love being able to cheer them on with excitement from the sidelines. But that doesn’t stop my mind from comparing, from thinking they’re somehow doing everything better than me — better art, better ads, better marketing, better social media, better business.

I see them as having and doing more, and I can feel inadequate and somewhat capable. I worry I’m not doing enough or not working hard enough or not producing enough fruit. I feel like I’m lacking in some way — and well, I feel just real ordinary. Too ordinary.

Then, God, in His amazing ways, reminds me about ordinary. He reminds me of the most beautiful example of what ordinary can do. Mary, an ordinary girl, was asked to do the most extraordinary thing — to become the very mother of God. With a heart for Him and with one faith-filled yes, this ordinary girl changed the entire world.

We may feel ordinary. We may see our days and our lives as too mundane. We may feel that God cannot produce fruit through the little we feel like we have to offer. But God doesn’t see us that way. He doesn’t see us as lacking. He already sees us extraordinary. He sees us as a gift. He made us just as we are and uses everything we have to offer for His glory. He chose us to do His great work in both big and small ways, and it’s all important to Him.

God can take our faith-filled yes and multiply it in unimaginable ways.

I know deep down inside that I’m not defined by numbers and sales. I know I’m not defined by social media likes and followers. I have a purpose, and God has equipped me for it. So I continue to give my all to the One who chose me to do the work I do. I give my yes to Him — my heart-filled, faithful yes — again and again.

This Christmas season, may we follow the example of the ordinary girl who wanted what God wanted for her — a heart for Him. May we remember He will use our passion, our faithfulness, and our yeses to do extraordinary things and produce the most beautiful of fruit. And may we continue to say yes again and again!

I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.
John 15:5, 7-8 (NIV)

The Key to Walking Through Disappointments

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It was June and summer and lovely. Perfect weather. Flowers abloom. The pandemic easing. Colorado sunlight looked bright and shining and glorious. Then, I took a wrong step.

I leaped off the curb in front of my house and — pop! — twisted my right foot and ankle. I sunk to the ground, knowing from past injuries to that same ankle that I was in for a long road to healing.

Oh, little did I know. Before the week was out, that same foot developed gout. Yep, gout — a condition I rarely mention because it’s still wrongly associated with only eating rich foods, which isn’t what causes it. Now, doctors know other causes, including genetics, dehydration, stress, and the list goes on.

Either way, my poor foot — for week after painful week — remained inflamed, swollen, and tender. Finally, after two long months, with summer now waning, I was able to walk without pain and get back into regular shoes. I rejoiced, indeed, to arrive finally at the end of a long but merciful recovery. But what did I learn during this trial?

Seeking God’s Word for insight, I was surprised by His answer: Remember Me.

For the problem? No, but to remember God for His merciful help during all the times that are good and that our well-being comes from Him. Thus, during tough times, it’s encouraging and healing to remember that He is the One who delivers us.

That, I learned, is a victorious way to walk during life’s pains, disappointments, and upheavals. Instead of walking with our focus on the problem, we walk, remembering the God who overcomes them. We recall who God is and the depth of His power. We remember the possibility of His healing and the kindness of His grace. We recount the glory of His promises and when and how He has delivered us in the past.

During the months of healing, I made a mental list, remembering the times that the Lord had turned seeming defeats into merciful victories. But why? To remember that this was for His glory.

That’s why Hezekiah asked for war victory: “Now, Lord our God, deliver us . . . so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, Lord, as the only God” (Isaiah 37:20). Moses taught that lesson to the children of Israel as he prepared them to live in obedience and victory in the Promised land: “Remember how the Lord your God led you through the wilderness . . . For all these forty years your clothes didn’t wear out, and our feet didn’t blister or swell (Deuteronomy 8:2,4). Further, Moses said, “Obey the commands of the Lord your God by walking in his ways and fearing him,” (Deuteronomy 8:6). Then, during better days, “be sure to praise the Lord your God” for carrying you there (verse 10).

A wilderness experience can stir up such remembrance if we allow it, turning our attention from what we’re going through to God’s ability to deliver us from even the worst of it.

My trial time, otherwise, would have been a loss. Wiggling my toes gratefully now, I might wrongly say “I have achieved this (well-being) with my own strength and energy” (Deuteronomy 8:17). Instead, in my wilderness, I got a fresh lesson in walking humbly before God, remembering Him every step of the way — recalling that our well-being always comes from Him. Then, we walk humbly with him.

So, I get up and walk to church. I walk outside to sit in the sunshine. I walk into a photo studio to take an updated photo — smiling wide in it — instead of cancelling my appointment. I recall that in Christ, we can make it through our bad times, disappointments, ankle sprains, a pandemic, and more. Never forgetting who He is, we get up to walk with the One who always goes before us. Then, in Him, with Him, we never walk alone.

The God Who Crosses Waters Goes the Distance with You

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From the Mediterranean Sea to the South China Sea to the Irish Sea, the majority of my ancestors lived by the water. I have always identified with coastlines, and as a lifelong East Coaster, I have always felt like my nearness to water drew me near to those who have come before me.

It’s easy to feel distant. As a person of mixed-race, I don’t like to think about meeting my ancestors. It’s not that I don’t want to know who I came from, but I can’t imagine what they’d think of me. Would I look alien to them?

These thoughts are fruitless at best, harmful at worst. They imply that familiar is inherently better, and they underplay the stark beauty of change, of growth, and of new life.

The water provides a better framework. Instead of reminding me of the distance from my predecessors, the water symbolizes our proximity, our sameness. It is common to us all.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to visit the Mediterranean. From the coastline of Cassis, France, I fell in love with the dynamic blue and green of the water — in such contrast to the flat, nearly grey Atlantic next to which I grew up. And as I walked into the water, I relished in the idea that my Italian ancestors had touched the same sea. A little over a century ago, my great-grandparents would leave the port of Elena, Italy, and arrive in Boston, MA — my home.

I cannot count how many family members had to cross oceans for me to exist. My own father flew across the world for me, and almost every generation up of my family had members immigrating to the U.S. for as far back as I know. The more my mother researches, the more immigrants we find. None of them knew they were in part coming for me, but here I am: the unexpected, the future, the now.

This is God’s heart for me. I am worth centuries of crossing oceans. I am worth every surprise to my ancestors. I am worth God’s love throughout generations.

God has been in the business of crossing waters for much longer than I can trace back my lineage. I remember that, in a body of water not too far from the Mediterranean, He parted the Jordan River for the Israelites to cross into the Promised Land (Joshua 3). What seemed like insurmountable distance was nothing for God’s mighty hand. In the same way, He brought my people across waters, across earth, in a show of great faithfulness and intention. All the while, I was on His mind.

