(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

They Will Be Comforted
Aug 04, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer




There are many losses we must go through in life. Loss of a loved one. Loss of a pet. Loss of a job. Loss of a marriage. Loss of a friendship. Loss of a home. They are all losses. And although we grieve over different hurts and we grieve in different ways, we all have experienced grief in some way. We all will experience grief in some way. It is something that connects us as humans.

There is not a person alive that hasn't had something happen that is extremely hard to get over. There is not a person alive that hasn't gone through something hard to understand. It is ok not to understand.



I think we grieve so intensely because we love so intensely.

My husband and I suffered a tremendous loss in our family last month, the loss of our 10 year old weimaraner, Koa. Our truly beloved companion. It was, and still is, devastating. This grief hit me so intensely, it just went straight to my core. This grief knocked me to my knees. But I know that God will meet me where I am.



I know that God understands my pain. I know that He understands and knows my grief. I know He cares. He is there to comfort us and to carry us through, each and every one of us.

We just need to turn to Him. It is by taking it to the Father that we are able to withstand the pain. By giving Him our grief every morning we can make it through the day.



God meets us in our suffering. He will always be there with wide, open arms to hold us. He gives us strength we need for each day. He will be there to help us when our legs are too weak. When we are shattered and need a simple reminder to breathe, He is there. Our friend is there for us.

We can not receive the comfort we need on this earth, not completely. It can only completely come from Him.



He will be there when we find our strength to stand again and He will stand right there beside us. He helps us find all those pieces and put them back into place. God gets us to the other side.

And in turn, we are able to comfort others  with that same love and compassion.



Do you turn to Him with your troubles and grief? Are you going through a difficult time right now... are you finding your strength in Him?  Please feel open to share so we may know how He strengthens or we may share with you the love and compassion we have received from Him.

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

[Judy Harder]

 Sunday Scripture


Aug 05, 2012 01:20 am | incourage

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.  And be thankful. 
Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.  And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Colossians 3: 12-17

[Judy Harder]

When Differences Loom Large
Aug 07, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong




"To share an uncommon love where we have uncommon ground – now, that's marriage."

Beth Moore, Feathers from My Nest

"Now, listen up, everyone! Breakfast will be served at oh-nine hundred sharp!"

The words reverberate off the bathroom walls where I'm applying mascara. I step back from the counter and nervously ask myself,

"Oh-nine hundred. I guess that's 9 o'clock?"

I step out of the bathroom of my then boyfriend David's family lake house. Mercifully, David walks by and I whisper to him only slightly panicked,

"Okay, this oh-nine hundred thing. That's 9 o'clock, right?"

He grins big and nods.

The lake house was chock-full of his sweet family who graciously invited me to enjoy the weekend with them at their family reunion. It was also chock-full of more military brass than you could shake a stick at. As warm and welcoming as they were, their family lifestyle was quite the departure from that of my own artsy, free-spirited self.

Our early differences stemmed from more than military vs. non military families. David and I came from different church denominations. We voted for opposing Presidential candidates in the previous election. He majored in engineering, I majored in arts. And still today, our personalities sometimes clash. He loves change, I resist it. He's a straight up thinker, I'm a feeler all the way.

Now married seventeen years, I've spent more of my life with him than without. I've been head over heels for this man since the first moment I laid eyes on him, but let me tell you: We are crazy different and it's only by God's divine plan we found each other and are together. Still.

When David and I think about how he and I became us, we see two people with a wild attraction for each other, a healthy sense of humor, and a divine smattering of super glue. Undoubtedly, God meant for us to be together.  And as lovely as that sounds, there are times when we both think the other is an alien. And depending on our mood, we find this hilarious or maddening.

Lately, there have been real differences glare obnoxious in our marriage. Not insurmountable differences, but not discountable ones, either. And if I might get super honest with you, there are times my thoughts run away and I'm sure we will never find common ground. How could we when we look at something from completely opposite points of view?

"Sometimes what is most important to us is not obvious and can be seen only by how we respond to our husbands in everyday life." Linda Dillow, What's It Like to Be Married to Me?

Too often, I let our differences get the best of me and I make unwise choices in how I respond to these differences. How I respond to my husband.

