Rest for Your Soul + a Winter Recipe

Rest for Your Soul + a Winter Recipe

by 5 Comments

“Come to Me, all you who are weary  and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28 NIV 

The holiday season brightens our days with so much fun: cookie baking, attending Christmas pageants and plays, and enjoying festive get-togethers. But it also wears us out! All the shopping, planning, gift-wrapping, and so many other things take up our time as we try to juggle tasks at home and at work. We have so much on our minds and so many details to keep track of.

With everything going on, we would probably agree that weary is a word that truly describes how we feel. And we realize that we really need rest — we need to slow down and have moments of calm and quiet to soothe and restore our souls. We can only find this kind of deep rest through Jesus: “Come to Me, all you who are weary.  .  . Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28–29 NIV).  

Rest for our souls, or soul rest, is exactly the kind of rest we need — the kind that restores not only our bodies, but our minds, our hearts, and our spirits. To receive it, Jesus tells us to come to Him and learn from Him. We see many times in the Bible how He went away from the crowds that surrounded Him to a place of quiet — where He found rest and spent time in prayer with His Father:

“After dismissing the crowds, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray. Well into the night, He was there alone” (Matthew 14:23 CSB). And Luke 5:16 (The Message) tells us, “As often as possible Jesus withdrew to out-of-the-way places for prayer.” These times of prayer and quiet with God restored Him, and they can restore us too. Following the example of Jesus, we can experience true rest for our souls as we get away to a quiet place to spend time with God, praying, reading the Bible, meditating on Scripture, and spending time being “still” and listening to His voice.  

Throughout our hectic season, let’s find true, deep soul rest in Jesus. Let’s take a few moments to withdraw from the busyness in our days and spend quiet time with our loving Father. He knows our needs, cares, and all the things that overwhelm us, and there’s no load we carry that is too heavy for Him to lighten for us. Let’s come to Him to rest in His love, be filled with His peace, and be restored by His grace.  

Cranberry Quick Bread might be just what you’re needing for an easy winter breakfast! As it bakes, take time to pray, relax, and soak up some rest for your soul — from the generous supply that Jesus is always ready to provide.

Cranberry Quick Bread

You can use fresh or frozen cranberries in this loaf.

PREP: 15 MIN. | COOK: 45-50 MIN. | TOTAL TIME: 65 MIN. | SERVINGS: 10

Ingredients:

  • 1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
  • ¾ cup granulated sugar
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • ¼ teaspoon baking soda
  • ¼ teaspoon salt
  • 1 ½ teaspoons cinnamon
  • 1 large egg
  • ½ cup orange juice
  • 2 tablespoons butter, melted
  • 2 to 3 teaspoons orange extract
  • 1 ½ cups fresh or frozen cranberries, coarsely chopped

Instructions:

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F. Grease and flour an 8 x 4-inch loaf pan; set aside.
  2. In a large bowl, blend flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon; set aside.
  3. In small bowl, mix the egg, orange juice, melted butter, and orange extract. Add to the dry ingredients in the large bowl, stirring just until moistened. Fold in the chopped cranberries and stir until evenly distributed in batter.
  4. Pour batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.
  5. Cool in pan for 5 to 10 minutes, then remove loaf from pan and cool completely on a wire rack. Then slice and serve. You can also serve slices spread with softened butter or cream cheese.

The Simple Recipes for Busy Seasons Devotional Cookbook is designed for hectic moments, offering heartfelt devotions that encourage you to breathe, pause, and find peace in God’s presence. Each devotion comes alongside quick, wholesome recipes that bring your family together without adding to your stress. Find many more recipes and devotions like the one above in Simple Recipes for Busy Seasons — pick up your copy today!

Do You Need to Offer Forgiveness This Christmas?

by 13 Comments

Dad asked if he could drive over to have dinner with us before Christmas.

It was early December 2022. My breath caught when my adult kids relayed his request. Their dad mostly disappeared after our divorce in November 2019. Earlier that year, I’d become an empty-nester as well. Then, the pandemic occurred a few months later. So much had changed. By 2022, I was finally feeling like I’d settled into my next normal. Now this.

The morning of their visit, my kids decided to meet with their dad at my middle child’s apartment. I saw how nervous my kids were, so I volunteered to make dinner. I settled on Spaghetti Bolognese, a comforting, familiar, once-upon-a-time family favorite. I knew they would enjoy it, but my offer was also selfish. I needed to keep myself busy and out of their business.

I started with searing the beef. Turns out the stove wasn’t the only hot thing in my kitchen. I felt a hot anger rise in me as I cooked. Our hard family history replayed as I patted the meat dry and fried the bacon. Post-divorce, I’d spent several years helping my kids pick up the broken pieces. My kids and in-law kids were all home for the holidays. I was finally looking forward to Christmas.

God. Come on! You mean he’s just going to swoop in like nothing happened?

I stirred the seasonings into a big pot — the one I used to make this meal in my old house. In our “before” life. Standing at the stove, my mind mentally stirred the pot of memories. Faith and fury warred within me. In one moment, I remembered the years of working hard in therapy, Al-Anon, and Divorce Care. In the next moment, I remembered all the broken promises and broken hearts.

I could feel my healed wounds throb, still tender.

Not wishing to return to the days before healing, I turned down the heat on the stove and stepped out of the kitchen. The kids were away Christmas shopping, and the sauce needed hours to simmer. In that unoccupied time, I sensed God’s invitation to guide me to a fresh forgiveness, albeit at an unexpected time and in an unexpected way.

Forgiveness is woven into the fabric of the Christmas story, even if it isn’t center stage. While we prefer mangers to crosses, Christmas always leads to Easter. Just before Jesus died for our sins, He showed us how to forgive, even when others weren’t sorry. Jesus showed us how to practice forgiveness at an unexpected time and in an unexpected way.

Previously beaten and weak, now with nails pounded into His hands and feet, Jesus saw His betrayers all around Him. He didn’t deserve such treatment, and He was innocent of the stated crimes. Yet Jesus cried out:

 “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.”
Luke 23:34 NLT

His request was simple: Forgive them.

As He was hurting.

Even though he didn’t deserve it.

Isn’t this when forgiveness is hard for us?

When we’re still hurting.

When we haven’t received the apology.

When the consequences of their actions shattered our lives.

Yet, Jesus forgave at an unexpected time and in an unexpected way so that we could do the same.

Even at Christmas? Yes.

“…forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
Ephesians 4:23 NLT

“Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.”
Colossians 3:13 NLT

Sensing God’s invitation to forgive, I stood in my kitchen and prayed. My tears streamed onto the floor. God, I hate that this is our family story. Thank You for Your gracious love and kindness that has carried us the past few years. Thank You for the forgiveness that Jesus has given me. I need to forgive him again for the pain we went through and the consequences we are living with. Thank You for the freedom and healing that comes through forgiveness. Amen.

That prayer was hard, but it blessed me. It was a step of obedience so God could replace hurt with healing. This prayer may be helpful to you.

A few hours later, I wrapped the hearty sauce, noodles, salad, and dessert for the kids to take to dinner. While I wept after closing the door behind them, I wiped away grateful tears, not sad ones. Thankful for a God who provides freedom from bitterness and hurt through forgiving others.