It’s easy to feel distant from the past, but God has gone the distance with me. In every single journey, past, present, and future, He has remembered me. He has looked forward to me. He has made extravagant plans for me. There hasn’t been a moment that the Lord has forgotten me, and there never will be.

This is my prayer for you. I pray that as you read this, and for every moment of your life going forward, that you would feel close to the heart of God, that you would feel like He has gone the distance with you and that He will never leave you. You are worth crossing oceans for.

It doesn’t matter what my ancestors would’ve thought of me — not in comparison to what God thinks of me and how He’s loved me generations before I was born. He has accepted me into His family. Now when I look out into the waters, I still think of my ancestors and how they crossed seas for me, but I also think about how the same God who made the seas and who crossed them with my ancestors, now anchors me.

Courageous Kindness for the Long Haul

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It’s time for Bible Study Monday! We are thrilled to go through our newest Bible study, Courageous Kindness, right here with you. Each Monday we provide the reading assignment, a discussion video featuring three (in)courage writers, a quote of the week, reflection questions, and a prayer. All you need is your copy of Courageous Kindness and an open heart, and we’ll take care of the rest!

Let’s start Week 5, which explores the impact of offering kindness for the long haul.

Reading Assignment

This week, read Week 5: For the Long Haul, on pages 159-194 in Courageous Kindness. Grab your copy and start reading!

Discussion Video

Three (in)courage writers invite us into their conversations about Courageous Kindness! Join study author Becky Keife alongside Grace P. Cho and Lucretia Berry each week as they discuss the readings. Listen in on their conversation about Week 5 (and find all the weekly videos here):

Quote of the Week

Keep this quote in mind as you read Week 5:

We too have the opportunity (and responsibility) to look for ways to invest in others.

– Becky Keife in Courageous Kindness. Feel free to download this quote to share with a friend!

Reflection Questions

In the comments below, answer and discuss the following reflection questions:

  1. Has a friend ever gifted you time or service over the long haul?
  2. How has long-haul kindness helped you see more of God?

Let’s Pray Together

Oh Jesus, what a friend I have in You. Thank You for reminding me of Your love and loyalty through the pages of Scripture and the stories in my own life. Help me to follow Your example of loving others well. Empower me today to live a life of courageous kindness for the long haul. Amen.

Click here to get a FREE week from each of our four Courageous Bible Studies and get free leader resources! Also, tune in each Thursday for a new episode of the (in)courage podcast and hear from (in)courage team members Anna and Joy, and writers Becky, Lucretia, and Grace as they all go through the study right alongside you. Listen wherever you stream podcasts (and find all the episodes here!)

Answer the reflection questions in the comments so we can discuss Week 5 together, and we’ll see you back here next Monday to begin Week 6 (our last one of this study)!

A Squirrelly Lesson on the Necessity of Living by God’s Rhythm

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As a creative, I am easily distractible. Anytime there’s a squirrel, I am captivated. It makes no difference if it’s a shiny new idea or a literal bushy-tailed creature.

You see, there’s a pair of grey squirrels (I’m calling them Laverne and Shirley) who have been playing on my driveway. The other day, from the time I sat down at my computer in the morning until I sent off my last email late in the afternoon, these two cuties spent their day running from the side of our mountain to the swing in our garden, back and forth, back and forth across our gravel driveway. They jumped up on logs, ran in circles, and looked like they were having the most wonderful time. (And yes, I may have sung “Squirrels Just Wanna to Have Fun” a few times while watching them.)

But the ding on my laptop would bring me back to reality. People were waiting on me. I had an article due, an over-stuffed email box that needed attention, and a chapter my editor was kind of patiently waiting on — and those were just the things at the top of my to-do list.

A lot of people relied on me to get my work done so they could get their work done, and I was falling further and further behind.

I’ve spent the last couple weeks telling myself the same things I always tell myself when I’m so far behind:

I work better under pressure.

If it weren’t for the last minute, I wouldn’t get anything done.

I’m more creative with a fast-approaching deadline . . . 

But really? These are just the things I say to justify what has gotten me here — procrastination.

When work is hard, like writing, planning, and deciding, it feels better to work on easy things than to start to untangle the hard, the complicated, or anything requiring a decision.

In another bout of procrastination (because I truly am an expert), I went out to the swing in our garden to see why the squirrels were so interested. I got down on my hands and knees to get a better look. They had dug dozens and dozens of tiny holes in the ground.

I knew I should’ve been working, but suddenly, my life could not move forward without understanding the habits of a California grey squirrel.

It took me way too long (and a lot more distracted time Googling) to realize what looked like squirrel play time was actually our local squirrels prepping for winter. They were gathering nuts and seeds from all our trees and hiding them in holes for when the snow comes. These squirrels, long before they are in need, were storing their winter food.

Now, they are no longer running back and forth across my driveway. They are off doing other squirrel things. They did their work, in plenty of time. Every day, all day, those squirrels were working hard. They stored up what they will need, and they are ready to take care of those around them.

They recognized and respected the rhythm of their lives.

Did God send me squirrels to remind me about having a rhythm for my life?

I honestly came to believe the only way I could be productive was to be pressed up against a hard deadline. I would wait until the last minute and then overwork myself trying to deliver so no one would be mad at me.

I work hard to try to get ahead, but my natural instincts tempt me to do the fun stuff first and leave the hard stuff until last minute. I work well under pressure. And it’s not a problem — until it is.

While I get things done (because I am a people pleaser and don’t want anyone to think less of me), I end up not being a great human to live with. (You don’t need to ask my husband. You can take my word for it.)

Constantly scrambling right up to the deadline is such a shaming way to live. The only reason I’m working so hard, staying up late, and checking things off is fear. On one hand, I tell myself, “I’ve got to get this done so no one will be disappointed in me.” While on the other hand, I look out the window at Laverne and Shirley, thinking, “Wouldn’t it be great to just be a squirrel. Not a care in the world.”

God has established a rhythm. For you. For me. For the squirrels. Even for the ants.

Proverbs 6:6-8 (NIV) says:

Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!
It has no commander, no overseer or ruler,
yet it stores its provisions in summer
and gathers its food at harvest.

Despite having “no commander, no overseer or ruler,” this little creature — like the squirrels — is doing the right thing because they know it’s the right thing.

God has set out a rhythm for us — to plan, work, rest, worship, and connect. But when we’re constantly behind, we only focus on the work and all the other good things get ignored. Thank God He uses ants and squirrels to remind us of what is important! Our lives can be full of productivity and peace when we recognize and respect the rhythm God has set before us.

You can pre-order your copy of Kathi’s latest devotional, An Abundant Place, and you will receive her downloadable journal. The journal includes some tools to help you get the most out of your Bible study time and offers some tips on how to create mini-retreats in your own home.

