(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

When You Need To Lower Your Expectations This Christmas
Dec 01, 2012 12:20 am | Kristen Strong




The air moved thick with anticipation of summer and our family's Disney vacation. Before the big departure day arrived, I asked one of my favorite Orlando girls, Stacey, what non-obvious essentials we should pack. She replied with many helpful ideas but told me no matter what I brought, definitely leave expectations of a perfectly magical vacation at home.

I took her words to heart. And lo and behold, once I left the pie-in-the-sky-expectations outside my heart's luggage, there was so much more room to relax and enjoy. Because real magic happens when you forget grand ideals and embrace reality. And the reality is family vacations will include cranky moods, tired behavior  - and for us – an ugly virus. In spite of it all, our vacation was one of my most favorites, and we brought home triple helpings of good-for-the-heart family memories.

So now it's 6 months later, and the mountains outside my window play hide-and-seek behind whirling snow. I make a mental checklist of Christmas plans and feel my heart whirling as the pressure of creating a magical Christmas presses in. I want to bake cookies every Friday with the kids. I want to shop etsy.com and Hobby Lobby to find delightful decorations. I want to see the Nutcracker ballet and hear the Presbyterian choir perform Handel's Messiah and look at Christmas lights in every neighborhood.

I'm plumb worn out just thinking of it all when Stacey's words come back to me:

Leave expectations of a perfectly magical {Christmas} behind.

It's a message I needed last Christmas.  The combination of an already stressful December with my desire to cram multiple memory making opportunities into the season culminated in me unleashing a massive fit.  And on Christmas Eve of all days, I told my kids to shut up.

Nothing says Merry Christmas! like telling your kids to shut up.

Lord help me, I do not want to star in a repeat of that performance.

This I do know: While the season will hold many beautiful moments, it will also hold cranky kids hyped up on sugar cookies and fudge. It will hold tired parents who stay up too late assembling bicycles and stockings. It may even hold ornery company that gets a kick out of stirring up trouble.

So while I expect a disaster or two to invade the season, I am determined not to create an environment that makes it worse. We'll keep our favorite traditions while releasing the rest. After all, too much doing leaves little room for enjoying.

And if in the middle of the Christmas celebrations I find things headed south, I will pray "In the name of Jesus, change my mood, their moods, our motives. Help us see each other as Jesus does."  And if I have to, I will go into my bathroom, close the door, and over an altar-sink ask God to redeem the day with His grace.

When it comes down to it, Christmas is blessedly simple. It's about a baby born in a humble manger, when Hope for the hopeless lit up the world on a dark, starry night. More than anything, I want my family to experience the joy and freedom that comes with this Gift. Because when that happens, we'll have all the Christmas magic we need.

Do you struggle with keeping your Christmas expectations down to earth? How do you reorient yourself with a realistic perspective? How do you focus first and foremost on Jesus?

Kristen Strong, wishing you a very Merry Christmas at Chasing Blue Skies

[Judy Harder]

A Sunday Scripture
Dec 02, 2012 12:20 am | Mary Carver




He says, "Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."
Psalm 46:10

[Judy Harder]

Great Joy
Dec 03, 2012 07:35 am | Jennifer




Fear not.

Good tidings of great joy.

Unto you.

A savior is born.

Christ the Lord.

He is where our joy comes from. From Him and Him alone. That is the joy of Christmas.

Offering you this special reminder of our joy this season, with this free PDF printable. Just click on the image and you will be able to open or download this image, that you can then print to use in your home this Christmas season.



In the top photo, I took this print and matted it in an 11″x14″ white mat and then framed it in a black wooden frame. The black outline of the print is 7.5″x9.5″, it should fit most frames or mats with an 8″x10″ opening. If you need more space, just keep a white border around the black outline.

Wishing you and your family a joyful Christmas season!

