(IN)Courage

Started by Judy Harder, January 17, 2012, 09:15:37 AM

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Judy Harder

Searching For All the Lost Child Artists
May 13, 2013 01:10 am | Matt Appling




Matt Appling is a former child artist turned art teacher, pastor and writer.  His work is helping children and adults in creative and spiritual pursuits.

His first book, Life After Art, was released by Moody Publishers April 2013 and explores the intersection of life, faith, and becoming the people God made us to be.  Matt can be found every week at his blog.



***




Little hands, dancing around the paper.  Faces smiling with gaps where baby teeth are missing.  Chalk and paint and bits of colored paper swirling around.

I stand in the middle of the room and just take it all in.  The noise, the mess, the chaos of pure, innocent creating.

The day I became an art teacher changed my life.  I was a natural child artist.  But the years and worries of adult life had made me long forget what it was like to be a child sitting in the elementary school art room, experiencing the simple, innocent pleasure of creating.

The children were all so carefree, so joyful.  They were so eager to share what they had created, with each other, with me, with their families.  As blank paper was filled with color, I discovered a sense of worship, a feeling of the divine in that room.  It was profound.

All those little kindergartners came into my art room, absolutely perfect.  I wasn't teaching them to be artists.  They already were artists.

But an even bigger revelation was waiting for me as the older children came into my classroom.  Second graders, fourth graders, sixth graders.  It wasn't just that their bodies were bigger or that their brains held more knowledge, or that their hands were more coordinated.

Somehow, quite unexpectedly, the older the students grew, the further they grew away from their kindergarten counterparts, the less free they seemed to act in the art room.  The oldest students were not proud of their work the way the children half their age were.  They did not make bold strokes of the brush with confidence.  They went timidly, fearfully.  It was as if some kind of invisible shackles had attached themselves to their hands.  The bigger the hands, the less confidently they created.

The child artists who entered my room weren't growing...

...they were disappearing.

And as I watched, I realized that every class of students was a mirror in which I saw my own reflection.  I suddenly saw myself as a five-year-old, feet dangling from my chair, creating freely, generously, joyfully.  I saw myself as an eight-year-old, growing in abilities but shrinking in confidence.  I saw myself as a twelve-year-old, a mere shell of my child self, invisible shackles and all.

I realized that you, me, and nearly every adult around us have been living as former child artists for years, decades without realizing it.  And the loss of our identities as child artists has shaped the way we see ourselves, the world, our faith and our purpose profoundly negative ways ever since then.

That is the heart behind Life After Art.  This isn't a book about becoming "artists," or getting tips on becoming more creative or futilely trying to make your life look like your Pinterest boards.  It's about becoming the human that God created you to be.  In fact, if you don't consider yourself "artsy" or creative, you'll find out that this book is exactly for you.

I have spent so many years wondering what my purpose is in life, desperately afraid that I missed God's calling for me.  And what I discovered is that it's not about growing up and learning something new, but looking back and re-learning what was given to us by our Creator...something that we somehow forgot a long time ago.


GIVEAWAY: I am so happy to be giving away five copies of Life After Art to you lovely readers this week.  All you have to do is answer the same question I ask every student on the first day of school:  "Do you think of yourself as a great artist?" You'll find in the book that it doesn't matter what the answer is! Check back on Wednesday for another chance to win.

I hope you'll come visit me soon.  You can find me on my blog or social media or watch the video preview and the first chapter of Life After Art right now! You can also purchase a copy of Life After Art here.



:angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

God's Help Through Loss
Jesus 'Keeps Me Going'
May 14, 2013 01:20 am | Jessica Turner




It's been a hard few months for me. Some days, it has been a struggle to just keep my chin up and keep going.

If someone asked you what keeps you going, what would you say?

I imagine answers like:

I get enough sleep each night.

Eating healthy.

Perseverance.

Maybe even some I don't knows.

I think I would maybe say an inner drive to live life well and make the best of things, no matter what. Life is a gift.

What I don't think I would say is Jesus. At least, I don't think I would have said that until recently.

Can I say that here on (in)courage?

{gulp}

I love Jesus as Lord and Savior of my life, but until recently, I never really thought about my relationship with Him being what keeps me going.

Here's what caused my shift in thinking.