Letting Go and Welcoming This Advent Season

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The angel replied, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the baby to be born will be holy, and he will be called the Son of God.”
Luke 1:35 (NLT)

A couple years ago, my mother gave me an ornament that read, God rest ye merry gentlemen . . . the women are too busy!

I keep that ornament up all year long by my desk. It makes me laugh because it’s so true!

As women, it seems that the joy of the holidays often falls on us to create. Some of us just got done with holiday merrymaking last week with Thanksgiving, and today we dive headfirst into the Advent season. Women tend to be the glue that holds family together, purchasing the perfect gifts and wrapping them, coordinating everyone’s schedules and activities, remembering church commitments, writing the Christmas cards, lighting the candles, planning the meals . . . and the question is, when do we enjoy our silent nights?

We don’t want to remove anything from our to-do lists, and friends, that is really okay. The items on our lists are there for a reason, and especially after the last few years we’ve had, it’s fine for the tasks to stay. Often, keeping and completing them means that the people we love will have a beautiful holiday season — even if it means we burn our candle at both ends to make it happen.

But sometimes, it’s simply too much.

In addition to the usual holiday festivities, two of my kids have birthdays in November and December. This adds a couple more major events to keep track of during an already full season. One year, my brain and task lists were over full, and it was just too much for me to think about sending Christmas cards.

Before then, I’d never missed a year of sending cards out. I love cards. I have a Christmas card spreadsheet (which, if you know me, is completely unsurprising.) Even when I had each of my holiday season babies — my daughter right before Thanksgiving and my son right before Christmas — I managed to send out Christmas cards. I mean, they doubled as birth announcements and went out after New Years, but technically I got them done!

But that one year, everything just felt like too much. So I didn’t do cards — even though we had great updates for a Christmas letter and we had new family pictures. And you know what? I didn’t even really miss them. I wasn’t upset or disappointed, and neither was anyone else. Taking the cards off my list freed up time, money, and brain space, and it was absolutely the best choice for me. The late nights I would’ve spent addressing, stamping, stuffing, and sealing envelopes, I popped popcorn and watched a cheesy holiday movie in front of the fireplace. I used the time I would’ve spent scrolling card options online to wrap gifts, setting them under the tree nice and early. And the money I would’ve spent on beautiful cards and stamps, I spent instead on a few extra gifts for our church angel tree.

Then the next year when my brain and schedule were clearer, I sent the cards again, and I did so with joy — largely due to the break I’d taken the prior year.

Friends, as we enter the season of Advent today, I ask you: What do we need to take off our plates in order to let our hearts breathe?

When do we pause to enjoy this time of Advent?

What must we loosen from our grasp so that we may instead grasp that which makes Christmas what it is — a birthday celebration of the highest importance for a baby born holy? Is it the cards or the annual open house we host? Is it bringing two dozen homemade cookies to the preschool pageant or traveling out of state for the holidays?

Whatever your “it” is, you can let it go for a season. You have permission to break tradition in order to maintain your focus. Taking a breather doesn’t mean you’ll never do “it” again. Taking a breather simply means you’re making space for what matters most, living into your top priorities, and taking time to breathe. Rest. Enjoy. Remember the reason for the celebration.

Let’s only keep the things that matter most on the list and let go of all the rest.

Lord, above all, we praise You. This is first and the best way to prioritize — to think on what brings You praise and glory. The rest can fall to the wayside. We love You first, Lord. Help us loosen our grip so that we may grasp Your hands. Amen.

For more Advent devotions from Anna, subscribe to her mini-podcast: Seven Moments of Christmas. Starting December 1st, each episode will include Scripture, a devotion, practice, and prayer, all taken from her book A Moment of Christmas: 25 December Devotions for Moms. Stream Anna’s podcast episodes on Apple and Spotify!

That Time Jesus Restored My Vision

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The morning after I had hip surgery, my husband gotme set up on the couch with water, breakfast, ice, and my meds. I was so thankful the anesthesia hadn’t made me actively queasy (if you know what I mean). I was groggy but my pain levels were well managed. I was ready to put months of discomfort and limitations behind me and start this road to recovery!

As I slowly ate a piece of sourdough toast, I grabbed my phone to answer some text messages. But I couldn’t read anything on the screen. I must still be pretty out of it and forgot to put on my glasses. I was about to ask one of my kids to bring them to me, when I realized I was wearing my glasses. Were they smudgy? Ultra dirty? I cleaned the lenses with my shirt and tried again. I still couldn’t see.

Something was wrong.

I took my glasses off, and I could kinda sorta make out the words on my phone. I looked up, and I couldn’t see across the room. Glasses back on and I could see a short distance away, but it wasn’t crisp like normal. I glanced down, and my head started spinning. Something was definitely wrong with my vision.

Turns out, I may not have puked coming out of the anesthesia, but I was suffering a much rarer, more severe side effect. I had pictured being laid up on the couch as the perfect opportunity to relax and work. I could catch up on emails, make progress on a writing project, read a novel, and watch movies with my family. Except all those things required being able to see.

My ability to calibrate between seeing near and far was seriously off. I typically wear glasses or contacts full-time, but now they only made my vision worse. The lack of visual clarity was creating waves of low-grade nausea and a piercing headache.

As each day passed, I was getting more behind on work, feeling less rested, and more anxious.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was struggling. Big time. My doctor had said that the disturbance to my vision should wear off in a few days. But now that I was facing day six of a massive headache and nonstop nauseous, on top of the regular recovery stuff, I was feeling severely discouraged.

I had told a few friends what was going on, but as I rubbed my throbbing temples and steadied myself against the kitchen counter, I knew I needed to reach out for more help. I blinked hard and tapped out a prayer request on Instagram along with an offer to pray. Surely I wasn’t the only one suffering. Admitting my place of need and making space for others to share theirs felt like a good step forward.

The next morning my husband asked if I felt up for going to church. “No, but I want to go anyway,” I told him.

When you’re feeling terrible, there is something helpful about putting on pants with a button and a little makeup and hobbling outside your four walls. Plus, my heart needed to worship. I needed to stop thinking about what was out of whack with my body and start focusing on what was right and steady with God.

As soon as the first worship song started to play, a lump rose in my throat. A lump of weariness for the long road of injury and healing. A lump of gratitude for all the ways friends and family had stepped in to care for me and my guys. A lump of tension because it’s hard to be a doer sidelined from doing.

My leg started to ache from standing, so I sat. Closed my eyes. Opened my hands. It was then that the worship team started to play “Tremble.”

Jesus, Jesus, You make the darkness tremble
Jesus, Jesus, You silence fear
Jesus, Jesus, You make the darkness tremble
Jesus, Jesus

Tears slid down my cheeks as I silently named all my fears.