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

[Judy Harder]

Beauty in Brokenness
Dec 04, 2012 12:20 am | Lisa Leonard




I talk often about how imperfect life is. Sometimes with all the beautiful photos we put up on our blogs, it's easy to think that someone's life is perfect or charmed. And while I'm surrounded by so many blessings, I'm also surrounded by so much brokenness.

I have a friend who's struggling with depression, another who is facing infertility, a friend who was in a horrible car accident and the marriage of some close friends is crumbling around them. Brokenness is everywhere.

Meanwhile in my own life I'm caring for a ten year old who still has to be diapered, fed and given medication three times a day. He is also tons of fun, super silly and the best snuggle bug, but the drain that comes from meeting his needs day in and day out is real. Not to mention all of the other responsibilities that fill up my day.

I look around me and I see all this brokenness—but what's even harder for me to look at is the brokenness in my own heart. I am self-centered, prone to fatigue, and sometimes discouraged. I think I'm doing just fine, being productive and full of energy, when all of the sudden I feel angry and resentful.

Isn't this the stuff of life? The comfort of the mundane can drive us to insanity. The joys of being a mother are overshadowed by feelings of failure. And the beauty of a new day is clouded by a long to-do list.

I am broken. I am needy. I can't fix myself. That's where I see the incredible beauty of God's grace. There is hope in that broken and needy place.

Psalm 34:18 The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.





Measuring in Inches
Dec 04, 2012 12:10 am | Andra Loy




My son overheard me asking my husband if we had enough gas to get to the zoo in Ostrava.  So the whole drive he sat in the backseat, stressing about getting there on a low tank of gas and finally asked, "How many inches is it to Ostrava?"

I kept my snort to a quiet minimum and told him he could convert kilometers to inches when we got home.  Then I added, "It's a LOT."

Why is it funny?  Because it's ridiculous to measure something so far with such tiny measurements.  But he's six years old.  Kilometers (because we live in Europe) mean nothing to him.  He's little and little inches make sense.

But isn't that exactly what we do?  We view our life and our circumstances with our little measurements.

"How much longer do I have to put up with this?" "Our family was sick for three weeks in a row!"

"Only two months until Christmas – I'll never have the shopping done by then."

"Only three people responded to my invitation."

And how does our Father measure?  The distance from star to star, eternity.  And in the same way as measuring 36 kilometers with inches, it's ridiculous to measure our lives, our circumstances, without using eternal measurements.  How much less complicated would it be (although mind-blowing)(which is actually a good, fun thing) for my son to use kilometers?  It takes no genius to see that the less math we have to use, the easier and simpler the issue.

Yet why does using kilometers take less math?  Because the distance to the zoo is already measured in kilometers, not inches.  And our lives are already measured, originally conceived and created on the eternal level.

When we try to convert our issues into minutes, days, years – numbers – we end up with bloated perspective (like one million, four hundred and seventy two thousand, three hundred and twenty two inches to the zoo).  This translates into impatience, stress, worry, and depression.

We must view life in the light of eternity and measure our days with eternal measurements.   "Why has God allowed this issue in my life?"  "What is God trying to teach me?"  "What is the important thing I need to focus on right now?"  "These people in my life were hand-picked by God for me to encourage and minister to; how can I do that?"  These are not the ridiculous questions.  These questions measure in God's kilometers.

by Andra (I Need a Napkin)

[Judy Harder]

5 Steps to Forgiving Yourself
Dec 05, 2012 12:20 am | Sarah Markley




"I'm just so stupid!!" One of my daughters face-palms herself after a mistake she's made. And I'll admit, it's a big one.

"No you aren't. You just made a poor choice." I go to her, gather her and do my best to infuse truth into her heart and somehow layer it over the lies that have begun to reside there.

I have never told her she is stupid or bad or unlovable. To the contrary. I try to combat those outside influences each day of their lives.

You know you're amazing.

You are so smart.

You've done your best, that's all you can do!

But even my girls are prime examples of just how hard we are on ourselves.

My 10 year old can run 3 good barrel runs but if she disqualifies on her fourth, she's in tears. My 6 year old can stop the attempted goals for a whole soccer game but if she lets one sneak through as goalie, she can't seem to forgive herself.