But I am learning. I am learning to quit fighting our differences, to put my fists down and open my hands to the mystery of Christ. Jesus revels in bringing uncommon people together for His common good. He is glorified when two people who under normal circumstances wouldn't spend 5 minutes together actually like each other. Love each other.  When two people serve Jesus, love not only covers a multitude of sins, it covers a multitude of differences. Unlike any other, His love smooths the bumps, fills the gaps, and heals the wedges between two wildly different people.

There are a million I-am-for-you-and-not-against-you choices I can make for my man and marriage each day, and all those everyday little choices answer to this big one: In spite of our differences, I choose the same team as you, my husband. I choose you.

I choose us.

If you and your spouse {or another loved one} are two wildly different people, would you share a bit of your story with us? How are you different? How do you stay on the same team?

Several of you told me how you considered the Friendship Manifesto from my last post as it related to your spouse. Your comments gave me delicious food for thought, and I thank you so much. If you are interested in downloading a free printable form of that manifesto, please click here.

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies



Experience Not Required For Bravery
Aug 07, 2012 01:10 am | Shelly Miller




My dress hangs loose but I can't fit into my jeans yet. It's only been a few months since giving birth to my first child when a friend stops me in the church lobby.  We both carry car seats with newborns like purses dangling on arms when she pleads with me to start something for new moms. A play group, bible study, anything – because she's desperate.

She speaks teary of loneliness, isolation and tired that smothers joy.  We're the same age, wear the same dark circles of new motherhood, but I'm the pastors wife and his wisdom shadows me capable.

I think about how just weeks before, I stood in the closet with hot tears staining cheeks, admitting to him how unprepared I felt to raise a life. What does the only child of a single mother that spends most nights romancing a cheap bottle of wine know about being a mother?

Bravery comes as an unexpected gift, attached to the heels of new life for a mother. I grasp that gift like a fish flopping on the kitchen counter and say yes, I'll do it. Provide a community where weary hearts can rest, find solace in the reflection of their kindred kind.

They flock like birds to scattered seeds on new grass at the beginning of spring. Wear those car seats and diaper bags as badges of honor for the price of shoulders to lean on. Savor His wisdom from Words of Life once a week.

And weary hearts that once lay scattered like rags around the city quickly become a vibrant community in parks pushing swings, around backyard pools and barbecues, lunching beside plastic cities at McDonalds.

Our kids drive cars now and the mothers, we spread out to where His finger points. We worry about the price of gas, college entrance, and fine lines; marvel at how time really does fly, and wonder how silent life will feel just around the corner.



When I reflect upon conversations between many of those same women today, I realize that it doesn't take years of experience or eloquent speech to build a community of lifelong companionship. Just a bit of holy bravery rooted in compassion to listen to the voice of destiny, and then say yes.

Sometimes that yes yields a harvest of flourishing families. A lifelong look into eyes that share the sacred pilgrimage of becoming the people He created us to be.

So, get going. I'll be right there with you—with your mouth! I'll be right there to teach you what to say. Exodus 4:11, The Message

Have you ever wanted to lead something? Perhaps pioneer something new but stuttered in stepping out because of a lack of experience? Let's talk about it and encourage one another here in the comments.

By Shelly Miller, Redemptions Beauty






If You Need Rescuing
Aug 08, 2012 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant


My breath fogs up the mirror. I swipe another coat of mascara on my lashes.

"Thank you that my skin isn't broken out today."

I step back to examine my attempt at dreamy eyes.

"Thank you that my hair doesn't look strange, even with all the humidity."

"Thank you for my dear friends. This heart of mine is full with their love for me. Thank you for sending them my way. I need each of them and you knew that."

He heard my year old prayers to send me real friends.

I check my phone for the time.

"Thank you for sound sleep last night with no bad dreams. And the opportunity to serve you today."

"Oh and that new opportunity that you've brought out of the blue, that was amazing. I'm blown away by your provision. Thank you, Lord."

___________________________________________

My morning routine has changed. Not with a new loofah or hairbrush, but how I dress my mind. Instead of waking up asking for things, nervous about the day, trying to control my circumstances with rapid gunfire prayers towards heaven, I turn my heart toward grateful.

I acknowledge the small that can break my day or make my attitude.

I like a good 'if, then' statement and this one's a keeper. "Make thankfulness your sacrifice to God, and keep the vows you made to the Most High. Then, call on me when you are in trouble, and I will rescue you, and you will give me glory." – Psalm 50: 14 & 15

My goal is simple. To give God glory. But sometimes I make it more complicated that it needs to be. I love when He reveals to me how to do the desire of my heart. The one He planted there long ago.

