Pouring into One Another’s Lives Is a Powerful and Beautiful Thing

Pouring into One Another’s Lives Is a Powerful and Beautiful Thing

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Waking up the day before my son’s wedding day with a collection of feelings completely at odds with one another took me by surprise. Abounding joy, I had expected; the slight but baffling sense of loss, I had not.

I adored my bonus daughter-to-be. How could I feel anything but happiness for my son to have found a precious wife who loves and complements him in the best of ways? How could I feel even one iota of loss when our family was gaining an amazing human?

Of course I was aware that our family would expand when my son got married, but until the eve of the wedding, it hadn’t entered my mind that our family unit as it had been for twenty-four years would be forever changed. And I certainly didn’t know this would mess with my emotions.

It made zero sense, and bewildered, I struggled to understand my feelings. I was genuinely happy for Thomas and Gina to marry, but to have even a shadow of sadness brought guilt and confusion. Shouldn’t I have anticipated something like this?

I found myself wishing I had been prepared for what I felt, that someone would have warned me that I might wake up a bag of mixed emotions. True, we had thirteen months to get ready for the wedding, but how could I know this was something to know? My dilemma was the kind of thing experience teaches you . . . or, in a sweeter scenario, the kind of thing a friend who’s gone before you can share.

I remember feeling the same way, but for a very different reason, when I received a call from my doctor with news I wasn’t expecting — that I had hit menopause. The new revelation about my health had left me reeling and mournful about something I feel like I should have known but didn’t. I remember thinking, Why didn’t anyone tell me I might feel this way?

Both of these experiences illustrate something important and valuable: We need friends who’ve gone before us to help us navigate the inevitable challenges we’ll face in life, to help prepare us for what comes next, to help us process our complex emotions, and to help us realize what we’re feeling is normal.

I’ve had, and I have, wise and godly friendships with older women. But have I made space truly to learn from them? Have I given them permission to speak freely? Have I invited conversations that allow older friends to share their life experience, even if it’s awkward sometimes?

Equally important, I need to be that older friend for those who are a few steps behind me. By the time you get to the season of life I’m in — a card-carrying empty nester — you’ve done some serious living. I’ve been wedged between rocks and hard places where I couldn’t see my way out. I’ve parented three children who are out on their own and making our world better. I’ve walked through the valley of the shadow of death. I’ve faced success and failure, hardship and adventure, joy and sorrow, plenty and want.

God calls us to be good stewards of what we’ve been given. Earned over time, experience and wisdom often come at great cost, and neither should be wasted. It’s powerful and important to redeem the hardest seasons of our lives by pouring what we’ve learned into one another.

In church, this might fall under a formal women’s ministry, inspired by Titus 2:3-5 —

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.

But pouring into one another can happen anytime, and it isn’t about perfection or being some sort of “super Christian.” Paul, in instructing Titus about how to train older women to pour into younger women, says it this way in The Passion Translation —

. . . lead them . . . to be teachers of beautiful things (v. 3b)

Isn’t this amazing? As we grow older, we’re called to be teachers of beautiful things. (I love, love, love this!)

Life, with all its challenges and complexities, is still a beautiful thing — maybe even more so because of its challenges and complexities. So ours is a two-fold opportunity:

  • To invite older friends to speak wisdom and truth to us. This means pursuing the kind of godly friendship where trust is developed and conversations happen naturally. There are a few women in my life who might have “warned” me about how I might feel leading up to the wedding or when I faced menopause if I let them know I wanted and needed their wisdom and experience.
  • To pursue friendship with younger women. Regardless of your age, there are women younger in life and faith than you who would benefit from your wisdom and experience. When they’re struggling, take every opportunity to point them to the truth of the gospel and pour out what you’ve learned and experienced. The stories of how God has met you in the midst of difficulty might be exactly what they need to hear.

Had I been pursuing a deeper level of friendship with my older friends or been more intentional about the time we spent together, I could have been more prepared for how I would feel before my son’s wedding. Their insight wouldn’t likely have prevented my mixed emotions, but my feelings wouldn’t have come as a surprise. When it comes to issues women will inevitably face — like my experience with menopause — it is helpful to talk with others who understand and can help you navigate those seasons. And once we walk those roads ourselves, pouring what we’ve learned or experienced into younger friends is a lovely redemption of the struggle.

Season 2, Episode 11: Wear Your Own Shoes, Ignore Imposter Syndrome, and Show Up Fully as Yourself

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“I’m not enough, and everyone’s going to find out.” Have you ever had a similar thought? Joy and Anna have, and today they talk about how to show fully as your whole, entire self. This is how you’ll have influence. They talk about David and Goliath and how we can work with Jesus to defeat imposter syndrome. Listen below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Bringing another story to us today is (in)courage contributor Tasha Jun, who reads from Week Three of the Courageous Influence Bible Study.

Also, in each episode of this season (today included), you will hear from very special guests Kathi Lipp, Becky Keife, and Grace P. Cho (author of Courageous Influence)!These three friends spent a few days together as they went through the study, and, lucky us, they recorded their conversations so we can all listen in! Find all the Bible Study Mondays posts here and discover for yourself what God says about influence (spoiler alert: you have it! Yes, you!)

Listen to today’s episode below! And be sure to get your copy of the Courageous Influence Bible Study from DaySpring.com!

When You Don’t Think You Can Keep Going, Take the Next Step

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I laced up my trail shoes and took a deep breath. The delicious aroma of the forest filled me. My eyes lifted, tracing the trunks of pine trees pointing toward heaven. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I anticipated running in a trail race again.

In 2020 and early 2021, most trail and road races were canceled. Because of the global pandemic and a long fire season in California, it had been more than fifteen months since I’d run in an official race.

That’s a long time for me.

You see, running has always been my saving grace. It’s the way I clear my mind and re-center my heart back on God and the truth. It’s the place I preach the gospel back to myself when I’m feeling weary or out of sorts. I generally choose several races a year to train for because the joy is in the training – starting out slow and building up to longer miles. I love working toward a goal and seeing how God meets me with His glory on the journey.

Training outdoors in God’s creation is my favorite soul care, but this year training was rough through the many weeks of horrible air quality due to forest fires. I tried to exercise indoors, but it wasn’t quite the same without the beautiful mountain backdrops. The air was thick and heavy, and the sky was often an apocalyptic pink.