Why is it so hard? And why are we so hard on ourselves?

As adults we've seen so much more in our own lives worth forgiving then letting soccer goals squeak by or going off course in a barrel race. We've made big bad poor choices that really do affect our own hearts and the lives of others.

We've betrayed people and spouses and we've lied to people that didn't deserve to be lied to. We've stolen and held anger close and we've been bitter. We've also simply made big, life-altering but unavoidable mistakes that have hurt and tripped others and ourselves.

As adults, we've done a lot of things over our lifetimes that truly deserve a face-palm.

Probably the most common question I hear when you tell me your stories is this one:

How did you learn to forgive yourself?

I'm not a step-by-step formula girl, but I've tried to drill it down to five steps, more or less, that have helped me come from a place of understanding the mistakes I've made to being able to forgive myself. {And I've made a few big ones in my time.}

1. Take responsibility for what is yours but not for what is not yours. Here's what I mean. To begin to forgive ourselves we must realize that we actually did do something stupid or silly or wrong or unthoughtful. We have to take responsibility for our actions and behaviors that led us to the place. But we also shouldn't take responsibility for the mistakes and wrongs of others. If my 1st grader gets in a tussle on the playground and screams angrily at another kid, she should take responsibility for what she has done wrong, but not for the actions of the other child. Those of us who are hard on ourselves often take too much blame and we take blame that is not ours.

2. Start speaking the truth. The truth is, you've already been forgiven. The truth is, your mistakes do not define you. The truth is, you are not alone. The truth is, the grace and forgiveness of God are bigger than all of us and our mistakes combined. The truth is, God has deemed us worthy of His forgiveness. When we begin to speak these things we also begin to believe them. And the truth is, your journey to forgiving yourself is one that God with travel with you each step of the way.

3.  Embrace grace. Bask in it. Observe it in action. Watch for it. Become an expert in it so you can recognize it when you see it. Begin receiving it from others if you don't. Those of us who are hard on ourselves are also hard recipients of grace. We don't accept it from ourselves (it's why we are on this journey) and often we don't accept it from others.

4. Forgive others. One of the best ways I know how to begin doing something is to practice it. If we practice forgiving one another, the forgiving of our own mistakes comes all the quicker.

5. Let others speak the truth into your life when you forget it. Sometimes we need good, objective truth-speakers in our lives to help remind us that we have already been forgiven. Maybe it is a good friend, a mentor, a counselor or a fellow {in}courage community member. None of us can journey on our own, ever, so even in this it is good to have solid, strong people around us to tell us that we are worthy of forgiveness. And to tell us once in awhile that:

we are amazing,

we are smart,

and we've done the best we can.

Do you have trouble forgiving yourself? What things have helped you?

[Judy Harder]

Your Most Destructive Thought
Dec 06, 2012 12:20 am | Jessica Turner


photo by Emily Freeman

Are you someone who thinks a lot about all you have to get done – this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow?

I am.

If I'm really honest with you, I often live gripped by the stress of what I have to do.

To do lists litter my life.

They are suffocating me.

Tell me I am not alone.

Right now I am sitting in a coffee shop, trying to bang out these words for you, but my mind keeps getting distracted by the items waiting for me at home, as well as what needs to be accomplished at work tomorrow.

This fall I had the opportunity to attend a few Women of Faith conferences. At one of the events, Christine Caine said that our most destructive thought is tomorrow.

Her words hit me to the core.

And in this season of reflection the of God of the universe coming to earth as a baby, I can't help but be challenged to slow down and focus on what is in front of me today.

He did.

Scripture says, do not worry about tomorrow. Today has enough trouble of its own.

Will you pray with me?

Lord, we are so distracted. Help us to live focused on what you have in front of us TODAY. We want to live a life of fruit and not become destructive. Give us clarity, purpose and intention to do what it is you have for us, in this moment, today. Amen.