Perhaps God may nudge your heart this Christmas season to offer forgiveness at an unexpected time and in an unexpected way. Let go so that God can fill that hurting space in your heart with His love and peace.

Barb Roose writes about forgiving others and embracing God’s forgiveness in her six-week Bible study, Matthew: Pray Like This, part of the Inscribed Collection through Harper Collins Christian Publishing.

The Mortifying Moment I’m Still Talking About

by 18 Comments

Seventh-grade cheerleading.

I’d finally achieved a status-changing moment. I’d made the squad, and it was time to buy the coveted uniform. The school provided the skirt, but we had to purchase the sweater. This was back in the day when Izod Lacoste crew-neck sweaters were all the rage. Remember those basic sweaters with the cute little alligator in the corner? That tiny emblem carried big meaning. It whispered “elite,” “trendy,” and “definitely more expensive than the one hanging on the rack right beside it.”

At twelve years old, that little alligator symbolized everything right in my junior-high world —until we walked into the mall and my mom turned over the sweater’s price tag.

She did the math quickly. And in a split second, my utopic junior-high dream of owning that designer sweater evaporated.

“Jennifer, we are not spending $30 more for that sweater just because it’s a designer name when I can get the same exact sweater at JCPenney without the alligator on it.”

“But Mom… the cheerleading coach said it has to be a yellow Izod sweater. I cannot be the only one with a different sweater!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Her words did not comfort me. We left the mall with a generic yellow sweater, and I was convinced my cheerleading career was doomed.

Little did I know she was about to give me a life lesson that would shape not only my view of finances but my understanding of true worth — one I’d later pass down to my own children (with the same pushback).

At twelve, I needed the reminder that our value isn’t defined by stuff, the brand names we wear, or the money we spend. Our character isn’t shaped by “keeping up with the Joneses” — or by a logo on a sweater. Indeed, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7 NIV).

Decades later, it’s a reminder we all need.

That evening, my mom grabbed a pair of my dad’s Izod socks — yes, socks. She snipped off the alligator and sewed it onto my cheerleading sweater.

I. WAS. MORTIFIED.

Can you even believe she would do that? Is your seventh-grade self feeling my pain?

But — voilà. An identical sweater for a fraction of the price.

Had I kept quiet, no one would’ve known. But of course, I made a global announcement to the entire seventh grade. And yet, that moment left a mark. A mark for life — for the better.

From an early age, my mom taught me the value of living within one’s means. She modeled budgeting, comparison shopping, and saving where we could so we could spend where it mattered. She knew the difference between wants and needs. She knew when quality was worth paying for — and when it wasn’t. That cheer sweater was a perfect example. I would never wear it again, so why break the bank?

This memory resurfaced several Christmases ago when our teenage son asked for Ralph Lauren clothing. With five children and very little money, we kept to a strict budget, so I asked him, “Knowing our limit, would you like a few brand-new items, or do I have your blessing to hit the thrift stores and get you an entire Polo wardrobe for the same price?”

He thought for a moment and then agreed — as long as I promised to pick out “cool” things.

The result? Ten, instead of two, Polo items under the tree — many practically new.  Years later, we still honor a simple Christmas budget even though grandbabies could have anything they wish for. We’ve learned that experiences, slow moments, and shared traditions matter far more than any stack of wrapped gifts. Ask your family what they remember about last Christmas — it’s almost never the presents. It’s the presence.

But every December, the world tries to convince us otherwise. Leading up to Christmas, I feel the frantic race — not just to fill the calendar but to fill the empty space beneath the tree. It’s so easy to slip into the pressure of more: more gifts, more deals, more rushing.

Yet when we feel obligated to purchase gifts we can’t afford, we drift from the heart of the season. Debt steals joy. Comparison steals peace. But presence — real presence with family, friends, and the Lord — cultivates something that lasts.

And the simplicity of the manger continues to speak. Jesus arrived in humility, not surrounded by shiny packaging. His coming wasn’t extravagant in appearance, yet it was the most extravagant act of love the world has ever known. There is freedom in embracing a slower, simpler, spiritually deeper Christmas — a celebration where we model stewardship and gratitude, and where love isn’t measured by our credit card statement.

Instead of being swept into the holiday whirlwind, let’s anchor ourselves in the truth that Christmas is not about accumulating but about adoring. Scripture reminds us in Luke 2:10–11, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.”

That is the message worth celebrating, worth passing down, worth shaping our spending, our schedules, and our traditions.

And sometimes, all it takes is a yellow sweater and a stolen sock alligator to remind us what truly matters — both then and now.

The Secret to a Powerful Prayer Life

by 56 Comments

I opened my arms, embraced my son, and brought his head close to my chest.

He hurt himself, yet again. Just four days ago, it was a decorative figurine that fell and hit him on the head. This time, he tossed his neck back just a little too far. He’s tearing up, now — and I see the pain in his face. So I hold him until it doesn’t hurt anymore. This is the life of those who care for kids, isn’t it? We kiss their foreheads, wipe their tears, and hand out hugs like unconditional grace. Lately, though, I’ve been going beyond simply covering up boo-boos with Band-Aids. Instead, I’ve been teaching my kids (and myself) to take our pain to God through prayer.

I’ve come to realize the uncomfortable truth that pain is persistent. It swells and surges; it shrinks away. We cover pain with Band-Aids only for the pangs to come and go and come again. With this ebb and flow comes the emotional rollercoaster of feelings like fear, anxiety, worry, panic, and helplessness. It is a frightening thing to be in pain, or to witness a loved one in pain, or to watch the world around you reeling in pain. Are we ever not in search of a cure, a calm to quell the pain and panic of being a person alive on an imperfect planet?

I am finding there is but one thing, one tool, for those wrought with worry and pain. There is but one hope, one promise of help, for hurting hearts heavy with trauma, tears, and fears: We can meet our pain and panic practically with prayer.

This is not so much about spirituality as it is about strategy. We all can leverage and lean into the practice of prayer. In this, our hearts are refined to recognize that our pain may be ever-present, but so is our God. So, from my heart to yours, here are a few practical tips and tools I’d learned along the way. The point of sharing these practices is not to propose them as prescriptions for the perfect prayer life, lest we think there is such a thing. Rather, my hope is to remind us all that the secret to a powerful prayer life is simply seeing prayer as a practical tool that can be tailored to our every season.

Pray about “little” pains.
I’ve been teaching my kids the habit of pausing in the most unassuming moments. A scraped knee. A lost toy. A bumped head. A stuffy nose. These are all prompts for taking our pain to God. And, practically speaking, when we practice taking small pains to God, we pave the way for taking our big pains to God, too.

Pray when prompted.
In college, I volunteered with a ministry in the Bronx that served the youth. Our team leader taught us how to open our eyes to see anything and everything as a prompt to pray. Someone’s shoes by the door. Pray for God to protect them wherever they go. Sirens in the distance. Pray for God’s peace to surround those who are suffering.

Pray at every meal.
My sons and I pray at every meal, lunch included. These prayers often contain silent pauses and silly jokes. They are never perfect, nor are they eloquently long or robust. Rather, I trust that this pragmatic approach to praying before each meal will give my sons a tangible way to revere God at all times, whether we are in want or in plenty.