For the past two months, I've working on the social media efforts to spread the word about a cool new album called Everybody Has a Story. The songs were written by former and current patients at Monroe Carell Jr. Children's Hospital at Vanderbilt and sung by some of the best musicians in the business, like Faith Hill, Amy Grant and Vince Gill. One of the songs on the album was written by a girl named Erica Kilburn, a cancer patient who is now with Jesus.



While in the hospital, she covered her room's walls with scripture.

That alone humbles me.

What a powerful picture of someone who loved the Word so much that she blanketed in her hospital room with its truths.

Her music therapist Jenny Plume asked Erica about how she fights her disease and what keeps her so positive. Erica told Jenny, "Jesus is what keeps me going." Those words inspired a beautiful song, sung on Everybody Has a Story by Melinda Doolittle. Read the lyrics below, which are a mix of Erica's story and scripture, or listen to the song in this video.


Health to your marrow and moistening to your  bones
Sing like a sparrow cuz you're not alone
The joy of the Lord is my strength this I know
This is why I hold on

My lips shall greatly rejoice when I sing to you
Oh taste and see that the Lord is good
Give and it shall be given to you
Under his promise I feel strong

Arise take up your bed and walk with me
I once was blind but now I see
All this scripture brings courage to me
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah he's what keeps me going

All things are possible through Christ who strengthens me
If I drink any deadly thing it won't harm me
Your healing shall spring forth speedily
And I will praise you and you alone

Arise take up your bed and walk with me
I once was blind but now I see
All this scripture brings courage to me
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah he's what keeps me going

You thought it would keep me down
But I keep going stronger and stronger
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah, he's what keeps me going

Arise take up your bed and walk with me
I once was blind but now I see
All this scripture brings courage to me
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah he's what keeps me going

Today, embrace Jesus. He will keep you going. Wherever you are. Whatever your struggles. He is with you.

By Jessica Turner from The Mom Creative





:angel: :angel:

May 14, 2013 01:10 am | Maryann




The ultrasound technician wrapped us in comfort with her warm British accent and her kind words:

"It wasn't anything you did, dear...this is just nature's way..."

That evening, I told my friend, Kate, that I was sad and confused...but also okay.  Maybe I was in shock, I suggested, or too numb to feel.  She told me not to analyze that calm feeling but to just accept it as God's peace.  With her words, I was released to lean into that peace – into a God who was good, I knew.

Over the next few days I tried to sort out my theology. I thought, This was meant to be, but the phrase surely didn't sit well in my heart.  I tried, The timing wasn't right, but I knew the timing had been perfect.  Our firstborn son, Isaac, was almost three.  The time it took for us to become pregnant with our second seemed very long.  Surely the Lord wouldn't give us something we had prayed for, then change His mind or decide it wasn't the right time.

The Lord brought comfort to my mind while I was reading a book one morning.  I realized, sickness is not from God, death is not from God.  This loss wasn't from God.  He didn't author it for our family.

With that treasure placed in my heart, I leaned into Him more... into His rest, even released from asking "why."

And my hope grew.  If this loss wasn't from God, if indeed it was actually carried to the cross with Jesus, buried, and resurrected, then this loss could be redeemed... somehow.  I don't fully understand my hope but I know it's a key the Lord has given me.  It's a promise to hold onto tightly when I'm afraid... when I start thinking, Well, if this could happen, surely many other bad things could happen, too.  There is something about the blood of Jesus poured out for healing, in the face of death, which I must hold onto.  In this truth, He will overcome... somehow.

After the ultrasound, after we saw there was no heartbeat and the baby had died, we waited for my body to miscarry "naturally."  When I miscarried, there was nothing natural about it.  The contractions came in waves under my belly, just like when Isaac was born.  I remembered, with Isaac, being empowered by those waves of pain that birthed life.  I grieved as the familiar contractions birthed only death.

And still I know this loss was not from God; surely He must bring a victory.

In this ending, I'm hoping forward into life.

By Maryann, dailyparable

:angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

Becoming Content With How God Created Us
May 15, 2013 01:10 am | Matt Appling




Matt Appling is a former child artist turned art teacher, pastor and writer.  His work is helping children and adults in creative and spiritual pursuits.

His first book, Life After Art, was released by Moody Publishers April 2013 and explores the intersection of life, faith, and becoming the people God made us to be.  Matt can be found every week at his blog.


***




Can I confess something?

I struggle with contentment. That one word is the probably the most elusive in my life. Everyone has something that constantly evades and escapes them in their life. Contentment is mine.