Finding Christ in the Chaos
Dec 06, 2012 12:10 am | tanya @ truthinweakness



I was running late that Sunday morning, and my husband wasn't able to join us for church. That meant the responsibility to get my son checked in on the first floor, then dropped off at his classroom at the end of the second floor, was all going to fall on me. Running late is stressful enough, but the thought of bearing all that rushing around on my own caught up with me before we left the house, and it spilled out in an impatient verbal crescendo.

My son and I spent the 30-minute drive listening only to the pouring rain instead of the radio. Highly unusual for this music lover, but I was wound up and seriously needed to chill. I apologized to him for surrendering to my flesh, instead of Jesus. But in light of our late departure, and the task still at hand, my heart, mind, and body remained in quite a frenzy.

We pulled into the parking lot just minutes before church started, trudged through the rain, and got my son checked in. Then, half way up the steps, he announced that he had to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, there isn't one on the second floor, so back down the steps we went. And because my heels weren't made for hiking, I almost tripped my way down the steps. Close call.

While he was in the bathroom, I took my phone out of my pocked and sighed when I saw that it was 11:04. Four minutes into worship already, and I still had a ways to go.

When he was done, we hiked back up to the second floor (this time more heel wise), and I dropped him off. Then I walked back down the stairs, down the hallway, across the short outdoor walkway to the other building {noticing I was so late that the greeters had already left}, down the long corridor, around the corner to the next hallway {did I mention I go to a large church?}, around yet another corner, and through the lobby toward the entrance. All at a brisk pace. By the time I stepped through the doors and into the worship center, I felt like I had run a marathon.

Surrounded by souls engaged in heart-felt praise and worship, I found my seat like a driver going 60mph who had just spotted the stop sign ahead.
Slam on breaks.
Screeching halt.
Worship mode: GO!

Frazzled and exhausted, I knew there was no way I could flip that impossible switch. Then I remembered something our pastor shared recently. He told us that the name, Noah, means rest.
In the middle of chaos.

So I thought, "Okay, somehow I can find Rest here."

I longed to find Christ amidst my chaos and draw my own soul to worship. But how? . . .

As that thought wandered through my mind, these words began to ascend around me:
O the blood of Jesus washes me.
Yes, the blood it is my victory . . .

And then I knew.

That was the "how" for finding Christ in my chaos. God reminded me that messy morning that the blood of Christ holds the power to worship Him in the middle of my mess – not me! Not a smooth Sunday morning, not tidy life circumstances.

So be encouraged, friend. We're not dependent on our hearts, minds, or bodies feeling in a state of worship – to worship. In fact, our ability to worship isn't dependent on us at all. We're dependent only on the blood of Christ.

It alone IS our victory.

By Tanya, Truth in Weakness






Redeeming Home
Dec 05, 2012 04:04 pm | Kristen Welch


He bangs around in the attic for more than an hour and comes out with insulation in his hair. The air conditioner service man has been working on the ducts that run to our master bedroom, trying to rework the system that leaves the room 10 degrees warmer than the rest of the house.

It's winter and it's toasty, but not from the fire in the belly of the fireplace, it's a Texas winter, the only kind I know. We run our air most months of the year down in these parts.

But the lights from my tree twinkle and the stocking are hung over the unlit fire. We pretend there's a chill in the air and don't let it bother us much.

He calls, "Miss?" At least 10 years younger than my 40 year old body, I answer. Before he gives me the news, he says, "You're a Christian."

It's not a question or accusation, it's a fact. I wonder for a minute at his declaration. I have known this man face-to-face for less time than it takes to answer my front door and open the attic. I marvel at his estimation of me. He must see my question mark face and so he says: "It's your home. It tells the Jesus story."



I see the hand towels at the stove, the God is Good canvas on the wall, the Nativity on the entry table, the family mission statement on the mantel and then Redeemed Christmas pillow on the couch.

I smile wide.

Is there ever a greater compliment to a home?