Pray without ceasing.
My late grandfather once told me about a story he’d heard from a theologian who would “rarely pray for thirty minutes at a time, but never go thirty minutes without praying.” This has stuck with me ever since, offering the reminder that I can talk to God directly, no matter how small the pain or great the grief. I can bring my praise, wonderings, wounds, and worries. Like a counselor on the other end of a crisis hotline, God is available 24/7 every day of the week.

Pray with praise.
Another thing I’ve been teaching my sons is to praise God when we pray. Effortlessly, it’s so easy to name our needs, listing a litany of complaints and pains when we pray. But hope is healed and pain relieved when we approach our prayers by giving God praise.

Pray with a playlist.
A simple way to soothe our hearts through prayer is with song. Pray along with songs that posture your heart to hear from God, including instrumental music, which gives space for praying your own words and allowing prayers to surface. The beautiful thing about having a go-to prayer playlist is that it can always be shared with a friend or fellow sojourner.

Pray while someone’s talking.
I often make it a habit of praying for someone while they’re sharing something heavy or hard with me. We can learn to listen to our loved ones while also simultaneously listening to God, asking, “God, what would You have me say to encourage this person or speak truth to their heart?”

Pray on paper.
When all else fails, I have found solace in the safety of pouring out my prayers on the page. I return to this practice in seasons when speaking aloud feels unsafe or unwelcome, or when I need a tactile way to make sense of my swirling thoughts and emotions.

Friends, in the spirit of these words, please share a prayer request in the comments. I’d love to pray for you. Today and always, through prayer, may you find yourself held by God — like a mother cradling her kid close to her chest, so much so, your pains no longer hurt anymore.

Advent Is the Language of Heaven

by 11 Comments

The world we live in doesn’t often give us a chance to slow down and catch our breath. It’s fast-paced and doesn’t show signs of stopping.

Life happens. And it happens again and again and again. There are trials and tests and struggles. There is loss and hurt and change.

Even as we speak, I am in the middle of a transitional season. There are decisions to be made as soon as possible. There are several questions looming over me with no apparent answer. I’m honestly at both a crossroads and a loss. I don’t know which way to go or what to do.

I don’t normally do well with change. And this situation is no different. I very much wish I could say that I’m excited about what’s to come, but I’m not. I’m a bit fearful and worried. I’m concerned about the outcome. There are a million ways this could play out . . . some of them great and some, not so much.

When unexpected seasons come my way, I often think about Peter and the disciples in Matthew 14:25-32. When Jesus was walking on the water, the disciples thought He was a ghost and even cried out in fear. I understand that all too well. Jesus told them to not be afraid and to take courage. Those were words He had spoken numerous times before. Peter locked eyes with his Savior, stepped out of the boat, and walked on the water toward his Lord. Then, He took his eyes off of Jesus and focused on the wind and the waves. Immediately, Peter began to sink. Jesus graciously rescued him in the midst of all of his doubt. This, I also understand well.

How many times am I Peter in the story? How many times are you? How often do we take our eyes off of Jesus and fix them on the natural and temporal things of the earth? How many times do we see the Lord moving, and yet we still doubt?

During this Christmas season, I also think about Mary and her season of transition. She was just a girl with very little idea of the gravity of what God was asking of her. Luke 1:26-38 tells of the angel Gabriel appearing to Mary, detailing how she would conceive Jesus by the Holy Spirit. She was greatly troubled at his words. Again, God’s reassurance was to not be afraid. Mary’s response was that she was the Lord’s servant and that His will should be fulfilled.

What faith did it take for both Peter and Mary to look upon Christ, to trust Him, and to obey, whether it was for a moment or a lifetime? They were both in unforeseen circumstances. They were both met with a test of their faith. They were both challenged by where they would set their attentions.

We are faced with the same decision every day. It is ridiculously easy for me to look to the right and to the left. I often pride myself on being extremely independent and self-sufficient. I’m a problem solver. But, only one actually has the power to say that their word will never fail. Guess what? It’s not me.

The season of Advent is the perfect opportunity for us to slow down, remember the Lord’s faithfulness, and focus on Christ in the midst of the chaos surrounding us.

When Jesus was born, He came into the world bringing gifts to the broken, the weary, the lost, the hurting, and the confused. He came with the gift of hope. Titus 2:13 describes Jesus as our blessed hope. He is the gift of hope to the hopeless. He is the very reason why you and I can look forward with hope, knowing that His plans are for our good. He will never fail us. He is our faithful Father.

1 John 4:7-21 repeatedly tells us of all the ways in which God is love. It is because of His great love for us that He sent Jesus to save a dying world from their sin. It is through His love that we can love Him and love others. God’s love is what empowers us to even know Him, and to wait for Christ’s return. His love sustains us when the wind and the waves seem to engulf us. His love won’t let us drown.

Jesus’ birth was a great joy to Mary and Joseph and those who were foretold of His coming. There are numerous verses to speak of Jesus’ joy being made complete in us and His joy being our strength and finding joy in His presence. It is through His joy that I can consider it pure joy when I encounter trials. He is the lifter of our heads and our strong tower.

Jesus is called Prince of Peace in Isaiah 9:6. And 2 Thessalonians 3:16 calls Him the Lord of peace and then goes on to say He gives peace at all times, in every way. Repeatedly God is offering peace to His children freely. His peace is what anchors us to Himself, to His heart, and to His promises. We can rest in knowing His grace is sufficient for us no matter the thorn in our flesh.

Advent is the language of Heaven…hope, love, joy, and peace. And Jesus’ life spoke this language.

I am choosing to speak Heaven’s language throughout endless uncertainty.

I will gaze into His hope.

I will bask in His love.

I will dance in His joy.

I will rest in His peace.

If you find yourself in need of the hope, love, joy, and peace that are only found in the Lord, I’d love to pray for you!

Written by Karina Allen, from the (in)courage archives. 

It’s Okay to Cry. After All, Jesus Did.

by 25 Comments

When I was a young girl, I learned a song that said, “Make new friends, but keep the old.” When I grew a little older, I fell in love with the Michael W. Smith song that said, “Friends are friends forever if the Lord’s the Lord of them.” I sang both of those songs with my whole heart – and I believed them with that whole heart too.

I’m a collector and a keeper and a stay-in-touch-at-all-costs person. I’ve rarely chosen to end a friendship, even to my own detriment at times, preferring instead to hold on like Wilson Phillips taught us.

But it turns out some friends aren’t forever. And some journeys or relationships or connections eventually come to an end.

This is a lesson I’ve unhappily learned many times over the past few decades, and it’s one that’s smacked me in the face – multiple times! – this month.

Last week I experienced two significant losses. One a person and one a thing – though a vitally important-to-me thing. Neither was an actual death, though to be honest, I feel nearly as sad as if it were. Goodbyes and endings can be devastating.

And to top it all off, I was reminded of a dear friendship that had faded away despite years of BFFNRFIP (best friends forever, no really, forever, I promise) vibes. It was a rough week!