On the morning of the Shadow of the Giants 25k, my heart pulsed with anticipation. It was my fifth time running this race. Returning to this course has always been a marker to reflect on how far God has brought me in this race of life, and He’s always met me in a unique way as my shoes hug the familiar trails.

However, as I followed the camber of the trail at 6,000-feet elevation, I saw trees with blackened trunks. The landscape felt stark and unfamiliar. Whole sections of the forest were open and bare like too much scalp showing after a bad haircut. There was an eerie hush over the land.

Dirt and gravel gave way to sand and tree roots as the trail took a sharp turn upwards. The sun beat down on my shoulders. There were moments when it felt too arduous to even lift my legs, let alone run.

One more step, one more stretch, I kept telling myself. Persevere.

I couldn’t help thinking about how the Shadow of the Giants course mirrored many of our experiences this past year through the pandemic. Just as we rounded one bend and anticipated a little downhill, there was another surprising, sharp uphill to climb.

Perseverance means to persist in spite of difficulty, obstacles, or discouragement we might encounter.

The Bible talks a lot about perseverance and how it is a key ingredient to growing our faith. Hebrews 12:1 says, “And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

It’s easy to focus on our shortcomings and disappointments, but Hebrews 12 reminds us where we need to fix our eyes — on Jesus. He’s the pioneer, the trail blazer, our pacer for life.

I have learned on my journey that the best way to navigate grief, to tackle impossible assignments, and to face tough conversations is to take the next step, and then the next.

When you’re tired of getting up in the morning for that same job, persevere.

When you’re discouraged about your child struggling in school, persevere.

When you have pandemic fatigue and you’re tired of all the protocols and decisions, persevere.

When you’re navigating another health challenge, persevere.

Friend, I know some of you are tempted to give up right about now. You are bone-weary and frustrated. You are staring up another uphill climb and wondering if it will ever get easier. Let me encourage you to persevere.

Notice Hebrews 12:1 does not say to bootstrap your way to the finish line. It doesn’t say push yourself so hard that you neglect much needed rest. It doesn’t say to try to find the shortest or easiest possible route. It says to run with perseverance after Jesus.

Romans 5:3-5 reminds us what perseverance produces:

We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Did you catch that?

Perseverance produces character and leads us down the path to hope.

Jesus persevered up a huge hill to die on a cross in our place. Three days later, He rose from the grave. He is our example of perseverance that regenerates hope.

I’m not going to lie. Those last few miles in the Shadow of the Giants race were hard. They changed the course because of some construction on the road, and it threw me off. At one point, I imagined myself dropping to the ground and crawling to the finish line. The struggle was real.

And then suddenly, my feet found a familiar road flanked by glorious trees that led to the finish line. I came full circle on the path that reminded me His glory still persists. And though the trail was much harder than I anticipated, I found the work of perseverance had paid off and hope filled me to keep going.

Dorina’s devotional book and training journal, Walk Run Soar, turns 1-year-old today! Sign up for her Glorygram newsletter and get all the insider details about her book and new podcast, “Eat Pray Run”.

When You Could Use a Navigation App for Your Life

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Please proceed to the route . . . 
Please proceed! To the route!
Please! Proceed! To! The route!
Rerouting . . .

And then, radio silence.

This was what I heard several times during my family vacation this past summer. My husband, two daughters, and I drove from Missouri to the Grand Canyon. And much to the chagrin of the robot inside my phone (as we referred to the navigation app), we did not always stay on the prescribed course during our travels.

Between pulling out of our driveway and finally returning home several days later, we drove about 3,000 miles through seven states. For the most part, it was smooth sailing. My husband is a truck driver who had studied the map before we left, so he knew which highways we needed to take and all the exits we couldn’t miss. The trouble came when we arrived at our destination and wanted to explore. More than once, we missed a turn or decided we knew better or didn’t hear the instructions being read from the phone — and that’s when we heard it.

Please proceed to the route . . . 
Please proceed! To the route!
Please! Proceed! To! The route!
Rerouting . . .

Sometimes I would have sworn the app was angry with us. Though I’m well aware “her” voice is simply the product of a computer program and not actually a sentient robot talking to us, the pleas to proceed to the route seemed, at times, exasperated. It was as if our robotic navigator was really saying, “Get back on track, please. I said to get back on course! Hello! PEOPLE. Are you listening? Turn that minivan around before you get lost!”

If we veered too far off course, we eventually got the silent treatment from the phone. We’d hear a click (a robot’s version of a sigh, surely) and then . . . nothing. We’d finally done it. We’d gone too far down our own path and even the maps app was giving up on us.

My family was so tickled by this and laughed a lot as we figured out how to get where we wanted to go. But it’s not so amusing when the destination and the journey are less tangible and more personal.

Sometimes the road to reaching our goals, to staying within God’s guidelines for what’s best, for “smooth sailing” seems obvious. It’s right in front of us, paved and pointed to by Scripture or a still, small voice, by mentors or past experience or even common sense. The best course is simple, straightforward, and if we squint our eyes just right, we can see the finish line from here.

But most of the time it’s not that easy. More often than not, we’re just as likely to get off course as my family on a cross-country vacation. Perhaps we miss a turn and don’t realize we needed to make a change until it seems too late. Maybe we hear the directions but decide another way seems more interesting or more efficient or more fun. Or maybe we don’t hear the directions at all and no matter how hard we strain our senses in an effort to find answers, we come up empty and unsure.

Sometimes it would be awfully nice if we could open an app on our phones to tell us which job to apply for, how to handle our child’s diagnosis, what to say to our spouse in the middle of the same argument we keep having. Who hasn’t wished for a robotic voice (or any voice!) to give exact instructions when facing a health crisis or budget problems or a complicated friendship?

We don’t have to pick up our phones (or Google or poll our friends or wish on a star) to navigate through our lives. We simply have to ask God for help.

James 1:5 says, “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you” (NLT). And Jesus tells us in the book of Matthew to continue asking for what we need until we receive it.

Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.
Matthew 7:7-8 (NLT)

Keep on asking. Even when you take a wrong turn or misunderstand His guidance or can’t figure out which way is up (or north). Even when you intentionally take a left when He’s told you to go right. Even when you feel like you should know the answer or when it seems as if everyone else knows exactly what to do and how to do it. Keep on asking.