We talk for over thirty minutes about Jesus, his gift to us at Christmas, about our work in Africa and mostly about redemption. He finishes up his work, covered under warranty and I can't remember the last time I had a better guest in my home.

My floors are dirty, counters cluttered, table sticky. But a stranger felt God in my house and I can't think of a better gift this season.

written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family

This month find the Redeemed Christmas Kitchen Accessory Set on Sale at DaySpring! The set includes tea towels, apron and potholders.

 

[Judy Harder]

Giving yourself away
Dec 07, 2012 12:20 am | Robin Dance




One of my favorite things to do is to gift someone I love with something I know they'll love:
Surcies, little love gifts, the value of which is seeded in the thoughtfulness of the gift, not its pricetag.  It's why giving a giftcard or cash is  s o  v e r y  h a r d; for me, gift-giving is an intimate, personal expression of my relationship with the recipient and not just anything will do.  Overall, gift giving is the least of my love languages because if you don't give to me (or I don't give to you) it doesn't mean I'll feel unloved or I don't care or love you; in my crazy head, Nothing itself is better than a hollow something (am I even making sense??).

One of my least favorite things to do is to give out of obligation or because a day on the calendar mandates it.
This is the part of the Christmas season I struggle with, excess to those who don't need a thing and a culture that shouts bigger is better and more is never enough.  Even in Christian circles, lovies.

I admire those who are smart enough, crazy enough, restrained enough or counter-culture enough to disassociate gift-giving with Christmas within their family, and instead give to those who have materially little to nothing.

I do hope you hear me:  I'm not saying that Christmas gift-giving to family and friends is bad or wrong; but based on the time invested in shopping and the amount of money spent from Black Friday through Christmas Eve, sometimes our focus is skewed.  Again, even in Christian circles.

It's simple and yet so complicated.  We give because God gave.
Thinking on Jesus' humble, magnificent, unimaginably difficult, astonishing birth stills my soul's thrashing during the Christmas Season and helps me to align giving with joy–

In the gift of Christ's life, we can know God intimately and personally (John 14: 6-7).  In Him, we receive forgiveness and redemption (Ephesians 1:7-10) and every spiritual blessing (Ephesians 1:3).  And in Christ, we receive salvation and eternal life (John 3:16-17).

When giving is initiated and motivated by love for God, it changes everything.
I suppose that's why handmades, homemades and re-mades are my favorite–they're birthed in and from thought, intention, time...and love.


Anything your two little hands produce for me, I will love and appreciate beyond expressable words. And another, perhaps less-often-thought-of item that falls into this category is what I call re-mades; think re-gifting but instead of something given to you that you don't care for, it's something you already own that means a lot to you; when you gift it, you're in essence giving a tiny piece of your heart.  For example, my friend Amy collects camels; when we were saying our good-byes prior to my out-of-state move, she gave me a tiny one from her collection as a remembrance.  Another dear friend, Erin, knew I collected elephants and gave me a small one of hers for the same reason.  Book re-mades are among the best, especially when it contains personal notes in the margins.  Anyone who reads one of my marked up books no longer wonders what I'm really thinking.

Gifts from your hands and heart is a small way of giving yourself as a gift.
Please join us this month in sharing your stories and ideas for handmades, homemades and remades ~

Have you posted a tutorial about how to make a meaningful craft or DIY project others might enjoy giving to others?
Do you have a time-treasured recipe for special seasonal treats others are begging for each year?
Would you be willing to share a story (in comments or by linking a new or old blog post) about a special gift you've given or received?
As I'm writing this post, it's surprising to me to realize how often I've written about special gifts–the wonderful idea I had for my husband's 40th birthday, the last gift from my father (though we didn't realize it would be at the time)...and a lavish, desperately-needed gift from God.

PLEASE share your stories and ideas.  I'll leave the linky thingamajig open til Christmas Eve, and if you don't have a blog, please share in the comments.  The recipe I'm linking is from my mother-in-law: homemade butter mints are fancy, delicious, melt-in-your-mouth sugared art.