Like many losses, these recent situations have brought with them the added layer of being difficult to describe. Life is complicated, and people don’t always understand what we’re going through. They mean well, though. I know they do, and I try to assume the best intentions of even the most careless comments.

But when we experience a loss, and those around us disregard or try to rewrite our grief – even when they’re simply trying to make us feel better – it hurts. It can even make us feel worse! I’ve found that even the most well-intended offerings of “everything works out for the best” and “you’ll be stronger in the end” actually amplify my pain by not allowing it space to breathe.

Do I understand the reason a person had to leave? Yes.

Can I comprehend the reason a thing is coming to an end? Yes.

Do I see why these things had to happen now, one suddenly and one after a long road of warning and waiting? Yes, that too.

And do I still believe that God wants the best for me and is with me and is in control, even in all this? Yes, yes, yes.

But am I also really, really sad?

YES!

And therein lies the complicated reality of loss. More than one thing can be true at the same time. I can understand what’s happened and why it’s happened and still be sad. I can be completely confused about those things, but still trust God and His good plans, and still be sad. I can see why a move or change or decision needed to be made and still be sad. I can hold onto the good memories and be grateful for all that came before and still be sad! I can believe without a doubt that we will all eventually be fine and still be sad!

Jesus understands all of this.

When He arrived in the village of Bethany, where His good friends lived, Jesus was visibly grieved by the fact that one of those friends (Lazarus) had died. Even though He already knew it had happened and even though He also knew He was going to call Lazarus back from death in just a few minutes, He was sad.

Jesus could see and understand every angle of this situation. He knew the future and the reasons. He was confident in what His Father was about to do and how it would affect everyone involved, physically and emotionally.

And yet, when Jesus saw His friends grieving, He cried.

When Jesus faced the injustice of death and the depth of emotions felt by Lazarus’s family and friends, He cried.

When Jesus walked through that village and realized how little His followers understood about Him and His promises, He cried.

Jesus wept that day, because we can be deeply distressed even when we understand all the things. Jesus wept, because it’s possible to have faith and hope AND grief and anger. Jesus wept, because sometimes this world is too much to bear.

Jesus wept – and it’s okay if we do too.

Cling to this:

“Jesus wept.”
John 11:35

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.”
Psalm 34:18

I suspect I’m not the only one facing a loss this season. If that’s you, I want you to know that it’s okay to be sad.

Whether it’s something that’s just happened or an old scar that still stings, it’s okay to feel the pain. Whether a change or a loss was sudden or something you’d been warned was coming, it’s okay to grieve. Whether you’re missing a person or a thing, a place or a situation, it’s okay to be sad.

If you’re sad this season, I pray you create and protect space for yourself to feel your feelings, to experience the grief, to let it all out, and lean on the God who knows grief well.

 

The One Story That Breathes True Peace

by 39 Comments

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. 

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. 

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” 

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
    and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” 

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” 

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
Luke 2:1-20 NIV 

May you let these ancient words sink deep into your soul. 

It may be the first time you’ve read these words, or perhaps this is the first time in a long time that you’ve really read them. Maybe you’re somewhere in the middle, slowly losing steam as the hustle and bustle of the season has swept you along. 

No matter where your heart is today, pause, reflect, and rest in the story of the shepherds and the straw, of new decrees and new parents, of heavenly hosts and a baby King. What a wonderful story of a wonderful God! 

May the twinkling glory of the Christmas season and story breathe peace and life into your heart right now. 

As we step into the second week of Advent — a season marked by peace—may this familiar story remind you that God’s peace often meets us right in the middle of our mess and our uncertainty. Just as the angels spoke “peace on earth” over frightened shepherds, so God speaks peace over you today — steady, gentle, and stronger than anything you’re facing.

Advent invites us to slow down, breathe deep, and welcome the nearness of the One who brings true peace to restless hearts.

If you’re carrying something heavy today…
If you’re longing for calm in the chaos…
If you need God’s peace to settle in a tender place…

You’re invited to share your heart below. Leave a comment with a prayer request or a word you’re holding onto in this second week of Advent. And as you scroll, pause to pray for another sister who shares. Let’s embody the angels’ proclamation together — a community of women receiving God’s peace and extending it to one another.

God Is With Us in Seasons of Transition

by 21 Comments

When my husband left the Army, we settled into what I thought would be our forever home in the suburbs of Atlanta. We renovated, planted roots, and built a community. For the first time in years, I felt like we could finally exhale.

We poured ourselves into that house — choosing the perfect marble backsplash for the kitchen, laying subway tile in a herringbone pattern behind the vanity. We hosted pool parties and play dates, built friendships in the neighborhood, and found a rhythm of belonging. I even began to imagine our future there: prom pictures on the staircase, graduation photos on the front lawn, holiday gatherings where the kids would return home as adults.

But just two and a half years later, we were uprooted again — this time to Tennessee.

Leaving was hard. Our three young children had to say goodbye to their teachers and friends. I had to release the dream of raising them in the house we had worked so hard to shape into a home. And though God had clearly prepared the way, the decision came fast, only three months from sensing His nudge to watching the moving truck drive away.

That’s the thing about grief — it isn’t only mourning what was, but also what could have been. I grieved not just the home we created, but the future I had envisioned within its walls.

We arrived in Tennessee the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The new house was filled with boxes. Rooms echoed with unfamiliar silence. My childrens’ bedrooms didn’t yet feel like theirs. I felt displaced, tired, and raw. Everything familiar was gone, and I longed for something steady to hold onto.

That’s when I noticed it: a box labeled “Christmas stuff” sitting in the middle of the living room. Somehow it had escaped being shoved to the garage. Without hesitation, I opened it. Out came the garland, the lights, and the nativity set. With packing tape still handy from the move, I secured the garland to our new staircase. The tree went up before most of the kitchenware had been unpacked. The nativity scene claimed its spot before the books found their shelves.

In the middle of the unknown, I turned to what was known.

That December, our house didn’t feel finished, but it did feel like home. The glow of the tree reminded me of Emmanuel — God with us (Matthew 1:23 NIV). The garland, draped in a new place, reminded me that traditions can travel with us. And the nativity set whispered that the presence of Jesus, not the stability of circumstances, is what truly anchors us.

I think of Mary and Joseph, far from home the night Jesus was born. Surrounded by unfamiliar smells of animals and hay, they cradled the greatest gift the world has ever known. Their story reminds us that even in displacement, God’s presence brings belonging.

Home was together, in the midst of unpacked boxes, beneath the glow of the Christmas lights, with Christ at the center. When life uproots us, we often grasp for something steady. For me that year, it was Christmas decorations. For others, it might be a daily routine, a favorite Scripture, or the embrace of a loved one. Whatever it looks like, clinging to what is true and eternal will steady us in seasons of transition.

Because no matter where we are or how “unfinished” life feels, God is with us. And His presence is what makes any place home, even when home isn’t where you thought it would be.

The Sacrifice of Thanksgiving

by 26 Comments

Recently, our three-year-old grandson became angry and ran off, racing barefoot down our street in the cold; then our son-in-law called from the back of an ambulance to say he’d been hit by a car; and finally one of our dogs peed in the middle of the floor while our grandchildren were picking up their toys, prompting a quick evacuation of the room.