And our loving Heavenly Father will not only give us the wisdom and guidance we need when we need it, but He also will do it with patience. He’ll never get exasperated with us for needing help, for messing up, for feeling confused. When He tells us to proceed to the route He’s designed, He won’t grow increasingly frustrated like I imagined my phone did. And He certainly won’t go silent when it takes us a while to respond or learn or make that U-turn.

Are you lost? Confused or unsure? Driving in circles, passing the same landmark over and over again, unable to get back to the main highway (metaphorically speaking, of course)? God will help you. He will guide you and show you the way. All you have to do is ask.

Cry out for insight,
and ask for understanding.
Search for them as you would for silver;
seek them like hidden treasures.
Then you will understand what it means to fear the Lord,
and you will gain knowledge of God.
For the Lord grants wisdom!
From his mouth come knowledge and understanding.
Proverbs 2:3-6 (NLT)

What Do You Do When It Feels Like God Has Abandoned You?

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My heart pounded as I drove home, too crushed to cry or scream. When I got home, I headed straight to our bedroom, grabbed my Bible off the nightstand, marched to the kitchen, and threw it in the trashcan on top of the morning coffee grounds.

My appointment, a second opinion, wasn’t supposed to end this way. I had prayed and pleaded together with a trusted group of girlfriends. With all my faith, I believed God could, that He would, give me a miracle. Doctors make mistakes. The first diagnosis must be wrong. We heard the baby’s heartbeat last month. Maybe the ultrasound tech had simply missed it this time. But instead of celebrating the miracle we prayed for, our loss was confirmed. All the air was sucked out of the room. How could this be? Where was my miracle?

Immediately, I began to doubt everything I believed. I’d been in church my entire life. Youth groups and church camps had been a childhood staple. As an adult, I’d served on worship teams, volunteered for countless activities, and led Bible studies. God was supposed to love and care for His children. How was allowing agony and heartbreak signs of a loving God? Questions began to swirl:

Where had I gone wrong?
What had I missed?
Were they right? Was my faith too small for God to show up?
How small is a mustard seed again? Surely I had prayed with more faith than that!

How do you come to accept God’s will when it’s the opposite of your own? When it feels like your faith is hanging on by a thin, frayed thread, how do you find the courage to move on? What do you do when it feels like God has abandoned you?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reconcile how God could ignore my desperate pleas. I was His daughter. Didn’t He love me? Didn’t Psalms say if you delight in the Lord, He’ll give you the desires of your heart? Isn’t there a verse about where two or more are gathered, He is in the midst of them? I had gathered a strong group of prayer warriors. Still our efforts seemed in vain.

It’s easy to love God when things are going well, hands lifted high, remembering His faithfulness. The true test comes when life hits you full force causing your knees to buckle as your world shatters. It’s then that you discover you only have two options: You can either cling to your feelings of despair or His promises of hope. It’s hard to set your emotions aside for the sake of truth. You feel utterly alone, abandoned, yet His word reminds us, “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6b).

My body healed quickly from the miscarriage, but my soul took much longer. Tears that initially wouldn’t come now had no end. I found safety in the cocoon of my bed, spending hours, even days there. Calls went unanswered. My Bible, rescued by my husband and stained from my coffee and tantrum, remained unopened across the room. Thankfully, a sweet friend came to my rescue. For months, she tenderly cared for me, listening when I needed to talk, inviting me to coffee, crying with me as I mourned. When words failed me, she prayed. During my darkest days, when the sadness and despair were all-consuming, her love carried me.

When you’re in the eye of the storm, it’s hard to feel God’s nearness. Chaos swirls all around while God seems distant at best. Yet, when we look back, through a less-distorted lens, we’re able to see His love and faithfulness,  His constant presence providing for our needs, holding us close, and comforting us.

I couldn’t see it then, but years later God’s fingerprints throughout that season were obvious. He saw every tear I cried. He lovingly cared for me through my friend’s presence and actions. His grace allowed me to be angry enough to throw His Word and promises away. Still, He loved me. Like a loving father, God doesn’t always give us what we want, and sometimes what He allows feels confusing and cruel.

Over time, my pride and brokenness revealed themselves, and I recognized my need to surrender. I wrongly believed I’d checked enough boxes along the way to earn my miracle. God doesn’t work that way. His “no” was not the result of me missing the mark or not having enough faith. His love is unconditional, rooted in grace. We can’t earn it, and we can’t lose it either.

God’s goodness isn’t dependent on me. It’s not a result of anything I’ve done or didn’t do. He is good because He’s God. Period.

Are you in a similar season? Have you prayed with every fiber of your being only to be met with an answer you find hard to accept? Do you feel unheard, unseen, and unloved by your Heavenly Father?

In the middle of the soul-crushing disappointment, overwhelming heartbreak, and sense of abandonment, God is still right there. Perhaps He’s carrying you or maybe He’s in the background working out the details or He could be preparing the way for you. One thing I know for certain: He has never left me. He never will. He has never left you, and He won’t start now.

Rest in Order to Be Restored and Ready for What’s to Come

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For the long Labor Day weekend, our family headed to the beach where we had been invited by friends to join them. I was grateful and wanted to be excited about spending a few days away at the beach, but reaching for rest required effort I was too tired to put forth. With project deadlines looming, a to-do list growing, and a demanding daily life, I resolved that while my family played along the ocean, I would sit on the sand and work.

But my body rejected my resolution. When we arrived at the beach house, I physically felt as though I was bearing the weight of a massive boulder on my head, neck, shoulders, and chest. The thought of finishing a book chapter or editing a blog post or even reading an email seemed to deplete what little of me that remained. I was too exhausted to push past the fatigue. My body gave me no choice. I had to press pause, be present in rest, and trust that everything under my charge — including my children — would be cared for. I scraped the depths of my reservoir to muster some gratitude and reminded myself:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down . . . (Psalms 23:2 KJV)

He made me stop. He made me retreat. He made me sit in a beach chair and stare at the ocean.

And I complied. The warm weather welcomed me. The ocean tides danced back and forth as if to say, “Hi, sister! We are so glad you decided to join us!” The sound of the waves crashing and splashing was hypnotic, like a distraction designed to soothe a busy mind. The wind whooshed and swished around my ears with loud whispers of glorious affirmations:

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I don’t have to fear the fear spewed at me through social media. Because God is with me, I am comforted.