It isn't that I'm not thankful. No, this is a struggle that makes me wonder if I'm doing enough, if God is happy with me, if my life means something. It makes my brain click on in the middle of the night and says, "Wake up, Matt!  You're a failure!" No joke. My brain thinks 3 am is the best time to dissect all of my life decisions.

It isn't that I'm not content with my life or my family.

I struggle to be content with myself.

And the more I confess it, the more I discover that I'm not alone. I find good friends at church who are secretly afraid that they have wasted their lives. I find people at work or new acquaintances online who just don't think they're good enough.

In fact, I don't have to go any further than the art classroom where I teach to find all the discontentment in the world.

Let's see, who's coming in? Fifth graders. Perfect.

These fifth graders are so different than they were in first grade or kindergarten. Their cares and worries have multiplied. They no longer look at themselves through the lens of how God sees them, but through the lens of how their peers see them. Everything is image.

And for such big kids, they seem so helpless. Not like the five-year-olds.

The boys don't think they are talented enough. Some of them scribble around on the paper, deflecting attention from their perceived inadequacies by performing below their talents.

And the girls...the girls are much more verbal. They put themselves down so much, it breaks my heart to hear them. The girls at this age spend so much time putting themselves down, criticizing themselves. Their souls are hunched over, weighed down with self-doubt and every kind of anxiety imaginable.

And in a few short years, they will be adults like you and me, still struggling to be content with themselves, still lacking the confidence to go and act boldly in the world because they don't think they are good enough.

I ask them to stop working.

"Where does all of our talent come from?" I ask.

"God," they answer.

"If God made us, and gave us all of the talents that He wanted us to have..." I pause a little, "How much sense can it make to complain about how God made us, to tell God that He didn't do a good enough job?"

And suddenly, I realize that I'm preaching a little sermon that I desperately need to hear myself. Another one. Really, every little message and pep talk and sermon I'm giving the kids is something that I've forgotten how to live and am trying to re-learn, one baby step at a time. Along with these children, I'm trying to slowly realize that we have enough, we are enough. We are exactly what God wanted us to be. We just have to discover how God actually created us in the first place.

Reaching that discovery of how God created us is what Life After Art is all about. It's the journey I'm taking, and I hope you'll take it with me. Let's recover the life and faith we were created to live, by rediscovering the children we used to be.

Did you miss out on your first chance to win a copy of Life After Art? No problem! For another chance to be entered, just comment on this post, anonymously if you prefer, by filling in the blank: "I wish I could be content with _____." We're giving away 5 copies total this week.

I hope you'll come visit me soon. You can find me on my blog or social media or watch the video preview and the first chapter of Life After Art right now! You can also purchase a copy of Life After Art here.



:angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder


Kingdom Come: On Learning to Enjoy
May 16, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines




When we spent what felt like 40 days and 40 nights in the hospital with our son last summer, many came to us and said, "God is so good; He's going to heal your son." And we struggled with that, thinking what if He doesn't heal him? Will he not still be good then? We hated that season for how sick our child was, but in another way, we had actually come to love the limbo – that liminal space between keeping and losing, rock and hard place – because it was where we experienced God.

Miscarriages and loss of dreams and loved ones have been painful places, too, where I have heard God whisper loudest His goodness and grace. It has been the pain that has ushered in the eagle wing and His ever presence. Jesus and I have seen some hard, dark days together, and I wouldn't trade the beauty of His friendship in for less pain.

But something strange has happened the past few months. Actually everything is strange since I've given in a little more to Him. One blaring super freaky thing has happened, and I have to say that I've wrestled with it.

It's embarrassing, but I think I feel happy. For Mother's Day I ate a hole-in-the-wall lunch with my husband and my four boys, and the carnitas en salsa verde was so good and my boys were so sweet that I cried. We sold a house and are moving to a place that I love. Things rarely just go well. The truth is that it's making me super itchy, and I'm having to work hard to keep guilt at bay.

It's as if I actually crave the darker days a little, as if friendship were made only for the ones struggling. But what I'm learning is that Jesus Christ is a multidimensional Savior Friend. Sometimes I walk with Him and chat His face off. Sometimes we're just together, and it's pretty quiet. Sometimes He says go and do something, and He leads me in it. And sometimes He is simply smiling at me, saying "Let's enjoy."