Each incident was upsetting on its own, but all three — within thirty minutes — sent my stress level skyrocketing.

On a Saturday morning, I discovered that the coil on our garage door had snapped overnight, leaving my car stuck inside. I borrowed my husband’s car for the hour-long drive to attend a baby shower, during which my youngest son called to say he was heading to the emergency room after urgent care diagnosed him with a partially collapsed lung. He assured me he was fine, just fine, and to continue on my way without missing the shower.

He remained hospitalized for three days.

We’re going through such a stretch of hard times that days like these feel like the rule, not the exception. After our daughter’s death in June and the shattering of my arm last summer, I’ve had my fill of physical and emotional trauma and hospitals.

God doesn’t owe me a life of sunshine and roses; I would choose mercy over what I deserve any day. Still, I started joking to my husband that, since things were so rough, maybe I would be long-listed in a writing contest with a significant monetary prize I’d entered, or win a giveaway for Braves’ center fielder Michael Harris’s Bronco (my dream car).

It was a joke. I was joking. What were the chances of either one? The writing prize was so enticing that over 22,000 people entered the contest; likely, even more entered the SUV giveaway. But as tough days piled up like cars in a crash on I-285, I told that joke so many times that a little voice inside whispered, “Someone’s got to win. Why not me?”

A Sunday morning blowup occurred while I was reading the writing prize announcement. (The devil must love it when our tempers flare as we get ready for church.) Although my sweet husband was convinced that I would make the list, I didn’t. At church, I spent the service in the nursery, crying while my three-year-old grandson, whose life has been turned upside down just like mine, repeatedly told me he hated me. That afternoon, I watched the winner accept the keys to the Bronco on the field before the season’s final game.

My grandson’s meltdown was tough enough, but did both of my long-shot high hopes have to vanish on the same day?

At my daughter’s celebration of life, my neighborhood girlfriends (whom God surely put in my life for such a time as this) gave me a book of encouraging stories. One thought from the collection often comes to mind:

If I don’t notice God’s presence when things are going well, I won’t recognize Him when things are hard either.

Like a squirrel gathers nuts for winter, I seek His face during rare peaceful moments to sustain me on days when life feels bleak. While driving to the baby shower, I listed my blessings out loud in the car. On that Sunday when the disappointments came one after another, I spent the afternoon at Truist Park watching the Braves with my favorite pitcher on the mound, and I consciously soaked it all in.

I took a screenshot on my phone to remember the date, the time, and the song my grandchildren and I belted through open windows on a sunny day, in a light moment at a heavy time.

Lately, I wander through the woods behind our house. Fallen leaves crunch beneath my feet; when the wind blows, they patter to the ground like raindrops. I crouch to touch soft, spongy clumps of green moss. God reveals Himself in the gentle flow of water over rocks in the stream and in a gnarled tree with a hollow trunk and a few leafy branches up high.

I’m thankful when I see God’s blessings in my life or notice Him in the world around me. Psalm 116:17 (KJV) refers to thanksgiving as a sacrifice: “I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord.”

The sacrifice of thanksgiving is an offering of gratitude to a holy God, praising Him for who He is, regardless of our circumstances, seeking His presence on the highest mountaintops and in the deepest valleys.

Sometimes grief is so raw and deep that even if God heaped fresh blessings upon us, it wouldn’t dull the pain. The hits keep coming with no end in sight. It’s hard to see God when sorrow obscures our path, but the more attuned we become to His presence when things go well, the easier it will be to find Him when things get tough. He is here. Always.

When Christmas Needs to Look Different This Year

by 9 Comments

I love to prepare for Christmas. With four kids and their loved ones staying at our home for multiple days, with all the event planning, menu making, gift buying, card sending, and present wrapping, Christmas isn’t just an ordinary game. It’s my Super Bowl.

But for the first year in the several decades that I have hosted Christmas, all of that has to go out the undecorated window. About six months ago, I came down with long COVID — and everything in our lives changed. For some reason, in the back of my mind, I thought I’d get a pass for Christmas celebrations. But my body said no — that has to go into the bucket of everything else you can’t do like you’ve always done.

So this year, capacity is lower. But Christmas isn’t canceled; it’s clarified.

It’s amazing how I’ve let holiday traditions and expectations start out innocently enough. “That looks fun!” or “But we’ve always done it that way!” I walked down the path of other people’s perfection and let those prickly burrs hitch a ride on me, and I can’t seem to brush them off.

As I wallow in my own despair of things not being the way I dreamed, I need to keep reminding myself that the first Christmas wasn’t hosted. It was announced and received.

And this year, we will do the same. We’re trading performance for presence.

Luke 2:10–11 (NIV) says, “But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.’”

The angel announced the presence of God, and that is what we are going to celebrate —  the nonnegotiable aspects of Christmas:

  • Faith: Big corporations do everything they can to pull our hearts away from Christ and center them on buying our way into relationships with those around us. It takes a huge amount of focus to concentrate on Jesus in this season as the reason to celebrate. The way we can do that is to focus on how Jesus behaved, and then follow His model. Giving to those in need, feeding the poor. Yes, going to church and worshiping is part of it, but in this season of pressure and performance, we honor Him by choosing presence over presents — quiet service, shared tables, simple worship.
  • Joy: When life is at its most difficult, joy is an act of resistance. We not only find the small things that bring us joy, but we also do the small things that will invite joy into someone else’s life as well.
  • People: In this season of cart filling and calendar cramming, we keep it holy by doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly — one simple act at a time. One person at a time.

So what does that look like in practical ways?

  • Faith: Focus on one simple practice. It might look different for you than for us. My family will center our worship on Scripture reading and a short prayer. Others may concentrate on sponsoring a meal or serving at an event for the community. Whatever way faith plays out in your Christmas season, gratitude for the coming of our Savior, rather than society’s expectations, should drive your worship.
  • Joy: Plan one moment that sparks delight. Our favorite is a drive to see Christmas lights. We start off with In-N-Out Burger, then follow the map we’ve created for the best lights in town. For the grand finish, we’ll end with hot chocolate from a local coffee shop. We’ve been doing this basic routine for twenty years, and it’s the highlight of our season. We also make a couple of our family’s favorite desserts to keep the joy in our celebration. (Cranberry-white chocolate-macadamia nut cookies, anyone?) Others may want to plan Christmas caroling around their neighborhoods, see a live show, or snuggle up at home with a favorite Christmas movie and a bucket of popcorn. (Add red and green M&M’s to make it festive!)
  • People: Loving your people often looks like time spent together, even doing simple activities. Our family will play board games and talk and watch old reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway? (always guaranteed to make the whole family laugh). There will also be plenty of rest so that we are all our best selves during our time together. Others may work on jigsaw puzzles, crafts, or have epic snowball fights. If you have little ones in your family, playing with newly unwrapped toys is also a big hit. Whether you’re with family or with friends who are like family, you’ll want to make wonderful memories by spending quality time with them.

A Blessing for a Simple Time

May the God who announced joy over a quiet field announce it over your quiet home. May what’s small be sacred, what’s simple be sufficient, and what’s present be more than enough.