Jesus, I’m afraid my vision is going to be permanently altered. I’m afraid this headache and dizziness will prevent me from doing my job this week. I’m afraid I’m falling behind. I’m afraid I’m failing.

In my mind’s eye, I saw Jesus’s hands wrapping around each fear. My eyes were still closed, but I felt the light rushing in. I was surrounded by people, but it was like Jesus and I were the only ones there.

Jesus, I’m afraid, but I trust you. Jesus, I surrender these fears to you. I don’t want to hold them anymore. I release today and tomorrow into your hands. You hold it all anyway. Jesus, Jesus. Jesus, Jesus. I love you. I receive Your love.  

The song ended, and the pastor took the stage. I hadn’t brought my Bible like I normally did — crutches make carrying things tricky. So I pulled out my phone, clicked on the Bible app, and brought up the passage. I started reading along. Then I realized I was reading along! With my glasses on! I looked up at the screen and I could see. I took my glasses off and everything was fuzzy — like it used to be! I put them back on and read the paper bulletin in my hands and looked up and could see a friend on the other side of the sanctuary.

I turned to my husband. “I can see!” I whispered.

“What?”

“I can read my phone! And I can see far away. My vision is restored!”

Now the only thing blurring my eyes were tears of awe and gratitude.

Friends, I know God doesn’t always bring physical healing. I know you might have asked people to pray for your restoration and the answer you’re hoping for hasn’t come. I don’t know why God chose to meet me in that moment and make my sight clear. More than a decade ago, God led me to adopt Psalm 9:1 as my life verse. It says, “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.”

So, today, I am delighted to tell you of His wonderful deed for me. Today, I am thankful to the Lord.

The one thing I do know is this: Jesus makes the darkness tremble. There is no valley too dark or pit too deep for the redemptive love of God to reach. You do not have to carry your burdens and fears alone. Jesus is with you. Jesus is with you.

Jesus is with you.

Ten Ways to Be the Merry

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“Bring it on!” — that’s what I say to the Christmas season. Bring on the fun, the gifts, the food, the baking, the music, the movies. Bring on the merry! I love Christmas, but you know that.

As a little girl, I could hardly wait for Christmas to arrive. When you’re a kid, the longest and slowest days happen between Thanksgiving and December 25th. Now, as a grown-up girl, Christmas seems to come faster and faster.

A few years ago I made a decision to press pause on the last two weeks of December. I decided to hustle fast the first two weeks and spend the rest of December on the merry. My work rhythm gives me that opportunity (My work is feast or famine — no in-between) though I know most of the world has a steady, even workflow. Even so, there is a way to pause in December. It might not look like two weeks, but it can look like rest. 

You might be thinking, Rest? Now wait a minute, the title of this article looks like a list of ten things to do. Oh, don’t be fooled. These Ten Ways to Be the Merry are about being, not doing. Being takes some doing but not as much as doing takes. Confused? Perfect! Let’s go!

Remember, sometimes the way to bring the merry is to be the merry.

10 Ways to Be the Merry

  1. Rest. Did you know that resting, getting enough sleep, and taking short breaks during the day makes you more productive? Activity and productivity are not the same. Running from thing to thing is busyness and brings no guarantee of accomplishment. Take a few minutes to be still.
  2. Breathe. Well of course you do this all day every day, but intentional breathing is different. Being mindful of the breaths you take can slow you down, reduce stress, and help you make better decisions. So set a timer and take a few deep breaths each day. Four counts in, four counts out. Breathe to be calm.
  3. Stop. Shut down your work before dinner. I guarantee it will all be there in the morning. Shut down social after dinner. I promise you won’t miss what you don’t see. Unplugging makes being present possible. Spend those moments each evening being there for friends, family, and maybe even your fur-friend. Stop to be present.
  4. Write. Write down everything you are grateful for. Remember the little things and the things we tend to take for granted. Add them up as you write them down. Gratitude is a great way to reset a hard day or top off a great day. Write out your thankfulness to be mindful.
  5. Splurge. Take time to treat yourself to a long hot bath, a matcha tea, a massage, a brisk walk, or those boots you’ve been eyeing. It’s okay to get yourself a gift and to take a little bit of time, just for you. Treat yourself to be pampered.
  6. Share. Tell each other stories of Christmases past. What was your biggest surprise? What was the craziest gift you’ve ever gotten or given? What have you always loved about the season? Ask others these same questions. Reminisce to be nostalgic.
  7. Dance. Host a dance party of one. Sing along to your favorite Christmas song with a hairbrush in hand and DANCE IT OUT. Get your friend or family to join in. Let loose to be silly.
  8. Create. Everyone is creative because we are all created in the image of the Creator. Creativity looks different for each of us. You might knit, cook, write, style outfits, paint, or imagine everything you read in that novel.  Well, you get the picture. Express your creativity to be creative.
  9. Choose. Joy is a choice and not so much a state of mind as it is a state of the heart. Joy brings a peacefulness even in difficult circumstances. Joy comes from a heart set on the eternal. Choose joy to be joyful.
  10. Be. Did you know that you are one of a kind? Everything about you was designed. You are exactly who you are intended to be. You are loved deeply by the Father. You have a purpose and a role to play in this amazing love story. Be that. Be the created. Be you. After all, if you aren’t you, who will be?

One last thing. I know I said ten, but I have to add number eleven because it really is number one. Don’t forget Jesus at Christmas. It really is very easy to do. Our world is loud and demanding and rarely applauds silence, solitude, and reflection, yet this is what we all desperately need. We need it every day. So, in all the hubbub of the season, carve a little time for you and carve a larger slice of time for Jesus.

Candace Cameron Bure for DaySpring

We love these words from Candace Cameron Bure! She really is the queen of Christmas! And guess what? To help you welcome the Christmas season, we’re giving away FIVE copies of Candace’s new devotional, Bring On the Merry! Leave a comment below with one of the ways you rest during a busy season, and we’ll draw five winners.

Today only, you can save 50% on Candace’s Jesus Every Day devotional guides. These are beautiful, inspiring, and sure to help you engage with the Bible to discover the life-changing power of God’s love. You’ll also find tons of other beautiful gifts while you browse at DaySpring — and use code FRIDAY to save 30% sitewide through 11/28!! Some exclusions apply.

Then tune in on Sunday 11/28, when (in)courage friends Mary Carver and Anna E. Rendell host their annual watch-along party on the DaySpring Facebook page! As you watch Candace’s new movie premiering on the Hallmark Channel (starting at 6/7 central), Anna and Mary will post trivia and discussion questions, and have tons of giveaways and prizes, all on Facebook!

No matter how you start your Christmas season, we pray you’re able to rest, be merry, and keep your focus on Jesus.

 

*Giveaway open to US addresses and will close at 11:59pm on 11/28/21.