I know I haven't earned a smidge of it, so I know that it can all be taken away, and even then He would still be a good God. But part of becoming a friend of Jesus is trusting Him to brace me for pain. It's all an unveiling of my desire to control my own life. Maybe I think that if I'm doing pain well, then I'm winning. I wonder if it's just another way to feel that I can earn my position with Him.

These are not dark days. The birds have been singing, and even though Jesus' love does not add up to whether or not I like my house, He is asking me to let myself enjoy. He's asking me  to not fret about losing, to walk with Him in some actual glad things, and to trust Him in it all.

I'm a girl who usually has a conflicted, twisty poet heart, but this season has shown me that Jesus knows exactly how I'm raveled. There's a back and forth about our relationship, because it's real. He doesn't just love me. He likes me. I feel His hand on my shoulder. His is a kingdom of all kinds of good, and I do indeed pray it: Come Jesus, in all the ways. Your glorious Kingdom come.

post by Amber C Haines


:angel: :angel:


Go
May 16, 2013 01:10 am | shadowwonder




Too many times,
it is my first instinct:

Go.

Get somewhere else,
any place
other
than where I am
here and now.

For here is a kitchen
half-empty of food and
full of undone dishes,
this morning's crumbs on the counter
and countless dinners to be made.

Now there are rooms
inhabited by people
who can't always live up
to my impossible expectations.
Behind their faces echo hallways of
unanswered questions, walls of
uninvited pain. And
just around the corner lay
challenges I'm not sure
I can navigate
very well.

Perhaps it would be better
if I go.

This going isn't
walking away.
(No.)
It's a striving to
alter the moment.
It's the suspicion
that a new and improved now
would be
shinier,
easier,
better.

The going I want to do is
a rejection of
what is,
a fear that
this here,
this now,
is somehow
beyond redemption.

But I must remember this:

To go
is to miss the
blessing of
this one life.

To go
is to be
somewhere else
instead of
here and now,
where God invites me to
stay, and
abide.

————————————–

Questions for reflection:

*  Are there any parts of your life where you might be inclined to escape—even only mentally, emotionally, or spiritually?

*  Where might God be nudging you towards being present during the realities of your day?  How might you more steadily abide in Him during these moments?

*  Where might He be encouraging you to recognize His hand (and, perhaps, even His blessing) in the midst of questions, pain, or other difficulties?

By: shadowwonder


:angel: :angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

The Beautiful Life
May 17, 2013 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels




My life is always a little crazy, but it is beautiful just the same.

I have three kids and a dog. My husband and I both work at home all day. We volunteer full time as leaders of a church plant while working full time on the side to pay the bills. My husband loves the background noise of music and TV shows. Our dogs barks at everything that goes down the street and frequently run through the house from window to window chasing people as they walk. While my girls are now college graduates and living mostly on their own, they still come home every weekend to work with us in our family businesses. My son is just entering his teen years.  Our house is alive and loud with living.

My ears crave quiet, but my heart loves the sometimes chaotic evidence of God's goodness and blessing in our home.

I wouldn't trade the "noise" in my house for anything.

Remember when we talked about finding the right balance of "stuff"?

I am able to embrace a little happy clutter and noise because to me it means that the people I love are here, living a full and meaningful life and are serving God alongside me.

When I see stuff or things we love in our home, I see reminders of my family, their joy, their memories, their sweet presence in our life. Those things are beautiful to me! I love living surrounded by things I love.

I might appear to be a contradiction when I talk about the importance of living with "stuff" we love. I don't love junk, or excessive clutter, but I love the every day reminders of God's gifts and the evidence that life happens here. Those "things" are a part of the beautiful life God enables me to enjoy.

There is a balance between enjoying and living with what we love and having so much stuff that we can't care for or appreciate what we already have.

Too much stuff and we lose focus or become consumed by "things." We can begin to be overwhelmed or distracted by what we have rather than delighting in how God has provided.

My family is never really comfortable when our home is untidy, filled with clutter or actually dirty and in need of a good cleaning. Keeping up our home and eliminating excess and sharing what we have with others is part of our gratitude for what God has provided. While our housekeeping isn't perfect, we enjoy the daily ritual of cleaning and tidying up where we live. We feel better and more at peace when our home is somewhat in order.

As followers of Christ, our hope and treasure is in Heaven.

But God provides wonderful things in life for our enjoyment and we can find delight in living with His gifts and reminders of His own creative example.