If you’d like extra support this holiday season, get our free workshop and workbook, “Your Least Cluttered Christmas Ever.” You can watch the workshop and download the free workbook at kathi.link/holiday.

 

When the World Feels Dark, Turn on the Light in the Kitchen

by 10 Comments

One of my favorite family Christmas traditions is making homemade ravioli for Christmas Dinner. While we could go to a local grocery store to buy it, we take time to make it from scratch once a year because there is something meaningful about slowing down and creating a meal together. 

After we open our gifts, eat our brunch, and have some time for rest on Christmas Day, I start to pull out ingredients: Flour. Oil. Eggs. Salt. These are the simple ingredients mixed together for the pasta dough. 

We start by measuring the flour, making a little pile right on the clean counter. Then we add the sea salt, and form a circle with our fingers in the center like a volcano. Next, we crack the eggs and gently add them to the center. A few tablespoons of olive oil are drizzled over the eggs.

I encourage my daughters to start commingling ingredients. One daughter takes a fork and gradually brings the flour into the eggs and oil, adding the water toward the end. She forms the dough into a ball, and begins to knead. Another cousin might take a turn forming the dough with his hands for several minutes. Then my brother often steps in to knead a little more before letting it rest in a bowl. 

The process of shared work and passing the dough from hand to hand is intentional. Natural oils in each of our hands influence the texture and help to balance the consistency of the dough. 

Meanwhile, I mix together the filling ingredients for the ravioli. This part invites creativity. Our traditional ravioli filling includes ricotta cheese, eggs, parmesan cheese, salt, and chopped parsley. I also like to make variations – sometimes adding butternut squash, pumpkin, and a dash of nutmeg, or spinach to the mixture.

My niece is the queen of quality control. She gets out the pasta maker and helps us press the dough into very thin sheets for ravioli. Of course, in the old country, our nonnas probably rolled the dough by hand. 

Everyone gets involved in the next part – spooning filling onto long sheets of pasta in neat rows, then topping with another sheet of pasta. We use a small drinking glass or ravioli cutter (like a cookie cutter) to press the sheets of pasta together and cut the ravioli. Placing them on a tray with parchment paper, we freeze them until we are ready to boil them for the meal. 

Part of the magic of handmaking ravioli is in the way we work together. Each person plays a part. This could be tedious work, but when we do it together, it feels light. The time flies when many hands are shaping the dough, mixing the filling, and cooking the sauce. 

This past year has felt heavy and uncertain in many ways. Brokenness in families, violence in communities, and division among political parties continue to plague our daily lives and the country’s headlines. I keep praying for a pathway forward. 

The book of Acts includes a contrasting description of the early church living, working, and flourishing together: 

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common.”
‭‭Acts‬ ‭2‬:‭42‬-‭44‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This serves as a reminder that when we are devoted to working together and sharing in community, miracles multiply. 

Through the years, I’ve learned a few meaningful lessons from making ravioli with my family: 

Pivot away from perfectionism. While it’s important to pay attention to measurements and technique in cooking, we have to keep our expectations realistic. Sometimes it’s easy to get short with each other if our focus is perfection. I am learning to savor the process of cooking in community more than how perfectly the parts are executed. 

Give everyone a chance to participate. From the time my daughters were very young, I’ve invited them to create in the kitchen with me. This is something my mama modeled for me. When each person has a chance to contribute in some way, she appreciates the meal more. Now I think ahead about the different jobs I can delegate to family members and friends so everyone is included and can experience the wonder of working together.

Provide something to feed the body, and it will nourish the soul. Nourishment is not just in what we eat, but also in the way we share it. With harsh words, we wound the human spirit. When we tell stories and engage in meaningful conversation around the kitchen island, this can nourish both our bodies and souls. God’s provision expands.

As we enter the Christmas season, you might be baking with neighbors, making a traditional recipe with your family, or inviting people to your table. Let me encourage you to use this time to cook up more than food. Every time we gather, we have the opportunity to push back the darkness of division and welcome the light of community. This points to precisely why Jesus came to earth as a baby. He moved into the neighborhood in a tumultuous time to bring the light of salvation.

My family will sit down again this year on Christmas to savor tender ravioli topped with tomato meat sauce and meatballs as our first course. Each bite serves as a testament to the wonder of working as a team and the miracle of the season.

Dorina is offering a weekly Advent devotional this month through her weekly Glorygram on Substack. Join her as she helps people feast on the glory of God in all seasons!

 

We Walk Among Prayers

by 14 Comments

I sank to my knees in front of rows of flickering flames from candles lit by hundreds who had come to pray here before me. This sacred space on my college campus was a place I frequented every week as a student, praying with friends and lighting candles for special intentions.

Please let me pass this test. Please let this relationship work out. Please help me find my way.

Now that I was back on campus decades later, I took a moment to sit back and reflect on all the times I had come here to connect with God.

In a flash, I suddenly saw all the prayers I had whispered in this place. Prayers to keep that boyfriend (we broke up). Prayers for the right job (found it, though I wandered my way there). Prayers for a baby (years later, a yes). Prayers for healing (cancer-free for two years now).

In that instant, I was overwhelmed by the goodness God has poured into my life. Even when prayers took years to be answered, even when they did not turn out the way I planned, I still felt abundance and awe at God’s mysterious movement in my life.

Yet in the same moment, I pictured my brother — who went to the same school, came to the same place to pray, sank to his knees in front of the same candles, and begged God to rid his body of cancer. He got love, hope, friendship, care, support, and the best treatments that modern medicine could offer — but he still died from the same disease.

What are we to make of the mystery of prayer?

Anyone who promises you easy answers misses the truth that believers since the dawn of time have been wrestling and reckoning with the same agonizing questions. Does God hear our prayers? Why are some prayers answered and not others? How can we make sense when bad things happen to good people (and good things happen to bad people)?

Truth be told, I am quick to fixate on the prayers that didn’t go my way. The babies that didn’t make it. The friend whose treatment didn’t heal her. The relationship that couldn’t be saved. The sufferings I still endure. I miss the forest for the trees when I wallow in what I didn’t get, even when my life is full of what God has given, though it wasn’t always what I wanted.

But in the cold night air, praying in the place where some of my deepest prayers had been answered and others had not, I could not escape one clear truth:

We all walk around in the midst of answered prayers.

Of course we know that every prayer has not been answered in the ways we want. Thank God for some of that (younger-me praying for that boyfriend to be the one, I’m looking at you). But because of human nature, we often focus on the ones that did not come to fruition in the ways we hoped. Yet every single one of us has received an answered prayer, whether big or small.

A stunning fact worth stopping to celebrate.

Maybe you prayed for a friend, and now you’ve found one. Maybe you hoped for a good job, and the right position finally came your way. Maybe you wanted a home to call your own, a supportive community, relief from physical pain, or healing from emotional hurts you’ve carried — and now you have received a version of exactly this.

As humans with restless hearts and insatiable desires, we always hunger for more, always pleading with God for the next good thing. And as believers living in a broken world, our hearts ache for what we prayed for and did not receive.

But we cannot lose sight of the truth that we are living among answered prayers. (And often we ourselves are the answers to someone else’s prayers.)