With joy by Robin Dance

[Judy Harder]

For the Tangles In Your Story
Dec 08, 2012 12:20 am | Kristen Welch


As a young girl, a friend taught me to cross stitch. I loved seeing her beautiful creations and I quickly learned it takes a lot of little x's to make a picture. I didn't love the tedious sewing work, but I was eager to create something.  I would count the rows and put one X after another. My work wasn't neat, my knots were bumpy and my stitches imperfect and when I turned my fabric over, the backside looked like a tangled mess.

Sort of like the story of my life. 



When I was in the 8th grade, I was in a peer program in my public school.  The peer program matched older students with younger ones. I was paired with a high risk 5th grader.

Her name was Tiffany. And she changed my life. Or at least the way I viewed my life.
I grew up in a sheltered home. I had loving parents and a great church.  My biggest concern was complexion outbreaks.
I'll never forget the day I met Tiffany.  The school counselor introduced us.  I knew she came from a tough environment, but I don't think I even knew what that meant. When she walked through the door, my first impression was, "this is what poor looks like."  Her clothes were dirty and threadbare.  She wore a mismatched headband in her tangled hair.  She looked sad.  And so much older than she should. She also was tall for her age, and appeared to be just a size under me.
Our first meeting was awkward. The second time, we talked.  I will never forget what she told me. "My mom ran off last year. She left me with her ex-boyfriend. It's just me and him and he's mean to me."
I didn't know what to say, so I hugged her.
I still remember what I felt in that tiny room.  I wanted to help Tiffany.  I had never met a desperate child before.  It was the first time my heart broke for someone other than myself.
Through tears, I told my mom and sister Tiffany's story at home that night.  They agreed that we had to do something.  My sister and I filled 3 huge bags with clothes and shoes.  I remember going through my costume jewelry and picking out some of my favorite things for her.
I had never given anyone something of mine before.  And it felt good. Handing my used things to a flabbergasted, grateful girl was a defining moment for me.  We both cried and hugged.  I saw the hope in her eyes.
I couldn't wait to see her in new clothes.
But I never did.  The next time we were supposed to meet, she was gone. The counselor explained that her stepfather withdrew her from school.  No contact information. No forwarding address.  I tried to explain what she told me.  The counselor patted me on the shoulder and gave me the name of a new student to meet with.
I never heard another word about her, but I never forgot Tiffany.
My life went on much the same, but I was different.  I also struggled to make sense of why I couldn't have helped Tiffany more.  Every time I thought of her, I said a quick prayer.
Five years later, I was a freshman in college 200 miles from home.  I had just landed a coveted job as a tutor for The Texas Baptist Home for Children.  It paid $12.00 an hour, a fortune for a new college student.
I got into the swing of tutoring these troubled kids after my classes.  The State of Texas had removed them from their homes for various reasons.  I mainly tutored elementary kids.
I came in one day, feeling down. I was dealing with the normal anxieties of young adult life. And I felt alone, away from home for the first time and questioning my purpose.
A new student had been assigned to me.  Her name was Tiffany.
It took a few minutes of us staring across the table at each other, getting acquainted.  And then we jumped up and hugged.
A hundred questions tumbled out of my mouth.  She filled in the years since we'd last seen each other.  The State had removed her two years before.  She was safe.  Happy.  And she still carried a piece of the jewelry I had given her.  There was hope in her eyes.
Our reunion was brief because Tiffany was permanently placed into a home.  A real home.
His eye in on the sparrow....He knew I would meet Tiffany again one day.  He had woven the tapestry of our lives together.
Thirty years later, the back of my tapestry still looks a little messy and tangled. I fret and question and worry myself into knots.
But I'm reminded He sees each of us and He is weaving a beautiful story with our lives. We don't always understand the mess, the trials, the mundane, but He is there. Sometimes He is quiet like the gentle love of a friend, other times, He is loud, like the earthquake of an unexpected miracle.
He is always working in us and through us and in the end, it doesn't matter how we get there, it's that we get there.
If you are holding pieces today, or trying to unwind tangles in your life, offer it to Him. God fits the broken pieces together and is the ultimate recycler of our tangled story. For his glory.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family