Not blood or sweat or try-hard sacrifice, but thankfulness. That's all Jesus wants from me.

{That can be hard to swallow. Take a moment a try to believe that. Do you really? Or does the good girl list creep in. "Surely, that's not all the God of the Universe needs. He'll need more." Well, He doesn't.}

A thankful heart for the big, and most definitely the very small, is rescuing me from the ordinary life. And could rescue me from trouble in the future.

Let's give Him glory, girls. Will you share your sacrifice of thankfulness to God? {I'd love to read one thing from you today.}

[Judy Harder]

What Are You Longing For?
Aug 09, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


The structure part of the retreat finishes and we all prepare for bed. Kendra, my co-leader, plants herself on one side of the room, I on the other. We want to be available to any students who may want to talk more privately about the things we discussed during the weekend – things of faith, hope, fear, and freedom.



I watch Kendra from where I sit. She is in deep conversation with a student and I desperately want to join them, want to hear the things that bring this girl to such a broken place and hopefully, to healing.

Instead, I sit on my side of the room and am quickly surrounded by a group of about four girls. The conversation drifts from cats to allergies to dogs. Then back to cats.

Internally, I am exploding from boredom. Externally, I am listening, laughing, engaged.

This talk is not interesting. But these girls are sixteen. And in order to reach their hearts, sometimes we have to smile through the small talk, connect on insignificant issues, feel our way through the pleasantries.

I am emotionally allergic to small talk. Give me a girl who wants to talk the deep and I'll stay up all night. Put me at dinner with a group of chit-chatters, and I'll take my food to go, thank you.

But I don't take my food to go because I like people. Also, I'm pretty good at the small talk. People have actually told me this. I roll my eyes at myself sometimes when I notice ways my outer life isn't consistent with my inner life.

The Man and I read a book together this past winter – Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton – and while I read about her own career in speaking and writing as well as the exhaustion her soul felt in the midst, it resonated so deeply I had to put the book down and sob.

"Exhaustion sets in when we are too accessible too much of the time. A soul-numbing sadness comes when we realize that a certain quality of life and quality of presence is slipping away as a result of too much 'convenience.'... I am noticing that the more I fill my life with the convenience of technology, the emptier I become in the places of my deepest longing."

Ruth Haley Barton, Sacred Rhythms

Sometimes the internet feels like one long session of small talk. It drains the ever-lovin life out of me.



Small talk isn't necessarily wrong or bad, it just isn't my favorite. And the feeling I get when the small talk outweighs the real talk is similar to the feeling I get when I haven't had time to consider my intentions, my longings, and my desire.

Jesus consistently asked people in the Bible the same question: "What do you want me to do for you?" It wasn't a trick question and it cut right through the small talk. He looked straight into their eyes and asked them clearly, what is your desire?

It is impossible to answer questions about desire when our souls shake at the edges from too much activity.

We must quiet the critical voice, search out the secret place, listen for the deep, mysterious longing.

Don't be afraid of the answers. What God has placed within you, he wants to bring out of you. Not just for you, but for us, too.

Barton goes on to say: "I long for the beauty and substance of being in the presence of those I love, even though it is less convenient. I long for spacious, thoughtful conversation even though it is less efficient. I long to be connected with my authentic self, even though it means being inaccessible to others at times."

And so I consider what it is I long for.

I have a deep desire to listen and understand what goes on behind the masks people put up. Even though I wrote a whole book about it, sometimes I'm still terrified to have people see what goes on behind mine. I long to embrace my own smallness, to quiet the competing voices in my head, and to enter into listening conversations with my husband, teenagers, my children, my Father.

We were made in the secret place and to the secret place we must return. To receive. To remember. To listen.

What are you longing for?



typed out in the quiet by Emily Freeman



Pleasing People
Aug 09, 2012 01:10 am | Kate Motaung




A few weeks ago, I found myself trying to convince my six-year-old that she could not walk the mile to swimming lessons with her swimming cap on her head.

"Why not, Mom?" she asked. "Is it because you think people will think I look silly?"

"Well, yes," I admitted.

"I don't care if people think I look silly," was her nonchalant response.

Of course I smiled. And with the smile came the realization that I had overreacted. Again.