My life-giving reservoir is so full that it overflows into the lives of those around me, especially my family.

Because I am flanked by goodness and mercy, I don’t have to be anxious about anything, not even my children’s well-being.

As I sat soaking in the harmony of the ocean, sun, and wind, restoration had her way with me. The weight seemed to dissipate. I was revived by the sun’s rays. As I immersed myself in the salt water, fresh cuts and wounds from piercing arrows washed away. While wading among the waves, I fully extended my hands to surrender mind, body, and spirit to restoration’s plan. I felt resurrected, alive again. I exhaled a smile of relief.

Meanwhile, the teenage daughters of our two families had spent a few hours together away from us parents. When we met them back at the beach house, I was met with wide-eyed faces, anxious to tell me about something that had occurred. My daughter proceeded to tell me that they had been walking along the road when a black pickup truck full of teenage White boys revved the engine at them, chased them, and yelled out the N-word! Frightened, our daughters ran and hid among the tall grass.

I was in shock. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even make a sound or form a facial expression. I was simultaneously frozen with grief as my soul seemed to implode and collapse in on itself. The weight that my body had just released at the beach reaffixed itself to my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I went to a corner, sat in a rocking chair, and literally rocked myself. I was trying to make sense of it all. I had just experienced relief from what felt like crushing weight only to have it flung like a boomerang back to me. I had always hoped that my children would only ever read about this type of overt interpersonal racist bigotry but never experience it.

In the days that followed, I was left wondering if I had not surrendered to restoration, would my daughter’s experience have crushed me? If I had not listened to my body’s request for rest, not allowed restoration to have her way, and had refused nature’s invitation to play, I might have been broken by the incident. And in my brokenness, I might have acted impulsively — I wanted to find that black truck and retaliate, pack up immediately and get my family out of that town, or set something on fire! Instead, I reflected on His promise to always keep and be with my children.

I am grateful that He made me lie down, even when I was being defiant and tried to delay rest. I know that rest is essential to our design. But prior to this incident, I’d only thought of rest as a break from our weekly rhythms or a pause in our efforts to build a better something. But in rest, we not only recover from what was, restoration fortifies us for what is to come. He makes us lie down so that when life knocks us down, we can get back up.

How Will We Use Our Words? To Heal or To Destroy?

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I still remember where we were standing. My bare feet were sticking slightly to her linoleum floor as we talked in the doorway of her family’s kitchen. There’s only one part of that conversation that I still hear clearly in my memory now. She told me that someone described me as “boring Tasha.”

That day, I shrugged the comment off because I didn’t know how else to respond. It was a little comment. My good friend didn’t have mean intentions in telling me what was said, but those words stuck. The description of “boring” knocked on the door of my heart, and I let it move in and unpack its bags.

The words that we let fall from our mouths have power. James describes the tongue like the rudder of a ship or a wild animal that must be tamed in James 3:3-6:

When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal. Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go. Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

Those simple words shared by my friend directed the way I viewed myself from behind the scenes of my life for years after that seemingly insignificant moment.

That was over twenty years ago.

It’s taken Jesus’ relentless pursuit of my heart — days that turned into years of reading my Bible and living in community with others who spoke truth and grace to me — to believe what’s actually true about who I am. What’s actually true couldn’t be further from the word “boring.” You and I are masterpieces, created by the God who made the galaxies and the beautiful cluster of stormy, sea-blue irises that bloom outside my window every spring.

What if the words you casually said today stuck with someone for the next twenty years or more, wrapping around them like a set of caged bars and hindering how they move forward in the world from this day on? Or what if the words you intentionally spoke today stuck with someone and set them free to move into the places God purposed for them to be with courage, confidence, and conviction?

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.
Ephesians 4:15-16 (ESV)

Some of us need to put into practice taking words and thoughts captive before we speak them or keep them.

Some of us need to learn to speak up and say the words God meant for us to speak: words of truth that affirm the Imago Dei in every one of us. Not speaking up when we should is just as dangerous as speaking when we shouldn’t. Proverbs 16:24 says, “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

Our world continues to bear the weight and impact of a global pandemic along with all the pain and injustice of systemic racism. We are all facing loss, uncertainty, and exhaustion. In light of that, let’s be people who remember that our words wield great power. God meant for each of us to speak words of truth, sandwiched between grace and love. In a time of great need, our words have the power to soothe thirsty souls and heal the fractured bones of our land.

How Cooking Is Holy Ground to Experience God

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A rollicking Bollywood number bounced jauntily between the aisles. I navigated around the giant jute bags filled with basmati and idli rice, breathing in that quintessential Indian market aroma: spice, sweetness, and earth, wound in a ribbon of incense.

The owner, Vibha, a petite, long-haired lady, with high cheekbones and deep dimples, scanned her khol-rimmed eyes over the shelves, looking for anything out of place. She’d transformed the store from a quiet mart with flickering fluorescent lights into a radiant, bustling market, complete with a kitchen from which emerged the crispiest samosas and a jackfruit curry I still can’t forget. Vibha has been my staunch supporter, talking me through Indian cooking techniques when I was stumped and even providing spices when I cooked for my cookbook release party. I walked over and gave her a hug.

I peeked over her shoulder, taking in the hubbub of the kitchen.

“Wait a minute, Aunty,” I said (In Indian culture, every elder is referred to as “aunty” or “uncle” whether or not you share a bloodline). “None of the people cooking your food are Indian!”

“Yes!” Vibha beamed proudly. “I’ve taught them everything — how to make chutney, dosas, everything! I even taught them to pray before they cook!”

The last part stopped me in my tracks. “You do what before you cook?”

Vibha looked at me as if I’d lost my head. “Ya, of course! I always pray before I cook. Don’t you?”

Thanks to Vibha, I’ve never looked at cooking the same way again.

I began to pray before I cooked. What once felt like a chore was now an exquisite unwinding. That first slice of an onion began to feel like slipping into a warm bath, every muscle relaxing, every breath deepening. My senses were on fire: the specific sizzle of a steak when it’s ready to be flipped, the aroma of spices blooming in hot oil, the almost blinding neon of freshly chopped herbs. Prayer painted my cooking in technicolor.