[Judy Harder]

The Good Side Of Conflict
Dec 10, 2012 12:20 am | Lysa




When I was in my early twenties, there was nothing I disliked more than conflict. I won't use the tired cliché that I avoided it like the plague. But, since I just used it anyhow, I'll admit I tried to navigate around conflict at any cost. Especially at the holidays. I mean who wants to address issues in between bites of Grandma's fudge and Aunt Jane's turkey casserole?

I was a 'stuff it and smile' kind of girl. The problem with pretending to be fine when you're really not, is all that pent up steam will eventually come out. And if you've ever held your hand too close to steam, you know how it can burn.

A much healthier approach to the inevitable conflicts we all must deal with during holidays and every day is to face the issue head on with grace and humility having asked ourselves one very crucial question. This question is so crucial that might I dare say not asking it could lead to extreme conflict escalation rather than relationship restoration.

So, what's this crucial question?

Am I trying to prove or improve? That's the question. In other words, is my desire in this conflict to prove that I am right or to improve the relationship at hand?

When I try to prove I am right, I use the circumstances of the conflict as an arsenal to attack the other person. I come armed with past hurts and offenses ready to state my case. I'm tempted to tear down the other person. I react from a place of hurt and anger and can often say things I later regret.

On the other hand, when my desire is to improve the relationship, I seek to understand where the other person is coming from and I care enough about the relationship to fight for it rather than against it. Instead of reacting out of anger, I pause and let the Holy Spirit interrupt my first impulses. I tackle the issues, not the person.

Here are some great questions to ask when we're dealing with conflict out of a desire to improve a relationship:

• Can you help me understand why you feel this way?
• Why don't we both agree to stick to the issue at hand and not pull in past issues?
• What is your desired outcome in this situation?
• How can we meet in the middle on this issue?

My husband I have renamed what we used to call "fights." We now call them "growth opportunities." And the more we've been practicing these principles, the less conflicts we've been having.

But I won't tie this devotion up in a neat holiday bow and end all "cheerio." While Art and I are doing great right now and have had very few "growth opportunities" lately, conflicts with others seem to always be around the corner. So please hear my heart, I'm not saying all of this is easy. Just this week I've had to tackle some growth opportunities that made me feel like I had fire crackers burning through my veins.

Maybe you can relate.

What I will say is that it's possible to let those conflicts lead us to better places in our relationships. Improved places. And that is the good side of conflict.

By Lysa TerKeurst

In Lysa's new book, Unglued, she shares personal experiences and scriptural wisdom to help us make right, godly and healthy decisions with our reactions. Click here to order your copy today!

[Judy Harder]

Six Questions That Might Just Change a Life
Dec 11, 2012 12:10 am | Kati Gibson


Perhaps time isn't the enemy – maybe it's how we use it.



In a world of spinning to do lists, places to go, things to plan, and people to love — how do we
remember the most important person of all?

Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is,
seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you
died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears,
then you also will appear with him in glory. ~ The Apostle Paul, Colossians 3:1-4 NIV

Perhaps we're designed to do it together.

At the breakfast table, we gather. Slurping milk from bowls of cereal, crunching granola, asking
questions.

"What has God been teaching you?"

"Who have you been loving on, investing in, or encouraging?"

"Who have you been praying for? "

"What have you learned from someone?"

"Do you have any news to share about the Christians around the world?"

"How can I help you?"

And in this place — at home, with family around the table. With friends holding cups of coffee –
it's safe here.

It's safe to even say  –

"I have no idea. I'm just barely keeping my own head above water."

Then we walk together. We walk the roads together until we are not only surviving but truly
living. Possibly even carrying each others burdens?




What if we all stopped for just for a moment and asked.