We Are Thankful for YOU!

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Let the whole earth shout triumphantly to the Lord!
Serve the Lord with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs.
Acknowledge that the Lord is God.
He made us, and we are his—
his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him and bless his name.
For the Lord is good, and his faithful love endures forever;
his faithfulness, through all generations.
Psalm 100 (CSB)

A posture of gratitude can shift our perspective and our hearts to see God in the present moment. In suffering pain and grief, in dealing with annoyances and inconveniences, in waiting for hope and good news, we can practice being thankful. This seemingly trite exercise has the power to change our groans to praise and to make us aware of God, who is always with us.

Practicing gratitude can look like writing down a list of things you’re grateful for — the beauty of fall, the laughter of children, the gathering of family — or it can be a list of things God has done in the past that you want to remember again. It can be bullet points of God’s promises that you’re clinging onto in the thick of things or how you see God working in those around you. Whatever it is, write it down today or say it — in a journal, on a post-it, or even in the comments below.

And on a day set aside for counting blessings, we want you to know we are so very thankful for you.

Those of us working behind the scenes of (in)courage and those of us sharing our words and our stories never once take it for granted that you show up in this place, inviting us into your inboxes and your lives, sharing your own stories and hearts. Thank you for being part of this community.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!

Episode 18: Turkey Talk, Compassion, and Inconvenience

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Welcome to the (in)courage podcast! Today, listen in as (in)courage and DaySpring team members Anna and Joy  share stories from Thanksgivings past, discuss the story where Jesus feeds thousands of people with just seven loaves and fishes, and the ways in which kindness can look a lot like inconvenience (in a really good way).

You’ll also hear an excerpt of the Bible study from special guest Aliza Latta! She reads her very timely story of a Thanksgiving she won’t forget from Week 4 of the Courageous Kindness Bible Study, which you can also read here.

Finally, hear a selection from the Bible Study companion videos! These video discussions feature (in)courage writers Lucretia Berry and Grace P. Cho alongside study author Becky Keife, and they offer us a seat beside them in the living room as they go through Courageous Kindness together. Watch the videos in full anytime.

We hope you’ll also join the discussion in our online Bible study right here! We’re going through Courageous Kindness both on the podcast AND as an online community, and you’re invited to both. Join us!

Listen to today’s episode below or wherever you stream podcasts! Subscribe to the (in)courage podcast so you don’t miss a single episode! And pick up your copy of the Courageous Kindness Bible study from DaySpring.com, and be sure to use code PODCAST25 to save 25% and get free shipping on your copy.

My Honest Confession: I Want People to Love Me

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I stood in line at the grocery store. Intentionally, I’d left my phone in my pocket even though it whispered how easily it could resolve my anxiety. A tap, a slight scroll, a text could get me through the awkward waiting, but I resisted. I didn’t want to be that girl who escaped into her own private world. I wanted to be present. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at the young kids swarming around in the shopping cart with their unopened treats. I looked at their mother. She looked tired. I could see it in the way her shoulders hunched forward and her eyes glazed over. I smiled at her too. That connection made her straighten up. She smiled back with a “you understand” nod. At the checkout counter, I chatted about the day. I asked the young man, “What are you really passionate about?” It felt risky to ask such an elaborate question in our three-minute interaction, but I did. His body shifted. “I want to be a chiropractor,” he said and shared briefly about his night classes and balancing a busy schedule. I left the store with bags full of food and a full heart. I did it. I loved them.

Then my next thought came in as quiet as a teenager sneaking in late — People love me.

I wish I could say this was the first time a thought like that crept in the back door of my mind. But it was not. I hear this often. I seek it out often. I want it always. I want strangers to love me.

This isn’t a “I want people to love Christ in me” kind of love. No, I want them to love me. It’s weird saying that out loud, embarrassing almost. But it’s true. It’s also true that I want to love others. I want to be the woman at the grocery store who’s nice to the baggers. I want to connect with the struggling mom and give her encouragement. I want that, but I also want people to see me loving others. If I love someone, that’s good. But if other people see me love — well, that’s even better. I find such consolation in the affirmation eyes of others.

I wonder what it would be like to love without being seen. Loving to be seen is such a temptation. My heart is hungry to be noticed, adored, wanted, praised. If my soul had eyes, you would see me always searching for another hit of love from a friend but also a stranger. I want more and more of it. I am never satisfied.

It’s exhausting living in such a way that I need more. Yet, I know more will never give me the enough I need. I want to love the way Jesus invites us to love in the Beatitudes. Matthew 6:3 says, “ . . . do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing . . . ” If I’m honest, I know what my right hand is always doing, and I secretly want it to be publicized for everyone to see on the nightly news.

My love lacks a purity to it. I don’t love for love’s sake. I love for my sake. And though I could really get sucked down into a heap of grief, shame, and pride right about now, I think there is also a gentle invitation.

God knows. God is not surprised by my addictive need to be known. My impure motivations are not a shock. I want to be loved by strangers, but more deeply than anything, I think I want to be loved by God. I want to know His love in a way that sustains me and secures me. I want to know His love in a compelling way so that I don’t desperately need the praise of anyone else.

Matthew 6:4 says, “ . . . let your giving be done in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” Jesus is talking about a secret exchange.

When I give in secret, God meets me in that secret place. It’s such an intimate place. I have secrets with my husband and secrets with my best friend. To be honest, those are the most tender places in my story. I only keep secrets with my closest people. I wonder if what happens in the secret place with Christ is far greater than the affirmation winks I get from people I pass on the sidewalk.

The invitation isn’t to stop being kind to strangers. The invitation is to be with God in my secret thoughts — those sinful ones that slip in aren’t meant to be silenced, hushed, or ignored. They are meant to be brought into the light with Christ. I let Christ come close to my true heart. I ask God to purify me. I ask God to meet me in the quiet places where my soul searches for love from everyone else but Him. I let my actions be an offering of love instead of a desperate attempt to be loved. I let Him into the hidden chambers of my wandering thoughts. And He meets me with the love I am really looking for.

The Gift of Passing Down Family Recipes

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I can’t remember a time when cooking wasn’t of paramount importance to me.

My first game of pretend? Cooking show. Tiny plastic cups and saucers arranged on an imaginary stove, balls of play-doh mimicking the vegetables and curries and chapatis (unleavened, griddled flatbreads) that were commonplace on our dinner table.

I remember the first time I tasted homemade butter; my grandmother put a stainless steel bowl next to me, with a wink. No butter can ever come close to hers because a grandmother’s love is the kind of seasoning you can’t package.

The first recipe I ever made on my own: rock cakes. These Australian-style raisin scones satisfied both my sweet tooth and my desire to cook. I made them nigh on weekly, as my parents napped on weekend afternoons. They’d arise to hot tea and warm rock cakes.