I was ravenous now, looking for more of the sacred in the kitchen. Flipping through a book on Ayurveda, the ancient Indian system of medicine, I learned that not only is food our medicine but also its preparation. Chopping vegetables is a moving meditation, soothing our minds and bodies. God tucked medicine even into the mundane. No shade on pre-chopped vegetables, but consider what we’re missing when we don’t do it ourselves. We save ourselves time, but are we cheating ourselves out of healing?

A terrible condition has now become the norm in our kitchens: Dinner must be made in thirty minutes and consumed in even less time. At the same time, we feel stressed, anxious, and disconnected from our loved ones and from God. I remember watching my grandmother cook at our farm in Mangalore, India. It took hours — soaking the lentils, building the fire, toasting the spices, grinding the masala (spice paste) on the ragado (giant grinding stone). It was so ding dang slow. And yet, so much opportunity to “be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

I may not have my grandmother’s cooking schedule, but I do have time to pray. Prayer necessitates stopping, breathing, stepping out of the hurry of the day. Consecrating my cooking time puts me in a state of gratitude, counting my blessings instead of my woes. It refocuses my heart and melts my anxieties.

Perhaps my greatest motivation to seek the sacred in the kitchen is this: Jesus cooked! Our Lord, in His resurrected body, made His disciples breakfast. Heaven came down, stoked the coals, scaled the fish, and used all His senses, His humanity, to nourish His friends’ stomachs and hearts.

We see in this small act, the core of the Sacred Heart — creation and generosity. Jesus created a meal and shared with His friends. God created the world, and He shared it with us.

Thus, cooking is an invitation to join God in the joy of creation. We’re made in His image, after all. So the thrill of peeling away the hairy skin of a celeriac to reveal its ivory flesh, the happy scent of a freshly cut lemon — He programmed those moments of delight into every creation. This is His delight too, and perhaps it sheds light on God’s delight in creating us.

What a privilege it is to cook, dear hearts! What a magical portal to touch the untouchable, the sacred!

It’s such a kindness, and it’s just like God to say, Nothing you do is beyond My touch. Invite Me into the process, and just as Moses removed his sandals before the burning bush, you’ll realize that you’ve been standing on holy ground the whole time. Perhaps that’s what Paul meant when he wrote the verse that I keep in my kitchen:

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all for the glory of God.”
1 Corinthians 10:31 (ESV)

The simple act of praying showed me that I’d been missing out on the blessings God tucked into the act of preparing food. And if there is holiness in the kitchen, I’d wager there’s probably holiness in the laundry room or in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Inviting Jesus into my kitchen has convinced me of this truth: A taste of heaven is in every earthly bite. 

Behind The Simple Difference

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Friends, we’ve got something super special for you today. Our friend, team member, and author Becky Keife sat down with Anna E. Rendell for a conversation all about her new book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact, and we recorded it for you! Take a watch and learn more about this oh-so-timely new book from Becky. We know you’ll be blessed by it.

Becky’s new book, The Simple Difference: How Every Small Kindness Makes a Big Impact, will help you see more of the people in front of you, more of God’s lavish love for you, and more of His power within you. Becky reminds us that even small acts can make a difference. Together our simple, consistent, intentional acts of kindness can create waves of change.

The Simple Difference is available wherever books are sold. We’re so excited for this book to be in your hands!

Want to start reading now? Get a FREE sample chapter!

The Shift That Occurs When We Choose Not to Be Offended

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He sat in the treatment room with a blank stare like he didn’t want to be there. I asked him question after question, but he barely gave me a response and refused to make eye contact. It was time for balance testing, but he didn’t want to try — “I am not doing that!” I wonder if he was able to sense my frustration, because after a while he said, “Don’t be offended — it’s not you!”

As he sat slouched staring at the wall, I responded gently but firmly, “I am not offended. I have been a physical therapist for over eleven years. You are not the first person that wasn’t happy to see me, and I don’t take that personally. I can’t imagine what it is like for you to live with your diagnosis, but I want to help you. And these tests show me where you need help.”

In that moment, something shifted within him. His whole demeanor changed. For the remainder of our session, he participated and even made jokes. He attended his therapy appointments every week, and we had great conversations.

All it took was that moment when I made the choice not to be offended. His attitude toward me that first day was offensive, and I was truly getting frustrated. I could have easily given him poor care, labeling him as a non-compliant or unmotivated patient, but in that moment I chose to see the person in front of me rather than what I felt or assumed about him. Here was a man that was just ten years older than me whose life had drastically changed because of a diagnosis. My forty-five minute interaction with him was just part of his story, not his whole story, so I chose to listen and understand rather than be offended.

In today’s world, many of us can be so easily offended and quick to label other people, causing us to distance ourselves from them. It is an epidemic that is killing authentic community among us today. Often the enemy will keep us offended, even with small things, so that we miss out on having genuine love for each other.

In Mark 6, we see Jesus in His hometown teaching at the local synagogue. Many were amazed at His wisdom. But there were some that saw Him as “Mary’s son, a carpenter,” and these folks were offended by Jesus. His own people labeled Him and missed out on seeing that the Messiah was in front of them. Mark goes on to tell us that Jesus could not do any miracles there except to heal a few sick people. Jesus was not limited nor did He lack power. Rather He chose not to work miracles because they chose to be offended. They missed out.

Offense is birthed out of pride and breeds hatred. When we choose to be offended, we close the door to relationships and block the healing we could receive.

There will be plenty of opportunities for offense where our pain will cause us to burn a bridge and put up a wall. Relationships carry the risk of offending us because conflict is inevitable. But when we choose not to be offended, we get the opportunity to be Jesus for those around us. As Christians, we are called to be agents of reconciliation which means we are people marked by grace and love. This is hard to do because people are hard to love. This is why the Bible has to instruct us on how we ought to engage with each other because our natural inclination will be to choose self-preservation. We must be people who choose not to be offended. And the only way we can do that is by remembering the grace and love Jesus demonstrated on the cross.

He did not retaliate when he was insulted,
nor threaten revenge when he suffered.
He left his case in the hands of God,
who always judges fairly.
He personally carried our sins
in his body on the cross
so that we can be dead to sin
and live for what is right.
By his wounds
you are healed.
1 Peter 2:23-24 (NLT)

People will hurt us, offense will come, but we are called to “live for what is right.” Jesus modeled how to do that for us, and His Holy Spirit empowers us to practice rebellious empathy and mercy just like Him.