The same sin in my heart manifests itself in a myriad of different masks – but the substance from which the masks are formed is the same. They are all moulded from a plaster called pride.

I want others to think well of me, to be impressed with my parenting skills, to compliment my children's behavior.

How many times have I scolded my nine-year-old because his shirt was not tucked in, or reprimanded my four-year-old for not wiping the toothpaste off his face like I had asked him to? Tidy appearances are not unbiblical, but what is my motive for such standards? Truthfully, it is to make a good impression on others. At its root is the desire to please people.

If my daughter is desperate to go to church so she can learn more about Jesus, does God care whether her socks match? 1 Samuel 16:7 says, "But the LORD said to Samuel, 'Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.'"

My primary concern should not be what other people think of me or my children, but whether my heart is right with God.

Biblically speaking, I should not place a desire to please and impress others over and above my desire to please my King. I've been convicted by Galatians 1:10 – "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ."

Paul's words in 1 Thessalonians 2:4-5 are equally convicting: "...We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed—God is our witness."

When my daughter revealed her indifference toward the opinion of others, part of me was glad that I have not yet scarred her completely with my sinful tendency to want to please people. Another part of me wondered how long it will take before her child-like naivety wears off and she becomes more aware of peer pressure and wanting to fit in.

With this in mind, I ask myself: "How can I, as a parent, be proactive and help to protect my children from succumbing to the wants of society as I am so programmed to do?"

For a start, I can help them by ensuring that they are raised with a biblical view of themselves.

Each one of us is a wretched sinner, utterly helpless to do or be anything good without the help of the Holy Spirit. Having said that, it is astounding to think we have been made by God in His image. He Himself knitted us together, He knew us before we were even conceived, His hand formed us and shaped us exactly how He wanted us to be.

If I truly believed that, I would not sigh with such agitation on Sunday mornings when my kids drip syrup onto their church clothes. If I really believed that, I would happily let my daughter walk in public with a swimming cap on her head, as long as her heart is right with God.

By Kate Motaung

[Judy Harder]

The Small Things That Keep You Close
Aug 10, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley




I grew up in a ministry family. My father was the local director of an international Christian youth organization and I spent my younger years very much a part of all of that excitement and energy that surrounded that group.

When I was in the tenth grade my father began taking big groups of kids to the mountains where we would spend a weekend worshipping, laughing and becoming introduced to some of the spiritual disciplines. Most of us were "churched" kids who loved Jesus and 1. Were excited to be out of suburbia and 2. Wanted to get closer to God. But we'd each been sitting in youth groups and Sunday School for years hearing "about" Jesus so this hands on approach to God was all a new experience.

We learned about solitude and prayer. We learned about study and Christian meditation. We talked about service and about silence. And then we practiced them.

With a journal in one hand and the Bible in the other, we would spend 30 minutes or longer alone in the near woods asking God to speak to us through nature. We watched pine trees sway and ants build homes and wondered what truth of God could be learned from such things. We read the Bible and asked God to reveal Himself to us in new ways from the Scriptures.

Sometimes we were silent.

Sometimes we just prayed.

Sometimes we meditated on something Jesus said.

All in all, we were being coached in how to live a spiritually interpretive life. We were encouraged to try to find the sacred and true in the minutiae of the journey. And we were being taught how to live with Jesus rather than just learn about Him.

I went to these weekend camps with my dad and mom and other young adults twice a year for almost a decade. I credit this, even above any church service or big Christian conference I ever attended, with what has helped me the most in my year to year life with God.

I've listened to a lot of sermons and sat in tons of Bible studies. Like a lot of us, I've been a part of prayer meetings and Friday night services and worship evenings. I've heard a lot about God and a lot about the Bible. But for me what has stretched far beyond pulpits and what has lasted well into the next decade has been the regular practice of practical, godly, spiritual disciplines.

These are the small things that have kept me close.

When I don't feel like reading the Bible and I go months and months without cracking it's pages, I seem to fall back to prayer and meditation like they are old friends. The idea of studying a child's laughter or why a bird builds a nest near my dining room window comes easier to me because I've done it before and God has spoken to me through these things. I've practiced it with my own hands. The years when sermons seem dry and Bible studies bore are the years I find myself picking out a single verse and meditating on it over a kitchen sink full of dishes, my arms half deep in the soap. And to be alone, to be silent in communion with God is ever preferable to me over many other things.