I can imagine the joy on God's face when He created the beautiful peacock feathers, or the black and white graphic stripes of a zebra or the kaleidoscope of colors in the garden! He delighted in the variety and beauty of many things He created for our enjoyment!

Perhaps it seems contrary to my mostly quiet craving self, but I do love vibrant color and pattern and being surrounded by  things I love. Color and pattern, composition and art just thrills my creative side! A few years ago my sister and I had the privilege of visiting the Musee D'orsay in Paris. I was in TEARS looking at the beauty of a Monet painting in that famous museum.

God is the author of creativity and I'm grateful for His gifts.

If it sounds like my life is filled with beauty, it is. But that is mostly because of how I choose to see it, not because my home or life is perfect or without mess or trials. We've had stress and losses and hurts and sickness and long periods of waiting on God's timing. But God is still good and worthy of praise, even when difficult things happen.

I remember a season when I was suffering from an anxiety disorder brought on by an extremely stressful situation. One of the lessons I learned through that dark season was that it was important to stop and smell the roses, to remember and appreciate the beautiful things God put in our life for our enjoyment, no matter what stinky things are going on around us! And even now when I can't smell the roses I pause to inhale deeply when I brew my morning coffee. Even the smell of good coffee is clear evidence of God's goodness, isn't it?

I want to embrace a beautiful life, whatever that might look like in this season of life, as a gift from God.

Amidst the trials or struggles we have faced or will undoubtedly face down the road, it is the beautiful things that should remind us that He is good, all the time.

And best of all, beautiful things we find around us now can be a glimpse of the even more beautiful life in store for us when we place our hope in Him.

1 Tim 6:17: Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.
:angel: :angel:


Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

I Stole A Television... And Other Lessons In Generosity.
May 18, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs




When I was 22 years old, I lived with a family of seven. A recent University of Georgia graduate, it was the summer between finishing my college experience and my first year of teaching elementary school.

I shared a bedroom with a baby girl and took the four older brothers to the pool as many days as possible. The parents were two of my best friends and their basement was overtaken by my homeless belongings, waiting for August to come around, when my new apartment was vacant and ready to be the place where I started being an adult.

During that summer, I found a Bible verse that seemed to say exactly what I was living.

Psalm 68:6

"God sets the lonely in families..."

I wasn't lonely in the "I need more friends in my life" kind of way. I tend to excel at masking any loneliness of that type by filling my life to the brim with events and people and things so that the common observer would assume I was BUSY BUSY BUSY AND HAPPY [whether true or not]. It's kinda my specialty. But no matter, if you are single and an adult [or possibly about to become one, as I felt that summer] there is a degree of alone-ness. And I have seen over and over in the last eleven years of this alone-ness that God has repeatedly set me in families. Generous families.

But this first one? The first family besides my nuclear family to make me one of their own? It is a generosity I will never forget and try to pay forward as much as I can.

When I moved out that August, this family of seven let me borrow their one and only television because I did not have one.

Can you imagine? Five children in your home and you let the college kid drive away with your only TV.

And for months, I kept that television, mainly just forgetting that I had it and should take it back. [Ahhh, the maturity and self-less thinking of my early 20s.]

I finally returned it, I'm embarrassed to tell you when...okay fine, it was Christmas.

Generosity, the real kind, gives until it is uncomfortable. That family was generous to the point of sacrifice – in basement space, in days, in household appliances, in loving me as one of their own.

And I have never been the same.

I've continued to be overly exposed to generosity. And I think I must sit around it every Sunday. During the offering, my pastor always thanks the congregation for "giving to the point that it hurts" and I scan the crowd trying to figure out who is actually doing that. Because they are there. It's just not me.

Yet.

I want to learn to give like that because I have seen, firsthand, how it changes a person. To be the recipient of undeserved generosity blooms something in your soul that cannot be wilted. And while you may sacrifice when you sow generosity, you will reap as well.

Proverbs 11:25

"A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed."

. . . . .

Who do you know that lives generously?

:angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

I Sat on a Bench, So Now What?
May 20, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


The benches are rusting.

It's been three years since  we put the benches in the grassy area of our cul-de-sac. Before we had them, I would watch my neighbors chat for a few minutes at their mailboxes, but never for long. They have lived here over 40 years and simply didn't have the energy to stand.



But after we bought those benches, the ladies in the cul-de-sac began to linger. I watched as they would meet at the benches and sit for hours. Sometimes I would sit with them. As they talked about their grown children, we watched as mine rode their bikes in circles around us.