Season 2, Episode 10: What Do You Mean IF I Can?

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“I believe. Help me in my unbelief.” Have you ever heard this phrase from Scripture? Anna and Joy felt this one hard this week, along with the time Jesus said, “What do you mean if I can?”. They talk about Mary (Jesus’ mother) getting the news of a lifetime, what we can learn about obedience from her, and what it means to give God our willing yes. Anna shares a story from a difficult part of her life and what God did with her willing yes to share that story with others. Listen below or wherever you stream podcasts!

Bringing another story to us today is (in)courage contributor Robin Dance, who reads from Week Two of the Courageous Influence Bible Study.

Also, in each episode of this season (today included), you will hear from very special guests Kathi Lipp, Becky Keife, and Grace P. Cho (author of Courageous Influence)!These three friends spent a few days together as they went through the study, and, lucky us, they recorded their conversations so we can all listen in. Find all the Bible Study Mondays posts here and discover for yourself what God says about influence. (Spoiler alert: you have it! Yes, you!)

Listen to today’s episode below! And be sure to get your copy of the Courageous Influence Bible Study from DaySpring.com.

The Hope of God’s Steadfast Goodness

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This is why I wait upon you, expecting your breakthrough,
for your word brings me hope.
Psalm 130:5 (TPT)

With the state of the world, it’s hard to wrap our minds around the goodness of God and suffering around the globe. The next level is trying to understand God’s goodness in relation to our own hardships or those of our loved ones.

Context is key, and perspective is everything.

My life has been no walk in the park. I was born into hard circumstances. I was born into all manner of dysfunction and sinful living. I was neglected and abused. Trauma was my existence.

But God.

He came in as the rescuer that He is and rescued me. He didn’t rescue me from my circumstances as much as He rescued me within them. He saved my heart and soul and mind from the enemy. He saved me from myself. Where I am today is only because of His grace and mercy.

A friend recently told me that I had every reason to run from God, but I chose to run toward Him and let Him use my life for His glory. I cried tears of awe and gratitude. It was His goodness that drew me in when I was in college. It was His goodness that held me in hard times over the last two decades. It is His goodness that reminds me that He will continue to be faithful in the days ahead.

If I’m not vigilant, the noise and brokenness of this world can distract me from God’s character. My focus can easily become fixed on everything that’s wrong instead of the God that is right.

But there are a million and one ways that God displays His goodness. Psalm 130 highlights a few of them:

Lord, if you measured us and marked us with our sins,
who would ever have their prayers answered?
But your forgiving love is what makes you so
wonderful.
No wonder you are loved and worshiped!
Psalm 130:3-4 (TPT)

The very nature of God is holy and righteous, and He literally cannot be in the presence of sin. Then there’s us — fallen humanity. When Adam and Eve sinned, it separated us from God’s presence, but it never separated us from His love. The amazing thing about God is that He had a contingency plan. He had Jesus. Before He laid the foundations of the world, He knew we would go astray. And He made a way for us to be restored back to relationship with Him.

He bows down low to hear our prayers. And He always answers, although it may not be in our timing or the answer we wanted. He extends mercy to sinners and those that are working out their salvation. He forgives and He forgets.

This is why I wait upon you, expecting your breakthrough,
for your word brings me hope.
Psalm 130:5 (TPT)

His faithfulness is just that — faithful. He is the God who doesn’t change. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). His Word is flawless and speaks life to weary souls. It brings hope and breakthrough about the future. His kindness leads us to repentance, and His gentleness invites us to come boldly before His throne of grace. He would and did pay the highest price for our redemption.

When times get tough for me or for my community, I want to plant my feet firmly on the truth of God’s Word and what I have experienced of Him.

I have experienced nothing short of God’s unconditional love, extravagant grace, and unrelenting goodness. His goodness is real and steadfast. It’s for me. It’s for you. It’s for the world.

Lord, thank You for Your faithfulness in my life. You are the same yesterday, today, and forever. I can trust You because You never change. Thank You for that gift! Help me run to You instead of away from You when things get tough. Amen.

Praying for the Harvest Season

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If you listen obediently to the commandments that I am commanding you today, love God, your God, and serve him with everything you have within you, he’ll take charge of sending the rain at the right time, both autumn and spring rains, so that you’ll be able to harvest your grain, your grapes, your olives. He’ll make sure there’s plenty of grass for your animals. You’ll have plenty to eat.
Deuteronomy 11:13-15 (MSG)

Throughout the brief period that my husband and I lived on the plains of North Dakota, we visited many churches as ambassadors of the Bible camp we worked for. We met so many wonderful people, drank a lot of great coffee in church fellowship halls, and saw God’s glory across the wide expanse of North Dakota sky.

During one particular church visit that autumn, we were sitting in a wooden pew toward the front of the sanctuary. It had been a lovely service that included several favorite hymns, a robust “greeting of your neighbor,” and was now concluding with the prayers. As the pastor led us, he prayed a few sentences about one topic (our church liturgy calls this a prayer petition) and the congregation responded to each with, “Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.” None of this liturgy was new to me. However, my ears perked up when he began a petition focused on the harvest.

He prayed for the right amount of rain — that neither flooding nor drought would damage the local fields. He prayed for daylight to last longer so the farmers could accomplish as much work as possible during the swift daytime hours. He prayed for a healthy harvest, a fruitful return on years of hard work and backbreaking labor.

Praying for the harvest was new to me, as I’d been born and raised in the suburbs. As I peeked around at those praying around me, it gripped my heart to see their faces upturned and clenched, their hands tightly folded, and their heads nodding in agreement with the petition.

The whole prayer experience only lasted about three minutes and occurred more than ten years ago now, yet I’ve never forgotten it. Each year when harvest season arrives, I pray for farmers — for the sun to shine, the rain to fall appropriately, the labor of their hands to be prosperous, and for a rich reward for all their work.

We may not all be farmers, but we can certainly pray for an abundant, beautiful harvest in our own lives. Isn’t that what we hope for — in our mothering, family, marriages and friendships? Proof of the hard work we’ve done, the care and attention we’ve lavished, and the focus and determination it took along the way?