I'm not at all against church. I love church and I love my church very much.

But at the end of it all, it won't matter what church we've gone to or how many women's Bible studies we've attended.

It will matter, I believe, how we let Him infuse our days with Himself and how we allow ourselves to be taught by the little, beautiful things in life. And I think it will matter, at the end, how we choose to live with Jesus every day.

What are the small things that keep you close to or bring you back to Jesus? How have you seen God in daily life lately?

[Judy Harder]

Saving Grace [On Raising Christians]
Aug 11, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch


We recently had house guests, the kind that stay a few days.

This always makes me nervous.

I worry about my cooking, if the bathrooms are clean enough...if there's extra room around the table, you know how it is. It can be stressful for Type A people like me.

During conversations, over dinner, and in general, I kept catching myself over-correcting my kids. I was scrutinizing their every move, closely watching for bad attitudes, micro-managing their behavior and wanting them to be perfect little Christian children.



I'm not sure if it was just a lack of grace or a desire to impress our company, but I didn't like what I was doing.

By the end of the weekend, I was exhausted, not from the company or the extra work that goes with it, but from me. I was tired of the invisible pressure.

I was trying too hard to make my kids into what I thought they should be.

I want my kids to have Christ-like character traits. I want them to be Christians. But sometimes, I am conforming them to Christianity, rather than letting Christianity transform them.

I've seen kids raised in Christian homes, sent to Christian camps, schools, surrounded by "Christian" things, only to go wild and delve into sinful activity when those restraints are lifted.

I'm not against raising our kids in positive settings. I think they all have their place. But in every child's life, at some point, there will be testing. If they've only conformed to Christian practices and standards without being transformed by Christ, they will fail.

My greatest desire is for Jesus to be real to my kids. I want them to turn to Him, even before they come to me. I want them to know Him, to fellowship with Him, to touch the scars in His hands and tremble at His holiness.

And this won't happen because I demand behavior that I deem "Christian." I honestly think that making them conform to Christianity at every turn is harmful.

It's my job to lead them to Him. But then I have to step back and let Him move in their hearts.

I waved goodbye to the guests and determined to bestow grace on the people in my house.

Saving grace.

I'm raising my kids to be Christians.

But He will turn them into disciples.

"Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it." Proverbs 22:6

by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family

[Judy Harder]

A Sunday Scripture
Aug 12, 2012 01:20 am | incourage




Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40: 28-31

[Judy Harder]

I'm Glad I Finished A Half-Marathon. Once.
Aug 14, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs




I don't love to run.

Edit: I don't run.

It's just never been the exercise of choice for me. Zumba is more my style.

But there are times when I want to run a race. [I don't know why either.]

In March of 2011, I finished a half-marathon in Seaside, Florida.

[That sentence originally said "I ran a half-marathon" but if you knew the ratio of run to walk that I did for those three hours, you would accuse me of lying. And you'd be right.]

I was way behind my three friends. I mean WAY behind them. As in, Katie finished in two hours, I finished in three hours and twenty-five minutes.

We all knew it would go like that. No one was surprised. I'm slow, it's just my way. So I ran the race alone after about the first mile when my friends jogged away and I stopped to work out a calf cramp situation.

A long time later, as I turned the corner at the 12th mile, with just 1.1 miles to go, a figure was coming towards me, jogging. I kinda rolled my eyes, thinking, "Why would someone be doing the first half of the race when it is ending?" And by "ending" I mean that the bus had already driven by me at mile 10 to see if I wanted to get on it and quit the race.

Slow, y'all. I was slow.

As the jogger got closer, I realized it was my friend Katie.

She had come back to meet me, wherever I was on the course, and finish the race with me. So we ran, for 1.1 miles, and we talked about what my friends had been doing while waiting on me for the last ninety-six minutes, I kept asking her exactly how close we were to the finish [I'm sure that wasn't annoying], and she reminded me, over and over, that she was there, and that we were about to finish.

And that day, Katie reminded me so much of Jesus.

I'm glad I finished that half-marathon because I saw Jesus's love at the end. It made the whole race worth it.

By: Annie, Annie Blogs







When You Want To Run
Aug 14, 2012 01:10 am | Karin






The first time I wanted to run I was eight years old.  I had a little orange suitcase, and I packed it full of socks.  I guess I thought the most tremendous crisis I would face would be... cold feet.