They've been neighbors for decades and have always had things to talk about. But now, they had a bench to sit on together. Now I could join them, listen and ask questions – what they remember about the war, what they like to read, the weather.

It isn't that they didn't want to be together, but before it wasn't so easy. Now, they had a bench to sit on. It didn't give them something to talk about; it gave them a place to do it.

Last month, over 6,000 of you gathered in homes, coffee shops, churches and parks to celebrate in real life friendship – both new ones and old. In the keynote many of you watched Friday night before the worldwide meet-up day, I shared this story of the benches we put in our cul-de-sac.

Hostesses around the world opened their homes or made a little space in their day to invite those of you who live nearby to meet in real life. In other words, they made a bench for you.

People want to talk about things. They want to relate and live in community and converse and be together. Sometimes they just need a bench. They need a place to get the conversation started, a platform that allows them to linger and find one another.

But then what?

It's been a month since (in)RL and I hope some of you have stayed in touch with people you met at your various meetups. But there's a good chance many of you didn't. There's a good chance some of you went and simply didn't connect with the women who showed up.

There's also a good chance many of you didn't go at all because you are emotionally allergic to small talk and large groups of women.

Gathering for (in)RL is one kind of bench. But it certainly isn't the only kind.

I wrote a post on my blog, Chatting at the Sky, about why I hope you'll subscribe to my blog. My intention was not to get a lot of subscribers for numbers sake. My intention was to invite readers to subscribe because I see my blog as a bench.

I write because it's my way of seeing and sharing the world and I hope people will see something hopeful in the words, something that perhaps calls courage out from places within that have been forgotten.

My blog is a bench I hope you want to sit on.

We hope the same thing for this space here at (in)courage.

But not everyone will see it that way.

The day I wrote that post, I received a few emails from kind readers who honestly admitted they didn't feel like part of my community at all. I have too many readers (I can't possibly know them all), too many comments (I can't possibly respond to them all), and though they appreciated my writing, they simply see things from a realistic perspective.

They were right in one sense. And if I wrote a blog to become personal friends with everyone who reads, well then you might say I'm a miserable failure at building a bench.

The reality is, I can't personally connect with everyone who reads. I write and try to communicate honestly, I try to make these online spaces a comfortable place for people to come and connect in the small ways a blog will allow.

But my expectation of the benches I am building through writing books and a blog is not to make thousands of personal friends. Writing online can become this kind of community for some, but it isn't always.

That doesn't mean a blog or an (in)RL meeting aren't still benches. It simply means those can't be our only benches.

It's one thing to gather around a bench someone else is building – a blog or an in(RL) meeting or a small group hosted by someone at your church. I don't want to deny the courage it takes to attend these things.

Still, sitting on a bench may not be the only thing we need.

Because often times once you get there, you realize it isn't what you hoped it would be.

You realize it's harder to connect than you thought it might be.

You realize that people can be seriously hurtful.

Sometimes the benches get rusty.

This is the hard part. This is looking deep within ourselves and asking hard questions. We have to admit what we need and what we most long for. We have to grieve our disappointments and be honest about how others aren't meeting our expectations.

And we also may need to consider something else.

Instead of asking what you need, begin to consider what you have to offer.

Is that a scary question?

Do you believe you have something to offer?

Do you see a need for a different kind of bench in your own life?

Are you waiting for someone else to build it?

What if they're waiting for you?


:angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

You Are The Brave Ones
May 21, 2013 01:20 am | Crystal Stine




Dear friends who build benches -

You are the brave ones, the ones who see a need and slide over to make room for your sister. You bring cupcakes and coffee and invite others in with a warm smile. You choose not to wait to be invited before building community. You look out your window and feel God nudging you to be the one – the one who invites, encourages, welcomes, because the woman down the street? On Twitter? Faithfully leaving comments on your blog? You've been where she is and you want to offer her a safe place to sit down, take a deep breath, and feel free to be herself.

The (in)courager leaders? They are bench builders. They welcome strangers from around the world into small group community. They plan, check in, pray over, cheer with, and love on. They are the women who hold open the doors and make room for one more. They stand aside and watch in awe as God shows up and does a good work.