The reason I know that was my first recipe is because the occasion was so momentous that I wrote it down. In fact, I started a recipe journal, with the rock cakes recipe written in careful cursive on the first page, using my favorite fountain pen. I still have that journal now, a battered old day planner with 1988 stamped on the corner in gold ink.

My mum inspired me to start a recipe journal. She started her own journal as a response to the early passing of her mother. My grandmother, Lucia, was a tremendous cook — the kind who could wing a cake recipe and steam it on the stove (she didn’t have an oven). But like many of us, she didn’t write any of those recipes down, and so, with her passing, all that culinary wisdom and history left too. Mum didn’t want that happening to us, so she has dutifully kept a journal for as long as I can remember, tweaking traditional recipes and adding new ones.

While I don’t dwell on the idea of God calling her home, one day He will. And when He does, my sisters and I will have that recipe journal to remember her when we make a meal. We’ll be able to run our fingers over her handwriting, narrowing the gap between here and there. In making the recipes, we’ll not only be able to bring a piece of her into our kitchens, we’ll also be able to share her with our children, drawing their roots deep into the rich soil of their ancestry.

Time and distance are enemies to connection. They wear away at our memory and throw obstacles on the path to enriching relationships. If there’s anything we’ve learned over the past two years, it’s that we aren’t meant to be alone. We all quickly scheduled Zoom and FaceTime dates with our family and friends, celebrating birthdays, holidays, and memorials over our screens.

Another way we can combat the fading of connection is via pen and paper. When we write things down, we give them value. We take the abstract and turn it into something tactile — something we can touch, relive, share. We freeze that moment in time, simultaneously locking in the past, with an expectation of a connection to the future. And one of the most powerful ways to connect is through food.

God understands that we forget. He prescribed the feasting and fasting of Passover for the Israelites as a means of remembering where they came from and whose they were. The seven days of unleavened bread reminded them of the suffering that preceded the victory of freedom, which they celebrated with the Passover feast.

And it shall serve as a sign to you to your hand, and as a reminder on your forehead . . . for with a powerful hand the Lord brought you out of Egypt.
Exodus 13:9 (NASB)

Later, Jesus would transform the Seder feast, simultaneously honoring the past Passover sacrifice, marking the present moment in His last supper, and forging a connection to the future when we would all break bread in memory of Him and His atoning sacrifice.

“This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
Luke 22:19 (ESV)

God has woven a remnant of the sacred into breaking bread together. When we stop, gather, eat, and share, it’s a microcosm of the great feast that awaits us in eternity. And so, recording our family recipes is a powerful, defiant fist in the air against the winds of time and the threat of distance, which seek to steal our family connections. They invite us to spend time investing in those people we may take for granted, investigating the roots of your gran’s stuffing or your uncle’s barbecue ribs. In wanting to record my mum’s recipes, I spent hours with her in the kitchen, forcing her to drop her “little bit” of turmeric onto my palm so I could measure it out and note it down. I learned more about her, my grandmother, and even my great-grandparents as we cooked together. It’s one of my most precious memories.

Family recipes are distinct from the thousands of recipes you find online and in cookbooks — those are, of course, all special and useful. But a family recipe is precious because it’s always enshrined in memory — memories of the person who made it, those who loved it (and hated it!), and times spent sharing it. It warps us to the past, whilst simultaneously making new memories in the present that will be enjoyed in the future. Family recipes are a magnificent mobius strip, not only interweaving time and space but also inviting us into the paradigm of the divine, where time as we know it will cease, where our space will be restored, and where the feast will never end.

And so, I’ve joined forces with my friends at DaySpring to bring you My Family Recipe Journal, a swoon-worthy heirloom for you to record your family’s precious gems. It’s 180 pages, divided into eight sections, each section’s colour inspired by saris in my mum’s closet. Blessings begin each section, to be read over your table or even before you cook (you know I’m a fan of that!), and Scripture adorns each recipe as a reminder that whether you are cooking through difficulty or through victory, God is with you.

I pray this book would bless you, your family, and all those you consider family this holiday season. May this simple act of recording your family recipes deepen your relationships now, and as you pass them down, extend your legacy of love, belonging, and good food to the next generation.

Point your kids in the right direction — when they’re old they won’t be lost.
Proverbs 22:6 (MSG)

We’re thrilled to give away FIVE copies of My Family Recipe Journal!

Just leave a comment telling us what cooking or family recipes mean to you.

And tune in tomorrow, Wednesday, November 24, at 11:00am central on Facebook as Aarti Sequeira and Becky Keife have a conversation about My Family Recipe Journal!

How Forgiving Others Truly Sets Us Free

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I’d lost count of the hurt.

At one point long ago, I kept a mental tally of the words and woundings, but eventually the list turned into a tangled mess. Instead of looking at each painful memory one by one like files in a cabinet or pages in a scrapbook, they started to feel like a knotted ball of yarn deep in the pit of my stomach.

I knew forgiveness was the way forward, but it was hard to know exactly how to get there.

The echoes of Bible verses about forgiveness swirled in my head, but it felt easier to hold onto my bitterness than to bless the person who’d hurt me. I feared that forgiving meant condoning the behavior. I thought setting them free would come at the expense of my own happiness. I was waiting for the apologies, the acceptance of responsibility, the right timing, the right way.

All the while, the tangled knot grew.

I sat in a circle of women wearing name tags and holding Styrofoam cups of coffee. They introduced themselves by their first names only and by the hurts and habits that brought them to the meeting that night. The complete honesty about their brokenness surprised me. I had never been in a church setting where people were so open about their addictions, unhealthy patterns, disappointments, or sinful behaviors. And yet no one flinched or sent condescending stares around the room. For how open they were about their need for Jesus, the hope they carried surprised me even more. Here they were, sharing out loud what could have easily been seen as chains of bondage — instead they seemed free.

I wanted to be free, but I didn’t even know where to start.

When it was my time to share in the circle, I didn’t say much. I tried to follow their pattern of introductions. I was embarrassed, unsure of myself, and didn’t know how to capture in one sentence why I was there. “Uhhh, hi. My name is Heather, and I’m a believer in Jesus. And I’m not sure why I’m here, but I pray it helps the person I came with tonight.” The meeting seemed like a great idea for my family member, but I kind of felt like an outsider. My anxiety about my own situation felt insignificant compared to the other struggles these women were facing. But something about that first night’s meeting stirred me with curiosity. I went back again the next week.

Every Monday night, we shared a meal together, listened to a teaching about Jesus and how He helps us recover our lives, and broke into small groups for a time of sharing. Some weeks I cried without knowing why, and other weeks I listened with awe at the freedom these women were fighting towards. Some weeks I took copious notes and other weeks I stared into my coffee cup, numb and overwhelmed by the pain I carried inside. Some weeks I cheered for my new friends when they picked up chips to mark their sobriety or forward progress, and other weeks I still wondered exactly why I was there.