Yes, ask as we gather for meals with our family — of course. But what about you and I — them and they?

Through talking,

we're loving

learning

teaching

educating

encouraging

helping.

Maybe this would do so much more for us than talking about last nights TV show or even
possibly the weather?

Maybe this simple little thing could start a revolution.

Carry each others burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. ~ Galatians 6 NIV, The Apostle Paul

I thank my God every time I remember you. ~ Philippians 1 NIV, The Apostle Paul written along side his friend, Timothy

A friend loves at all times. ~ Proverbs 17 NIV, King Solomon

The beauty of it all, friends? If six are too many – we can always start with one. {and live}

In the words of Jude, a servant of Christ Jesus and a brother of James – Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.

{Lovingly living} along side you, in humbleness & Grace ~

Kati at Our Glorious Days ; )






A Hijacked Hat Party
Dec 10, 2012 11:00 pm | Amber Haines




A few years ago, Seth and I hosted what we called an Old Man's Hat Party, alluding to the nursery rhyme: Christmas is coming. The goose is getting fat. Please put a penny in the old man's hat. It was absolutely some of the most fun we've ever had, with the spread of food and hot drinks – our friends from several circles joining in one boisterous room. We had placed a hat by the back door, and as our friends joined us, they put money in the hat and then wrote their favorite charity down on a small piece of paper. At the end of the night we drew three charities and got to hear about the good works of each, organizations like Kidmia, Mercy House, and 99 Balloons. After hearing and secretly rooting for one, we drew one final time to decide who got all the money.  This year we knew we had to do it again and wanted to shift the focus even more to a time of worship. I had planned to move most of our furniture out of the way and not worry so much with the food spread. We sent an invitation to about 80 people, but as it got closer to time and our little one, Titus, became more ill, I became overwhelmed and sent out sad word that we would be canceling the party. Pure Charity was to sponsor it this time, and I was broken-hearted to not have all our friends in one room doing such good together for those in need, but somehow I knew I couldn't handle it all. I struggled but finally felt resolved to not overdo our family.

The truth is that we're worn out from worry and hospital stays, from ministry and so much output without stopping to take nourishment in. We may have been inviting so many over because we hadn't worshipped together since Titus' immune issues came up. One always has to stay home with the baby.

So when our dear friend texted and asked for the information to get into our evite account, I knew I smelled a rat. I knew they were up to something that involved calling US the needy ones, and I didn't like it one bit.



Our friends, our Jesus family, they came to a cancelled party at our friend's home, and the house was loud with laughing, and there was a table of food, and a record player sent the music out until we gathered quietly together and sang such praise to Jesus. I could have been on my face. I could have disappeared, been like dust under the couch. I was so small.

My girlfriend who hosted corrected my begging when I had asked them not to do it. She assured me that it wasn't about us, the hat by the door to help cover our doctor bills. When we prayed together for Titus, we began with a silence that said nothing but holy, holy, holy, then we whispered Titus' name, and we said words like JOY and healing. We proclaimed the goodness of the LORD even when we didn't understand our circumstance.

Something happened in me because of these friends that hasn't happened in a long time. When I first heard the gospel, I knew I was starving for righteousness with no way to fill myself. This night, the night of the Hijacked Hat Party, I felt it again: my nothingness, the hunger and then the filling, Jesus in the bread, the words read over our ears. How little we have to offer, how tiny we float about in this universe, but then how one hands you an envelope like a payment for work you never did.

I associated myself with the poor, not from the position of giver but rather as receiver, and it hurt and it healed. Suffering, in all its varying degrees, seems to work that way, intertwining wholeness with brokenness.

Worshipping among friends, I looked up to one raising his hands, the one who had lost his daughter. I felt that I looked on ones who reflected Jesus. I felt the compassion of Christ to us all, how He took such poor position on our behalf. I considered it all joy, felt Christmastime in my bones. What an honor it is, church, to be among those who take and eat of such lavishness, how absurd to receive such love.

post by Amber C Haines