I made it as far as our hallway door.  I reconsidered, deciding that maybe my bedroom would be more comfortable.  I unpacked my socks.  The morning came... and I no longer felt the need to run.

I have had the urge to run several times in my life.  (I am pretty sure that urge hit me this last week at some point, while the crescendo of whining pierced my thoughts).

The thing is... am I running to or from?

I have run to... college, graduate school, my husband, motherhood, vacations, locations.

As I think about this, I realize I have run from the same.

Not permanently, and sometimes only in my mind.  Don't we all do this?  Allow ourselves the fantasy of running away when the reality is just too much work... when it doesn't "feel" right... when it isn't what we expected it would be.

Maybe it's the expectation that distorts the beauty of what each person, each place, and each situation holds.

My mind's eye sees precisely what I want it to be... when that doesn't match the view I see before me... the thought enters...

run

Where does this mental running take me?  To the next place... to the greener grass... to the glass half full.

The truth is... the mental running takes me from something far more valuable.

Right here.  Right now. 

Right where He has put me... with the gifts He has given me.

What do you do when you want to run?

Be still

B ehold the beauty of where you are right now

E xpect change ~ when it's His timing



S upport your husband, children, family, friends ~ it will take your mind off yourself

T ake time to enjoy now ~ it will be gone too soon

I magine what good you can do ~ today

L ove God ~ know that He's got your back

L ive and laugh and love ~ the glass is full



No socks needed... no cold feet.



Psalm 46:10

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."

By Karin, Sunrise with a sixpack

[Judy Harder]

Close Calls
Aug 15, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance




It was instinct and adrenaline, a hopeful protector but futile shield:

"Close your eyes, Abby." 

Impotent words, like the reflex a mama uses when brakes are slammed and her arm flings across the front seat of the car.

The big sister in the driver's seat says it to the one born 18 months after her, before her brain has time to process their perilous and present reality.

She's lost control of her car and it's spinning spinning spinning and no one wants to see what happens next.
Before the car landed on the wrong side of the road, bruised in front, battered  in back and windshield shattered, I wonder if their young lives flashed behind squinched shut eyes.  Did angels embrace them?

I had hugged them goodbye 14 hours earlier.

* * * * * * *

It was rare gift–

a week-long visit with my sister, brother-in-law and two college-age nieces, something that has never happened before and will likely never happen again.  Nine of us sardined into our small German apartment, learning how to share a single shower, a solitary toilet...life.  It was crazy/wonderful.

My sister and I have almost always been close, bound more tightly due to the death of our mom before she had the chance to buy our first bra.  We needed each other though I suspect we didn't realize it so much back then.

That's why I've always delighted in my nieces' interaction with one another–they're about the same age difference as we were, and their friendship is as thick as the sister-blood running through their veins.  While my own daughter fiercely loves her two younger brothers, I've sometimes felt like I failed her by not providing a sister.

Living on top of one another for a week ~ and I do mean literally when driving short distances ~ we collectively dismissed convenience, privacy and loss of comfort; minuscule price to pay for my family investing a week with us in Germany.  My brother-in-law would call such inconveniences "first world problems" because, h e l l o–we're living in and they're visiting EUROPE!

I've never before seen seven days fly by in such a hurry.
* * * * * * * *

The sisters...

my nieces...

their daughters...

make the nine-hour return flight home without incident. 

My sister and her husband planned a few more days exploring Italy on their own, a rare treat and an early celebration for their 26th wedding anniversary.  My husband and I joined them the first night.

Beneath the backdrop of verdant mountains whose peaks shyly hid behind clouds, my brother-in-law softly emptied his thoughts:  how fortunate we are to journey this grandeur, something our own parents never experienced before death.  He also admitted a little guilt of the parental variety, questioning their decision to stay longer but sending their daughters home.

Within hours the girls would have a tire blow out and be spinning out of control on I-985 just outside Atlanta, 30 minutes from home.
Thank you, Jesus, thank you, Jesus...they were the ones to tell us.
* * * * * *

There's a happy ending to our story–miraculously no other cars were involved and my nieces weren't injured.

A thousand "could'ves" and "what ifs" creep into our mind, and the only response is to dismiss them with praise and gratitude to the God who loves them more than we do.

But "what if" what "could've" happened, happened?  Would we still be praising and thanking God who loves them more than we do in the face of tragedy?
It's a valid question, isn't it?  Because life can be so hard....