The spiritual writer Thomas Merton said, “There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.” Among all the griefs, losses, and broken hearts that this hard life holds for each one of us, we cannot lose sight of this holy fact:

You are an answered prayer, and you have received an answered prayer.

What prayer has God answered in your life? Take a moment to sit in the power of this profound truth, in whatever way big or small, your pleas or praises have been heard. Paul’s words to the Colossians remind us to stay persistent in prayer but also to be grateful for the basic, bedrock truth that we have a God who hears us:

“And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him… Devote yourselves to prayer, keeping alert in it with thanksgiving.”
Colossians 3:17, 4:2 NRSVUE

Whenever we give thanks for an answered prayer, we can begin to see how God has always been working in our lives, even in small or unexpected ways. And when we step back to see each tiny prayer we offer, flickering like a candle in the darkness, we might just catch our breath at the mystery of how God works through prayer, beyond our wildest imagination.

Laura’s latest book is Mary’s Way of Advent: Prayers & Practices to Slow Down & Seek God. Check out this collection of Scripture, reflections, prayers, and creative ideas to celebrate the four weeks of Advent through hope, peace, joy, and love.

Expect Nothing, Be Grateful for Everything

by 15 Comments

Roughly three decades ago, my husband Darian and I heard a pastor say, “Expect nothing, be grateful for everything.” That phrase revolutionized our lives. It changed how we looked at people and the pressure we placed on them — often without them even knowing it.

It also removed the opportunity for us to be offended.

This phrase reminds me of Scriptures that teach it is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35), if you want to be first in God’s Kingdom, then you must be a servant of all (Mark 9:35), and forgive, and you will be forgiven (Matthew 6:14–15).

As we move into the holiday season, it’s easy to start placing expectations — some realistic, some unrealistic—on others. We expect them to show up, buy things, cook things, go places, and fulfill everything everyone else expects of them as well. Early in our marriage, Darian and I decided we would be the easy family members, the easy friends, the easy parents. However, that decision wasn’t easy to make. It meant we’d probably get the blow‑up bed in the basement, ride in the backseat, and not celebrate holidays the way we wanted or on the day we preferred. And yes, all of those things have happened over the years.

I’ll never forget the first Christmas after our oldest son, Taylor, got married. As a family of five, we had always done things a certain way. We had our own traditions. On Christmas morning, we’d wake up, find our stockings filled with random gifts and trinkets, enjoy a big breakfast, open the presents under the tree, watch a Christmas movie or play a game, and then eventually head over to Gma and Papa’s. But that year, everything changed. Taylor had a beautiful bride, Bailey, and together they were creating a new family dynamic. We had already talked with them earlier in the season, and we knew we wouldn’t be celebrating with them on Christmas Day.

The rest of us carried on with our traditions that morning, but one person was missing. My heart was sad. What about Christmas pictures? For the first time, I wouldn’t have all of my kids in a Christmas photo on Christmas Day. Yet I chose not to project that sadness onto my children. I didn’t want them to feel guilty. Wanting your family to feel bad about traditions is manipulation — and manipulation is selfishness at its core. Instead, the four of us made the best of it. It felt different, but no one felt guilty.

Later that afternoon, Taylor texted to say he and Bailey were going to stop by. They didn’t have to — I didn’t expect them to — but they did. Before they left, we all walked outside and took a family picture. I was incredibly grateful.

When expectations are removed, gratitude flows more freely. Entitlement and gratitude cannot live in the same house. Entitlement says, “I deserve.” Gratitude says, “I give.”

Every now and then, I come across that picture of the six of us. Each time, the same wave of gratitude washes over me. They didn’t have to come that day — but they did.

No one expressed this idea of gratitude better than the Apostle Paul: “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18 NIV). As children of God, we are called peacemakers (Matthew 5:9). Being a peacemaker often requires self‑control. It means telling ourselves “no,” and that rarely feels good in the moment — but the peace that comes always feels good. Expectations, guilt, manipulation, and judgment rob us of peace. They rob our families, our friends, and our holiday season.

This Christmas, when we say “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men,” remember: it won’t happen automatically. It happens because we choose to be peacemakers instead of peace‑takers. Because we choose gratitude instead of entitlement.

There have been other years and other holidays when I didn’t get what I wanted. Now all my kids are all grown with families of their own. Even though I haven’t always been able to celebrate how and when I wanted, I have always been able to celebrate with a house full of peace. 

Sacrificing expectations for a lifetime of peace produces a heart of gratitude. 

.

The Reason for the Advent Season

by 6 Comments

“For a child will be born for us,
a son will be given to us,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
He will be named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.”
Isaiah 9:6 CSB 

Today begins the season of Advent — a season of expectant waiting and longing for Christ to come again as we celebrate His first coming. Perhaps more than ever, we feel the ache of wanting God to make all things right again, so let’s let the words of this familiar passage marinate in our hearts. 

Jesus is our Wonderful Counselor. When we are in despair from overwhelming pain, we remember that God is Healer and Counselor. He is both the One who helps us and the very balm we need for our broken hearts, our fragile minds, and our bruised bodies. 

Jesus is our Mighty God. When we are taken advantage of, when we feel powerless, God is our strength and our defender. No one can stand against His powerful name. 

Jesus is our Eternal Father. When we feel unloved — particularly during the holiday season — we remember that God is our loving Father. He has known us from before He created the world and knows where we are headed. He cares about each moment and every part of our lives. 

Jesus is our Prince of Peace. When fear and anxiety rule our hearts, He is still the giver of peace. He Himself is Peace and dwells within us through the Holy Spirit. Find rest in Him. 

Come, Lord Jesus, during this season of Advent and every day. Amen. 

 

Our Grief Is Not Greater Than the Joy of Jesus’ Coming

by 15 Comments

Trigger warning: This is a personal story that contains self-harm content.

Advent is one of my favorite times of year; the twinkling tree lights, carol services, and heavily scented air, rich with pine and cinnamon, never fail to excite and delight me. There is something about the glorious anticipation that fizzes inside me, invoking a childlike excitement that has been dulled by most of adulthood.

And yet Advent is also a season of darkness, where my body remembers my worst memories, and I find myself, every year, enveloped by a depression that refuses to be comforted amidst the mistletoe. The sorrow of it almost matches the joy of the season, and the two are inseparable.

It was with the first carols of the season still ringing in my ear when I first tried to take my own life, between Advent Sundays in which I tasted deep grief and, years later, would feel a longed-for baby pass from my body in a blur of pain and fear. My soul remembers the grief of December days, seeking the solace of soft light in the darkness.

It feels incongruous to me that Advent should be a season of excitement and yet, for me, evoke such grief. But when we step back and look at what Advent celebrates, that’s exactly what it does. It is a season for looking forward to the coming of Jesus, showing how he has been a part of God’s story long before the stable and the manger. Advent teaches us that joy and sorrow can coexist, as Advent ushers in the everlasting light while guiding us through accepting the darkness that remains, for a time.

Through our observances of Advent, we are celebrating our future arrival home and also acknowledging the ache of our homesickness until that day.