Finally, we reached the series of Monday night teachings about the concept of forgiveness. The teacher for the evening opened with a quote I’ll never forget:

“Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

A chuckle passed through the room, but a harsh reality sank in quickly for me. I’d been drinking poison, and the bitterness was holding me back in my healing. Conviction gripped me. If I wanted to heal — if I wanted to live in freedom like these beautiful sisters of Christ around me — I needed to forgive. This was why God had brought me here.

Within the context of our smaller recovery group, I started sharing more of the hurt I’d carried inside for so long. The women in my circle listened. They thanked me for sharing and trusting them with my story. They prayed with me afterwards. They didn’t preach at me or try to fix me but continued to show up with me as I untangled the mess, string by string.

For years, they were the ones who walked with me through a separation, through the very difficult decision to pursue divorce, and through the subsequent years of single parenting. They helped me paint my kitchen in my new apartment, and we shared meals together on holidays when “family” had to look a little different for that year. All the while, we were pulling apart the knot.

In those recovery meetings, Jesus gave me an example of walking out forgiveness through those sisters in Christ.

They had forgiven family members, ex-spouses, friends, and children who had caused them pain. They’d forgiven old hurts from decades past and released active hurts that happened the same week as our meeting. And when they struggled with forgiveness, they confessed, and we prayed with them as they wrestled through.

My sisters gave me the courage to do my part — to name the hurts, lay them at Jesus’s feet, extend the forgiveness to others that He’d already graciously lavished upon me, and trust that He knew the rest of the path ahead. Something about relinquishing the control of my unforgiveness scared me, but as I began to loosen my grip on those debts, it lost its power over me.

In Matthew 18:21, Peter asks Jesus if there’s a limit to the number of times we’re expected to forgive others:

Then Peter came and said to Him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.”

Gosh, sometimes my tangled unforgiveness knot seemed like it would take seventy times seventy times seventy iterations of forgiveness, but I realized this was exactly what God had done for me on the cross. I cannot quantify the number of times in my life I’ve sinned or the total number of times I will continue to sin, but I do know God has already called it finished. He separated my sin as far as the east is from the west, and asks me to do the same for my brothers and sisters in Christ. He doesn’t tell us to forgive all types of sin except for just this one type or to forgive every instance of sin until it reaches the maximum number He’s set forth. He tells us to keep forgiving because that’s what He did for us, and it’s what we’re called to do for others.

I forgave the person who hurt me the deepest, and while the relationship was never reconciled, I know God is pleased I’m no longer dragging around the chains of past hurts. He helped me spit out the poison of resentment so I could drink the fullness of life He had for me on the other side of forgiveness.

God used a women’s recovery group and seven years’ worth of Monday night coffee to show me the way to freedom, and I’m so glad He did.

What I Learned from Cooking Thanksgiving Dinner

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We’re mixing up Bible Study Mondays a bit today! Here’s a timely story by Aliza Latta, as published in Week 4 of Courageous Kindness! Scroll down for the usual reflection questions, video, and more.

“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?” “The one who treated him kindly,” the religion scholar responded. Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”
Luke 10:36–37 (MSG)

I was about to cook my first turkey dinner for Thanksgiving. It felt like a big deal. I had no idea how to cook a turkey, but I figured if most people managed to cook a turkey on Thanksgiving, I could somehow figure out how to cook the bird myself.

I’d bought all the groceries I needed — far too many potatoes, if I’m being honest, but I’ve always been a firm believer in having as many mashed potatoes as possible.

I decided to cook at my sister’s house because she has a bigger kitchen, so I lugged all my groceries from the fridge in my apartment down to my car. It took three trips. On my final trip down, turkey tucked safely in my arms, I noticed the door of my neighbor’s apartment had water seeping out beneath it.

I kept walking, noticing more and more water filling the hallway. I sighed and looked down at the turkey I was holding. I was on a strict timeline — I had even drafted an oven schedule so I’d know exactly what time everything should be cooking.

My neighbor popped out from behind her door, looking frantic. “There’s water everywhere!”

She wasn’t speaking to me, exactly, but there was no one else in the hallway. For a split second, I considered continuing on my way and pretending I hadn’t seen her. But then I remembered a prayer I’d prayed only days earlier: God, give me opportunities to meet my neighbors.

I wanted to laugh. God sure answered that prayer quickly! So I stopped and introduced myself. “I’m Aliza. I can help. Do you have a mop?”

“I’m Mara,” she said.

Mara and I talked as we mopped. More accurately, I did the mopping, and she did the talking. I couldn’t help but smile, though. I briefly whispered a prayer to God and told Him, Thanks for the chance to meet Mara. Maybe this is exactly what Thanksgiving is for.

Mara and I didn’t become best friends, but we did exchange Christmas cards, and now we smile wider when we see each other in the hallway.

My turkey dinner was a little late. But as the day passed and I was able to start cooking, I became more and more grateful for my encounter with Mara. And I started to wonder: Perhaps being inconvenienced is actually the best way to love your neighbor.

– Aliza Latta

When we think about courageous “as we go on our way” kindness, it’s easy to want to look at it through a shiny Instagram filter. As in, how nice to hold the door for a hands-full mama as you walk into a store. Or how kind to pick up the tab for the person behind you in the drive-through line. Sure, such small gestures are great and will probably put a smile on someone’s face — maybe even assure them that a total stranger (and God) is mindful of them.

But this week we’re going to discover that while courageous kindness can be simple, it also requires our compassion and inconvenience. That first word might sound warm and fuzzy, but the second . . . not so much. However, as we’ll learn in a story Jesus told to a group of religious leaders, we can’t truly live without either.

Grab your copy of Courageous Kindness and keep reading Week 4!

Discussion Video

Three (in)courage writers invite us into their conversations about Courageous Kindness! Join study author Becky Keife alongside Grace P. Cho and Lucretia Berry each week as they discuss the readings. Listen in on their conversation about Week 4 (and find all the weekly videos here):

Reflection Questions

In the comments below, answer and discuss:

  • What would you do if you saw an opportunity to help someone but it would be a big inconvenience?
  • Would you pretend not to see their need and rush by, or would you “put down your turkey”?

Let’s Pray Together

Jesus, if there is any way I have falsely understood who my neighbor is, please correct my thinking. As You extend love and compassion to all people, I want to do the same. Lord, give me an opportunity this week to be a neighbor to someone. I’m willing to be inconvenienced for Your name’s sake. Amen.