As I consider our (in)courage community, I know many dear ones are facing challenges, and heartbreakingly, even tragedy; not every story has a happy ending or the one we'd choose.  Just remembering Sara reminds me when thousands longed for a different ending, and yet God deemed her worthy to tell that story.   Sara's exquisite testimony continues to travel far and wide because she chose joy in the face of painful human tragedy.

When (not if) you face a time when your faith is tried, when you want to shake angry fists in the face of God, cling to Ancient Truth, our hope, our healing.  My eyes and heart are steeled towards God when I remember ~
His story is being told through my life; only in Christ's presence am I am capable of rejoicing always despite circumstance, and that's the story I so long to share.

His ways and thoughts are not like ours, and though it won't always make sense from an earthly perspective, His is infinitely better. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

Everything...everything...is beautiful in God's time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Every circumstance in my life can be used for my good, God's glory and the advance of the Gospel.  (Even the hard or horrible ones...especially the hard or horrible ones??)

Close calls provide opportunity to consider what I hope my response would be in a worst-case scenario, when the actual outcome is far better.  And when the circumstance is "worst-case," I'm thankful for the truth of 2 Corinthians 1:3-4:

No life experience is wasted ~ that is grace upon grace!  During the storms, God is refining, maturing and conforming us to the image of Christ; eventually, in turn, to be able to encourage and minister to others who find themselves in similar circumstances.
Do you have "close call" stories to share?  How has difficult life circumstances enabled or emboldened you to minister to others?  Or how has someone else's experience been precious to you?

by Robin Dance, a seeker of Truth and beauty.

[Judy Harder]

If only you saw what I can see.

Aug 16, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver


I have a confession.

And it's an embarrassing one.

But I'm going to tell you anyway.

I love that pop song by the teenage boy band, What Makes You Beautiful. And when I say I love it, I don't just mean I think it's catchy and will hum along should it happen to come on the radio. Oh no. I mean that I will search it out on the radio, crank it up and sing along as loudly as my far-from-teenaged lungs can manage. I mean that I have convinced my four-year-old it's our favorite song. I mean that I have been driven to defend it to my friends who point out (and rightfully so, I suppose) that I am about 20 years past that band's target audience, and don't I feel just a little ridiculous?

Yeah, I really love it.

Why? Why am I obsessed with such a fan of this silly song? Is it that the first notes of the song (and the video, if you must know) echo the song Summer Nights from Grease, one of my favorite musicals/chick flicks/movies ever? Is it that I admire the songwriter's audacity to consider rhyming "make-up" and "cover up" acceptable? Is it that I simply love the floppy hair and sweet harmonies of British boy bands?

Um, no. (Although, I'm not going to start lying now. I do love every single one of those things.)

I love this song because it says the words I long to hear. At first, I only recognized my desire to be seen as beautiful. I mean, really, what girl (30-something years old or not) doesn't want to hear someone say this? "You're turning heads when you walk through the door. Don't need make-up to cover up. Being the way that you are is enough."

Despite that ridiculous rhyme in the middle, those words are sweet. And sometimes a person just needs to hear that she's beautiful!

But this song speaks to a deeper desire than just that. If I take the lyrics of this song to heart (I'm not saying I do, but maybe I do.), I begin to think, even if just for the moment that it's airing on the radio, that I have something special to offer.

You're insecure (don't know what for!)
If only you saw what I can see!
Everyone else in the room can see it,everyone else but you.

How many times have I wished, so desperately, that someone would notice me? That someone would recognize my potential? That someone would look me in the eye and say, "Hey! I see you. I see you, Mary. I see you and I understand you and I think you are fabulous. God has given you amazing gifts, and I can't wait to see how you're going to use them. You are His wonderful creation, and I see it."

I don't think that desire ends with adolescence. I think that desire lives in many of our hearts our entire lives. And that's why I'm not actually all that embarrassed to belt out this song as I cruise into the grocery store parking lot or preschool pick-up line.

Throughout my life I've been blessed to have a few people who have said those words to me. (Granted, they neither rhymed nor danced while saying them, but I'll take what I can get.) Most recently, my friend Janet has sat across the table from me and shared the most kind, encouraging, I-believe-in-you words I've heard in years. That conversation – or, more accurately, those multiple conversations, because she has continued to feed my spirit with encouragement – changed my life. It really did. Those words healed so many hurts and eased frustrations and, I'm not kidding, changed my life.