Every farmer knows the result isn’t entirely up to them. They can love and care for their fields, and still, the crops can be wiped out by a flood, drought, insect infestation, or other act of nature. Every mother knows this too — that she can pour her whole heart into raising her kids and they still may not turn out the way she had hoped. Nature takes its course and we can simply nurture the results.

Whatever the harvest may yield, God promises to care for us and for those we love. To provide all that we truly need. And to send the rain at the right time.

Lord, help me trust the harvest. You hold it in Your hands, and they are more than capable of producing a fruitful crop. Bless the farmers in this season of stress and labor. Amen.

Ponder:

  1. Do you trust God to provide all that you truly need? Why or why not?
  2. What are you harvesting in your life, in your marriage, in your work, and/or in your children?

Extra Shot:

Carve out the stem section of a mini-pumpkin (you can use a large drill bit or a carving knife.). Insert an electric taper candle in the hole, and voilà! You have a beautiful and non-flammable harvest time decoration. I like to use several different pumpkins and gourds, placing them in the center of my dining room table and using both taper and tealight-sized electric candles.

This is one of twenty-five autumn devotions found in Anna E. Rendell’s book, Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul: 25 Devotions for Autumn. As one who finds glory and beauty especially during autumn days, Anna’s book includes twenty-five days worth of inspiration sure to help you embrace and soak up the season too. Each day brings you Scripture, devotions, prayer, reflection questions to ponder throughout your day, and an “extra shot” — inspiring quotes, recipes, and fun autumn ideas — like espresso for your soul! You’ll also find lined pages for your own autumn reflections, nine of Anna’s favorite autumn recipes, and and a bonus devotion for the start of Advent.

Also, brand new this year — listen to Seven Days of Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul, as read by Anna! Stream each episode and give yourself a moment as Anna reads seven full excerpts from the book.

It’s Anna’s prayer that the pause found on the pages of this book would provide you a moment of peace. A break in the hustle. A chance to savor this fleeting and favored season. . . and we’re giving away FIVE copies! To enter, just leave a comment telling us what you love about autumn or how you’ve experienced a harvest season.

Then, join Anna and Becky Keife tomorrow, September 22, at 11:00am central for a conversation about autumn, God’s goodness, and Pumpkin Spice for Your Soul.

Giveaway open to US addresses only and will close on September 24, 2021 at 11:59pm central.

When Difficult Change Makes You Scared to Be Happy Again

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Sometime ago, a couple of big changes clobbered into me, knocking me clean over. When the first change was thrown at me, I thought resolution would never come. But it did, and at that time, I celebrated like it was my job with champagne, hugs, and high-fives.

That celebration brought gloriously good feelings that lasted one whole month, and then the second thing knocked into me in such a way it made the first hit feel like a simple poke in the ribs. Believe me when I say the second change was an ordeal with a capital O.

That second change dragged on and on and on. And while I went about taking care of my family and home by stirring the pasta sauce and buying the birthday gifts and doing the next thing that needed to be done on a particular day, I didn’t have the same joy I had before. I felt guarded and suspicious and so, so tired. No, I felt haggard. Even after positive resolution finally came (thank you, God!), my heart couldn’t shake that worn-out feeling. Grateful? Oh yes, infinitely so. But joyful? Not so much.

So I carried this heavy feeling that wasn’t depression yet wasn’t my normal self, and eventually I mentioned it to my life (and business) coach. I told her how confusing this period was because much of my circumstances had returned to normal-ish. “Why can’t I snap out of it,” I asked? And while I had family and friends who gave me safe, helpful places to process all the events, it was she who helped me name the message I’d somehow internalized inside:

If I become happy, something bad will happen again.

If I become happy, a difficult change that’s worse than the others will do me in.

Now, in my head I know I don’t have the power to control what happens beyond my own actions. Yet this lie-imposing-as-truth message pushed into the soil of my heart, and it grew and grew, watered by fear and a false sense of control.

At that moment, I realized I stood at a fork in the road: Was I going to believe that any change threatened to knock me outside of God’s protection and care, that He gets a kick out of pulling the rug out from under me? Or would I be able to rest in what I’d said to be true — that God is always for me and all that He allows into my life is for my benefit because He loves me?

I prayed and prayed, and one day the Lord gave me this message in my heart:

I move from abundance, not scarcity. Look at all the ways I’ve been faithful in the past, and know I’ll be faithful in the present and future.

I knew He wanted me to know that whatever changes come, He would not dole out crumbs to me. He doesn’t dole out crumbs to any of us. His Son Jesus is proof that He moves behind the scenes to set us up for the abundant life — even when what stands in plain sight seems anything but.

When I wrote my first book on the subject of change in 2014, I knew I’d already lived through a lot of transition. As a longtime military wife, change was the name of the game. And when my husband, David, retired from active duty, he and I continued to meet change in entirely new ways. We both lost our dads within six weeks of each other. Our relationship with our kids evolved as they grew up and out of the house. We’ve met health struggles and marital strains. We’ve watched loved ones fight uphill battles that might as well have mowed down our own hearts with our John Deere tractor.

And this says nothing of 2020, the year I tapped out most of When Change Finds You, when the pandemic became the undercurrent jostling so much change, tiny and tremendous.

A while ago, I drove to Denver to record the audiobook for When Change Finds You. And after reading that thing from top to bottom, I cried for two reasons. First, I cried because I believed in my bones that this book delivers what it promises — that God delivers good things through change. And second, I cried because I sensed real joy in my heart.

Difficult change that I didn’t want or ask for still affects me today. But I can see how the change of the past has grown good things, and I can know that present and future change will grow good things, too.

When we come to a fork in the road that asks us whether or not we will trust God to use our difficult change for good, may we know God is believable and His promises in the present are proven by His faithfulness in the past.

God moves from abundance, not scarcity. He will use this change for good because His presence — and His love — are here to stay.

May you and I persevere as we see how our hard change is written into a good life story along the way.

If you are looking for a companion as you travel your road of change, preorder my next book, When Change Finds You: 31 Assurances to Settle Your Heart When Life Stirs You Up.