Isaiah 9:1-7 NIV illustrates this contradiction as it proclaims: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” It’s a reminder that we only recognize the beauty of the light when we also acknowledge and accept the darkness.

I see it in my own life when December rolls around every year. I admire the beauty of the shining lights even as I grapple with the darkness in my story and in my heart. Yet, somehow, in all the confusion that these two forces bring, I glimpse something of God’s tender heart for humanity.

He did not have to shrink himself into Mary’s womb, to experience the powerlessness of being a newborn baby, perhaps feel the fear of his parents as they fled to Egypt to escape Herod’s murderous rule. The One who crafted the stars (with the casualness that Genesis describes) did not have to experience the loss and limits of humanity — and yet He did so for our sake. He faced the darkness so that we would never be alone in our own dark night.

Advent is a gift that helps our eyes adjust to the darkness before we are dazzled with the light and hope of the reality of Jesus’ incarnation. It’s a foreshadowing of the day we will one day see God in all His glory and how our darkness illuminated His plans. It’s a reminder that our grief is not greater than the joy of Jesus’ coming because Jesus himself grew accustomed to the night — and overcame it.

And, so, as the candles are lit each week, may we hold both joy and sorrow together before our Lord, holding onto the hope of the light that will one day extinguish our despair.

~

At (in)courage, we believe in making space for all stories and experiences. With heartache, we recognize the reality of self-harm. With hope, we share this story, proclaiming the help and healing that can be found in community and Christ. We are here for you, in prayer and in the comments below, should you wish to respond to this guest article. If you are in a crisis and considering self-harm, dial 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline which provides 24/7, free and confidential help for self-harm. You are not alone. There is help.

We Were Made to Hold Both the Ordinary and the Glorious

by 21 Comments

We are in the thick of my favorite quarter. (Anyone else operate on a Q4 mindset? #corporateworklife, am I right?) Q4 is my favorite of the whole year. From October 1 until January 1, I am running on full-steam holiday joy, leaving a pumpkin-spice-scented trail in my wake. 

Three of my kids have Q4 birthdays, and my own birthday is in October. We have the start of fall sports and classes, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s (Eve and Day!). There are football games, church events, trunk or treats, and holiday parties. We visit the apple orchard, the pumpkin patch, and school conferences. There are band concerts, church pageants, birthday parties, and family gatherings galore. We usually schedule our family photos when the leaves are in peak color. We take the kids Christmas shopping for each other and check our own lists twice. We bake cookies, shop for turkeys and side dish ingredients, and decorate several times for all the major holidays. 

And of course, there are the everyday, regular, ordinary time-fillers. Homework. Grocery shopping. Doctor appointments. Dinner. Dishes. Walking the dog. Driving kids around. Matching up socks and switching laundry loads. Going to church, making lunches, raking leaves, shoveling snow. Checking in on our parents. Calling our kids. Paying bills and cleaning crumbs. 

Last week I sat beside my son in a church pew during worship. He whispered, “I memorized all of those words,” motioning to the stained-glass windows next to us that spell out the church year seasons under each picture. “Advent, Christmas, Time after Epiphany, Lent, The Three Days, Easter.” 

“That’s right!” I whispered back. “And then you know what’s next? It’s called Ordinary Time. From after Easter till Advent.” 

“Wow, that’s a lot of Ordinary Time,” he replied. 

And he is correct. 

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all of the ordinary time. It’s always in my face and messing with the special memory-making I would rather be doing. Like I’m never going to choose washing dishes over driving around to look at Christmas lights. And yet, when we pull in the garage late at night, sugared up from cocoa and joy, the dishes await. 

So how does one stay present during both the end-of-year joy extravaganza and the quiet gifts of ordinary time? 

As with most things, we look to Jesus. 

Jesus was so, so good at being fully present. When He visited friends and family. When He preached to the masses. When He interacted quietly with widows, bleeding women, and tax collectors. They all had His full attention. . . even when dinner was required. 

In Matthew, we read about Jesus trying to escape for a break, but He’s found, and found by a ton of people. He has compassion for the crowds, heals their sick, and then (just as it sneaks up on me each and every day) it’s dinnertime before they know it. 

The glory of the regular, all mixed up with the holy. 

The disciples want to send everyone away to find their own dinner on their own dime and let Jesus get back on schedule. But Jesus. He tells the disciples to feed all the people! And it was a whole thing to do that, because thousands had gathered, and there was definitely not enough food. 

I mean, I’ve been there too. During one Q4-season birthday party I was hosting for my son, my sister-in-law ran to the store mid-party for additional chickens, because bless my heart, I had never roasted whole chickens before, and I hadn’t gotten enough for the full group. (My son requested ‘whole chickens’ for his birthday meal. I don’t know.) 

So, the people gathered around Jesus don’t have food, and they’re getting hangry. Jesus pulls out a miracle, taking a boy’s offering of five loaves of bread and two fish, and somehow multiplies it so that “all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over” (Matthew 14). 

And all the while, Jesus was present. Fully in the setting, fully with the people. 

Really, are we even in the season of gratitude and joy if we don’t run into a snag at some point in our plans? Is it even the holidays if we aren’t going through some situation that we fear will take a miracle to get out of? Don’t we all wish we could delegate the menial tasks and let the people fend for themselves, so our attention isn’t divided? 

Yet, we see Jesus. Jesus shows us how to stay present with the people, immersed in the setting, feeling the depth of all the feelings, and feeding those around Him. 

He casually changes lives over conversations at watering holes. He heals bodies and souls. He laughs and mourns with friends. 

Jesus is all in, wherever He is, whomever He’s with. And you know what happens with those around Him? They do the same. They hold both their ordinary lives with the glory of His presence. 

We can live in the extraordinary joy that the festivities and bustle of Q4 brings, and we can experience glory in the regular tasks that make up our days. We can hold both. We were made to hold both. 

We’re in it right now. Let’s live in it deep. 

Article by Anna E. Rendell from the (in)courage archives and featured in Everyday Faith Magazine.

The Winter 2025 edition of Everyday Faith is available now, and you’re going to love it!

From cover to cover, Everyday Faith Magazine is brimming with articles that bring joy and peace. In this issue, you’ll find:

  • a Christmas Bible Reading Plan,
  • excerpts from new books and devotionals,
  • tips to help you actually mail your holiday cards,
  • new holiday recipes & traditions,
  • an invitation to choose a word for the upcoming year,
  • stories of faith, and messages of comfort and joy.

We know the winter season can be both merry & bright, and cold & dark. Wherever this magazine finds you, know that Jesus has been born for you, friend, and His unshakeable peace can be yours – despite your trials, sorrows, and circumstances. 

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart because I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33 NIV

We hope this issue brings your heart peace and helps you know and share God’s love in fresh, authentic, and inspiring ways all season long. The article above is just one of many featured in Everyday Faith Magazine, which is perfect for gifting to a friend, Bible Study sister, Sunday School teacher, or neighbor. And to help you do just that, we’re giving away* FIVE sets of magazines — one for each winner and one for them to give to a friend! Just leave a comment on this article.

Praying your winter is full of holiday joy and unshakeable peace.

*Giveaway is open to US addresses only and will close on 11/30/2025 at 11:59 pm Central.