Here are some of their own words, from our last session:

This group was amazing in so many ways. During this past session we had many tragedies that affected our group. As a result we bonded stronger than ever as prayer warriors, bombarding Heaven in behalf of our sister(s) who were struggling. We shared concerns and praises. We are a very strong group! Thank you, Lord!
It's been so beautiful to come together with women struggling with infertility (and those who have experienced it in the past) and pray, share our hearts, have a safe place among women. THANK YOU for opening this group–community can be hard for any woman, but infertile women can feel especially lost and isolated. Thank you for creating a space for us to come together.
I love this. So much. It has helped me be brave enough to connect deeply with women in real life. To share my own hauntings and be a safe place for others struggling to survive each day as a mum.
I am so thankful God encouraged me to go another round and stick with this community thing. He blessed me and taught me so much this time around. This group has been amazing and such a needed thing for pastor's wives. It has truly been a place of exhortation and praise and I am so so thankful for that. God has shown up!
And to you, the bench-seekers? You are the brave ones. The ones who have not given up on community. You who hold onto the hope that there is a place for you, somewhere you can be yourself – exactly as God created you. You trust that God will answer your prayer for women who know what it's like to walk THIS road – your road – and you search for them. You connect with a new friend on Twitter, follow a few Facebook pages, and leave blog comments faithfully, hoping to connect with like-minded sisters.

These are comments from some women – just like you – who found their bench with (in)couragers:

It's a great community where I can share with people who get where I am coming from. We are aligned in experience AND faith, which makes it a lot easier to get great advice, and prayer!
The women in this group supported each other through prayer and art and conversation. I feel as though I have made RL friends even though I haven't met any of them (except for one) in person... I like the fact that each group is welcoming and nurturing–ready with a prayer and a pat on the back or a virtual hand held.
As a somewhat new blogger/writer, the group encouraged me to have more confidence in myself as a writer. They also shared so much information on improving the skill. I felt so blessed to be a part of the group...many new friendships were made.
I felt included! I felt like the other ladies knew exactly what I was going through, my struggles, my joys, in a way that others just can't. It feels difficult to meet and make time to get to know other special needs moms, but to find a whole group of them, and also to share the same faith... It gave me so much peace to know that I am not alone, although physically I am not with them, I felt their strength and courage and it made me feel stronger and more courageous.
This summer? Whether you're a bench builder, bench seeker, or just in need of a fun and encouraging place to connect with some friends, you're invited to join us at the (in)courager Facebook page. We'll be joining with the Bloom book club, kicking back, making new friends, and getting ready for our fall small group session. You can find more details on the Find Friends page!

We can't wait to see you – we have a spot saved just for you.

:angel: :angel:

When You Are Done With Living Small, Living Safe
May 21, 2013 01:10 am | Tonya Robinson




When I was nineteen years old I wanted to go to India on a missions trip.

I had been saved at eighteen in a radical, darkness to light kind of conversion. A Saul-on-the-road-to-Damascus kind of conversion. And what I wanted, more than anything, was just to live for Christ. I didn't care how or what, I just wanted more of Him. But when I went to my parents to tell them that I was going to go to India, they got worried. That's what parents do, right?  All they could think of was that their blonde, blue-eyed daughter was going to be kidnapped and sold into slavery. And I let them talk me out of it. There would be plenty of time for that later, they said. When you're older. When it's safer. Later.

That year I met my husband and we married young. We started having children and before I knew it I was a mother who had been pregnant or nursing a baby for twelve years straight. There were always reasons not to go. Who would take care of my kids? What if something happened to me? What if I died, then what about these six little ones, living without a mother? I listened to the lie of safe.

The lie that says living safe is the only way to life. The lie that says living small, protecting, is the way to longevity. But these last sixteen years, I've learned something.

There are worse things than dying for Christ.

Chiefly, living without Him.

Because when you're living for anything other than fully Christ, you're dying. But the fullest life is found only in living fully for Christ. Living for your children, your spouse, your job, it only harvests death. Bits of yourself withering away day by day until there is nothing left.

And when you live small, live safe, live to protect yourself and others, you can't simultaneously live for Christ. It is impossible.

You can't take hold of all of Him without letting go of what you're holding on to.

You can't live for Christ without a willingness to die.

Even dying to the expectations of others.

But dying for Christ harvests only greater life.

I have lived my life for others but not in God's way.

I've lived to please people instead of living to please God.

And that Saul who turned Paul, he said it too, "Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ." Galatians 1:10

I haven't been a faithful servant. I've too often chosen the way of pleasing man over God. I've too often listened to the lie of safe, instead of living reckless for Christ. But this isn't the life I want.