I'm beyond grateful for that friendship and those conversations. That's not to say my needy emotional tank will stay full and I'll stop loving What Makes You Beautiful and boy bands. But it does mean that I've been thinking more lately about who I need to say those words to.

For the past few weeks, my church has shared a series of messages about just this. We've heard about how God speaks to us – or sends others to speak to us – to tell us, "I see something awesome in you." Of course we all have unique gifts, talents, personalities and experiences inside for someone to notice, but this series has been a great reminder that a few things remain true for every single one of us. So I want to tell you something.

Hey. I see you. Yes, you, reading this post
and wondering why on earth someone would write hundreds of words about a boy band pop song.
I see you, and I think you are fabulous.
You are God's wonderful creation. He made you, and He loves you.
He loves you so much He sent His son to die for your sins.
Yeah. That much.
And He made you for such a time as this, for the place and time you are living right now.
He made you for this, and you are going to shine. I just know it.
I see you, and you are beautiful.
If only you saw what I can see! Really, if only you saw what God can see. You may not know you're beautiful, but I promise you are. Just read these words, these words that are so much more true and real and important than any pop song lyrics:

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother's womb.
I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.
(Psalm 139:13-16, MSG)

You were created by God. And just like when He created the first man and woman, "God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." (Genesis 1: 31) He knows you. He sees you. And He thinks you are wonderful.

Has anyone ever told you how beautiful (wonderful, talented, special, amazing) you are? Have you heard God, your very Creator, tell you those truths? Do you believe it?

.


By: Mary, Giving Up on Perfect







When Grown Girls Need A Dad

Aug 16, 2012 01:10 am | Amber Cadenas




I'm riding out the storm in my car.

My husband and I fought, and the fear hounds fierce, so I take keys with trembling lips, my eyes a dam ready to blow. No one warned us marriage could be this hard, this quick – a nonstop flight from wedding fiesta to furnace, no layover in honeymoon bliss. On my way to the door, he catches me, looks me in the eyes, says he loves me so much even though the anger's hot. But I drop my gaze, mumble a weak "I love you, too." I can't flee fast enough.

One mile down the road, I pull into the park's lot, far from the one car that remains. The engine dies and I howl with the wind bending trees outside my door. Fingers on the phone, I wonder who to call in this state of hysteria. And I am hysterical. Better not inflict this on anyone. Better not call someone who needs an explanation, when I don't really know myself. I drop the phone and my head against the steering wheel. The only one I know to call is my Dad. He's the only one who will understand.

It's Father's Day, and my dad's nearly four years dead. But I know another Dad who will answer.

I rifle through CDs, desperate to find the one I need. It's all scratched up in a homemade paper envelope, but I think it's the one. I slip it in and wait. The music of the first song slices the aching silence that holds my wailing, and I know my Dad has answered the call.

One thing I know that I have found
Through all the troubles that surround
You are the Rock that never fails
You never fail

One thing I know that I believe
Through every blessing I receive
You are the only One that stays, You always stay

You never change, You're still the same
You are the Everlasting God
You will remain after the day is gone and things of earth have passed
Everlasting God

I'm here an hour and a half, reclining in my seat, weeping and singing, praying and resting. I watch the wind whip the trees, the light slowly fading as day prepares its bed. A familiar peace seeps into my heart, a voice on the wind whispering, Be still, child. I am here. Tense muscles and swollen eyes relax into invisible arms. I am not alone here. Not anywhere.

He comforts me through song,through wind, through silence. There's no other place I want to be; I am as an infant soothed in his arms. And finally I know, that he's got us in his hands – both of us – as he has the whole world. I'm crying now for love, for the Father who loves me fierce and steady and true. I love him because he loved me first. I love him because he'll never leave. I love him because, no matter how bad it gets, this world is not all there is. He has not left us as orphans.



Words from long ago resound in my heart, bringing the night full circle: "And they will call him 'Immanuel,' which means 'God is with us' (Matthew 1:23)... And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6).

Yes, he is all these things – and infinitely more – in less than two hours. I can return home.

I step inside the door, my husband rises from his seat and opens his arms, and we embrace in messy love.

Thank you, Dad.


By Amber Cadenas, Beautiful Rubbish