What a Water Lily Plant Taught Me About Hope

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When we moved into our home, we were super excited to see the garden had a small garden pond. We soon learned it had seen better days because it was leaking. But since we enjoyed it so much, we decided to replace the old one with a new, bigger one so we could have fish. For years, we loved watching our two small fish grow. We named them, fed them, and made places for them to swim through and hide in from the hawks when needed.

Then came an unfortunate day.

We had a lightning storm, and the next day, we saw the fountain wasn’t running. My husband went out to find that we had lost more than the power the night before; we also lost our fish.

You don’t realize how much you could miss a couple of fish, but they had become part of our garden and a big part of our daily routine. After they were gone, we sort of neglected that part of the garden. We didn’t go out to that area daily, and the fountain and power stayed broken. We intended to clean it out and leave it empty until we found new fish, but this, that, and the other thing happened and we never got to it. One season turned into two, and while we worked on other areas of the garden, we didn’t work on the pond area. Also, the closest store that sold fish no longer carried them, so the pond stayed untended to, filled from rainfall, the water dark from algae and seasons of leaves falling in.

Then, one day, we saw something out on the water — something bright green. Below that dark water, through all this time, remained a water lily plant, and what we were witnessing was its lily pads! Remarkably, with no care and through algae, winters, and frozen pond seasons, this water lily survived. Soon after, up came a bloom! Stunningly beautiful pink and blush petals with a bright yellow center, the flower stood so tall and proud in the midst of that murky, neglected water.

This bloom was a true reminder to me of how powerful beauty is. It stopped me in my tracks and pulled me right in. All the busy thoughts and worries of the day just disappeared. Its striking beauty cut through all of it. It was  me and this thing of beauty — an intimate message from God, a light in the darkness that reminded me that God is near.

In beauty, I see God. In beauty, I see hope.

Through it, God tells me it’s all okay. He is right here showing me how He can turn anything into something beautiful, how He can come through any dark, murky hurt. He won’t leave me alone in the dark, and there is always hope. I’m reminded that there is so much more than my burdens and hurts, than the unknowns and struggles. Those things won’t last — because of Christ. And because of Him, there is beauty.

When we are in midst of the messes of life, when we just wish the pain would go away, it feels impossible to see even a glimmer of purpose or hope. But it’s there. Look for it. Focus on the hope that beauty can grow from the murkiest of places, like the water lily. God is purposeful. If your season feels useless, know it is anything but useless to Him. He can use the murkiest of times in our lives to create immense light and great beauty.

And to be sure His first message wasn’t missed, another bright, beautiful bloom of hope blossomed from our neglected, murky pond! So, take heart. There is purpose. Beauty is here. God is near. He gives “bouquets of roses instead of ashes, messages of joy instead of news of doom, a praising heart instead of a languid spirit” (Isaiah 61:3 MSG).

Is Jesus’ Sweetness on My Menu?

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I’m in my kitchen looking through old cookbooks for a recipe for Church Social Frappé. If you remember, the frothy concoction was made with fruit sherbet and lemon-lime soda pop.

Hardly anybody back then was counting calories or sugar content. It just tasted good. Served up at church socials from a fancy bowl with a pretty ladle, it was splashed into Styrofoam cups, at the least, or fancy glasses, at the most, and most everybody enjoyed it. I hadn’t thought of the treat, however, in years.

But when I was asked to come up with a recipe for an online book club kit for my new historical mystery novel, I scoured my late mother’s cookbooks and came across all manner of “historical” delights — tuna macaroni casseroles, broccoli cheddar cheese quiches, stuffed party molds made jiggly and jumpy with neon orange Jello.

I’m not making fun. I happily ate those dishes. But for my online book club? I wanted something sophisticated, effortless, breezy, cool.

Simple enough, but it seemed like a hurdle too high to clear. And I knew why. What if people judged it? Judged me? Took one look at my mama’s Jello mold recipe and laughed?

Enter Jesus.

I let out a grateful breath.

He provides answers, miracles, and in fact, He even cooks them. Remember that scene in John 21 where His poor disciples fished all night but caught nothing? Obeying Him, they threw their nets on the other side of their boat, catching a haul so big they could hardly bring it it in. Realizing it’s Jesus who created the miracle, they come ashore to the wonder of this:

They saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread . . . [Then] Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”
John 21:9,15 (NIV)

The kindest of invitations, it was made to a denying Peter — and the other disciples who had abandoned Jesus — but it’s also made to us: Come and eat. 

I pay close attention. This is a reset, a lesson I need to learn.

First, Jesus Himself made a simple meal of fish and bread. Our Lord and Savior, yes, is doing the kitchen work. As one who comes from people who did kitchen work (my late grandmother worked as a “domestic” and my mother did maid work to pay for college), I’m compelled, seeing our Jesus in the same, humble role.

Paul pointed it out, too, that Jesus, “who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant . . . he humbled himself” (Philippians 2:6-8).

He didn’t worry about finding the “perfect” recipe. Nor did He bend over backwards to be the “perfect” host.

Such worries can take over when we gather — in a book club or anywhere else — both for the hostess and the guests. But more than the book or food or reason for getting together, Jesus invites us first to love. At His beachside breakfast, love was the main topic — and also His deepest question. Do you love me? (John 21:15-17). If we do, feed My sheep.

So, make the tuna or quiche or Jello, but offer it with love. 

Reading that, I put my cookbooks aside, take my evening shower, and slip on fresh pajamas and go to bed. Then, in the middle of the night, I awake from a deep sleep, sit up, and whisper a crazy word — frappé. Not because it’s perfect; it’s not. Not because it’s cool, definitely not. But because it stirs in me memories of a time and place — my little childhood church — where loving ladies in long, white gloves and fancy dresses sewn up on Singer sewing machines served up the frosty treat. It was sweet and pretty, and that made it good.

In fact, it was never fancy. But neither was the fish and bread that Jesus served.

The love was in Who served it — and for whom it was served. So, for your book club or small group, make the Church Social Frappé or get takeout. Jesus invites us to be brave enough to feed His sheep — not with fancy but with faith. Then our humble menus are always sweetened with His love.

Patricia’s online book club kit features her mother’s recipe for Church Social Frappé, to be served with mixed nuts, sugar cookies, and candy mints. Her mystery novel, All That Is Secret, was named a Parade Magazine “Mysteries We Love” pick for Fall 2021. Pre-order it here!