Click here for a FREE week from each of our four Courageous Bible Studies and free leader resources! Also, tune in each Thursday for a new episode of the (in)courage podcast to hear from (in)courage team members Anna & Joy, and writers Becky, Lucretia, and Grace as they all work their way through the study right alongside you. Listen wherever you stream podcasts (or find all the episodes here!)

Answer the reflection questions in the comments so we can discuss Week 4 together, and we’ll see you back here next Monday to begin Week 5!

PS – Happy Thanksgiving week to our friends in the US!

A Blessing for the Changing of the Season

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I grew up with palm trees overhead and flip-flops on my feet, even on Christmas. After eighteen years of summer year-round, I moved twelve hours north. Fall doesn’t arrive here until mid-November, but it does arrive, and there’s a 100% chance you’ll find me gushing over hues of red and maroon, school bus yellow and bright orange. I’ll happily put on a scarf every morning, stir soup on the stove in the afternoon, and light a pumpkin or cinnamon candle in the evening.

What I’m saying is that I’m nearly thirty-years-old, but yes, I will pull the car over just to get a picture of the leaves changing and clap my hands at the first snowfall. What’s normal to others feels like magic to me, shimmering like a filter and covering even the most ordinary of moments with delight.

The thing about seasons, though, is that they always come and go. Even as I stare in wonder at the glorious colors, I know that in a matter of days or weeks, the leaves are going to fall, crinkling and floating down, only to be crunched right before snow makes its arrival.

The hours of daylight are already shrinking. What is so beautiful and vibrant will die as winter slides in, covering the colors with a chill. Spring will eventually arrive and flowers will bloom, but there’s no way around it — we have to walk through winter first.

At the close of 2018, years before the word “pandemic” was part of our regular vocabulary, I wrote “Truth to Hold onto When Everything is Changing.” In many ways, the last two years have felt like one long winter with brief glimpses of the hope of spring, the joy of summer, and the beauty of fall. Nothing is changing and everything is changing, somehow at the very same time.

As we prepare for an external winter around us while experiencing an extended internal winter within us, I’ve found myself returning to the truth that has been a constant and a comfort through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

God is a God of seasons, the One who keeps time and is outside of time all at the same time. He will not be rushed, and He will not be late — but He will be faithful. He is the God who comes to us and stays with us and who cannot be confined to a calendar page.

As Charles Spurgeon said, “The seasons change and you change, but the Lord abides evermore the same, and the streams of His love are as deep, as broad and as full as ever.”

This is the promise in every season: God is unchanging, and His love for us does not waver.

And this unchanging One? He could have come on any day at any time. He’s the hope of spring, the joy of summer, and the beauty of fall . . . and yet He chose the winter.

After four hundred years of silence, in the bitter cold and the dark of night, Light broke through. The Creator held by human hands that He created, swaddled in a manger. Angels proclaiming good news for all. Shepherds searching on the outskirts of town. A long-ago promise fulfilled.

Hope. Joy. Beauty. Right there, even in the winter.

As the calendar pages turn and the seasons shift, may we hold tightly to the One who doesn’t change, who walks with us through the silence of winter until new life arrives. The Promise Maker is a Promise Keeper, and He isn’t going anywhere — Emmanuel, God with us in every season.

A Blessing for the Changing of the Season:

In every high and every low, may we remember that we do not walk alone. There is grace for each moment in a Guide who makes a way and a Friend that stays beside. The seasons may change, but His love will remain the same. Instead of holding our breath in fear or dread, may we breathe in His abundant grace and breathe out trust in the Keeper of time. May we trust the unknown of the future to the One we know is authoring its pages. And with our hands open and eyes fixed, may we rest and remember: For everything there is a season, and the unchanging God will be with us in every one.

For more hope-filled encouragement, free lock screens for your phone, and book recommendations from Kaitlyn, follow her on Instagram!

How Being Like a Bulldog Teaches Us to Be Tenacious

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I feel battle weary. I have decision fatigue. I am tattered and exhausted. My knees are tired from hitting the floors in prayer, and my spirit is weary from moments of sheer confusion. In the last month our family has dealt with multiple trips to the emergency room, a difficult city government regarding the sale of our home, a major move and financial frustrations. I’ve seen God do miracles in the eleventh hour when we knew only He could fix the problem or provide for us. I’ve dealt with outcomes we didn’t want. I’m exhausted, but I continue to hold on.

My mom calls me her little bulldog. I could be offended, but I get it. A bulldog has a personality that is persistent and determined. If something belongs to a bulldog, she grabs on and doesn’t let go, no matter who tries to take it from her. She has been designed by God to be able to breathe as she locks her jaws on to what she knows is hers. I embrace the personality of a bulldog when it comes to what God has told me about who I am, what He’s done, what He promises, and what He can do through me. An outsider might think I’m stubborn and not living in reality. But when it comes to God’s truth, I believe it’s smart to grab on and never let go.

I realize it’s easy to be frustrated after the first time something doesn’t work in your family, career, or plans. It’s even more exhausting when God asked you to do something or led you to a decision and then things don’t go as planned the first time or even the tenth time. Maybe you’ve never seen God come through in the situation you desperately prayed for. I can relate to all of the above.

Remember your determination, overcoming spirit, and persistence is an expression of faith in the middle of those difficult moments. Being tenacious with God is a lost art, and when we persevere, it makes others pay attention to how God persistently loves them.

As you pick up the pieces of whatever you’re facing, know that God holds all things together. As you choose to try again, know that He will be with you wherever you go and gives you the courage you desperately need to go on. As you seek wisdom, God promises to reveal all things to you and give you His vision. As you seek Him in the midst of the hard times, God will remind you that He is holding you and the world around you together.

Somehow I keep holding on to the Lord and to His promises tighter when the storms come. There are always seasons when the storms rage, but I’m unwilling to yield or give up. I look for the hundredth solution that just might work. I wake up at 3 a.m. to search for a new treatment. I pray for wisdom and favor and help from God and His people. Some might call me annoying, but I am persistent in my faith knowing Whose I am and what He says about me.

Throughout my life’s most difficult experiences, I’ve learned that the Spirit shows up to refresh us and tighten our grip to the truth. We can be tired and still tenacious. 

I’m beyond weary as I unpack our boxes in our rent house, pray that we finally close on the sale of our house, and run to get another prescription. But even in the hard moments, the Holy Spirit has been kind enough to whisper reminders of who I am that have nothing to do with my situation: I am a daughter of the King.

Sisters, we are His heirs, and we need to start acting like the King, allowing His traits to be revealed in us. And if God is one thing, He is tenacious. He never gives up on us. He holds all things together. He pursues us with His overwhelming love, and He is determined to make sure every last person has heard the good news of His salvation. 

No matter what you’re facing today, let’s be like a pack of bulldogs, holding on to God in times of trouble and unwilling to let go of His promises.