I've made excuses for too long.

After my friend's husband died suddenly and tragically on a mission trip to Costa Rica, leaving behind his wife and four young children, I wondered, where in this whole wide world is safe? Then one month later I almost died in childbirth with my sixth child. And I began to understand, that there is only one safe place in this wild world, and that is in the arms of Jesus. We aren't guaranteed safety while we walk this earth but when we walk with Jesus, he holds us, and promises to bring us safely home to Him. And this one life that I have been given, I want to live it full of Christ.

I'm done.

I'm done with safe. I'm done with small.

I'm done with living for less than just Jesus.

What if I loaded up that big red, 12 passenger van full of kids and we just followed Jesus where ever he leads. Safe or not. What if we just lived for Christ, no matter the cost?

What if I listened to the still small voice beckoning into the deep waters and didn't stop to wonder if I can swim well enough?

What if I went?

This week I turned in my missions application to go to Costa Rica. And all I hear echoing in my head is this refrain from a Switchfoot song, "Why would I wait till I die to come alive? I'm ready now. I'm not waiting for the afterlife."

I'm ready now, I'm not waiting for the afterlife.

How about you? Are you ready to really live for Christ? What deep water is He calling you into?

by Tonya Robinson,  Moments in Grace



:angel: :angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder

It's OK to Not Be OK
May 22, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne




Hey friend? Come sit next to me here on my old thrifted couch. I have a warm, soothing cup with your name on it and I want to tell you a few things.

Are you looking at that overflowing to do list and feeling bad about yourself?

Are you thinking of the week ahead and wondering how you will handle all of it?

Are you watching the news with your heart breaking and wondering how to take it all in, when your own daily life is so overwhelming already?

Here's the thing: It's ok to not be ok.

Right now?

Where you are at is ok.



It might not feel like it, and it might not look like it to the rest of the world, but I can tell you confidently that you are ok. And not because you have anything pulled together.

Let me tell you why.

Because Jesus says you are worthy.

Even when you don't accomplish a single thing (yet again) today, you are still worthy. Even when you just survived today. Even when you've forgotten how to thrive. You are still worthy.

He is not ashamed to be called your God. He wants your healing and your redemption and for your broken to be whole – and he will take you there. On your own journey. He is so faithful.

You know how I know?

You see, I get you, because you are me sometimes. And I can look back at the darkness behind me and realize it wasn't as dark as I had once thought. It had bright spots shining in when I wasn't looking. Maybe when I was looking down instead of up.

And those lights are what drew me to the next step. And the next. And the next. One foot at a time, just doing the next thing.

A month from now, you won't be where you are today. Because all things are in either growth or decline, for the glory of the Lord, you won't be where you are right now. Nothing is static. Because you are worthy, and ok, you can choose tomorrow what one thing you will accomplish. Then next week maybe you'll find two things. Even if those two things are washing a load of laundry and then putting it away.

When the expectations of the world are beating at the door and all you can do is pretend you aren't home, just know that even if you don't feel ok, you are ok. And tomorrow you can walk towards that door. And the day after that you can unlock it. And the day after that maybe you'll open it.

But right now, you don't have to be productive. You don't have to be on time. You don't have to be organized or pulled together or stylish or smart or lovely at all. You can just be you and you can just love Jesus.

That is enough for today.
:angel:


Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

Judy Harder


Start With a "Yes" to the Little Things
May 23, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt




After spending a few days at Disney, I can't help but sing "Dreams really do come true." With princesses twirling and characters dancing, evil is destroyed at every turn.

Little boys and girls can't help but be mesmerized by Mickey's encouragement that if we only just believe, dreams can become a reality.

Yet when I take away the sprinkle of Cinderella's fairy dust, what does that really mean for me?

How can I weave God's calling through the fabric of my every day life without feeling overwhelmed?

The discussions on "Dreaming Big Dreams" have permeated many posts and discussions lately, and as a "Reach for the Stars" kind of girl myself, there's nothing I appreciate more than surrounding myself with others who dream big dreams, yet often, I'm conflicted with my thoughts on the topic.

For me, whenever I wear my Dream God Sized Dreams bracelet it's my reminder to embrace the Little Things.



Just recently, I re-read one of my very first Balancing Beauty and Bedlam posts entitled The Little Things. It's been a theme on my blog for years, and the post began,

"For those who read my blog, you know that one of my passions is CHOOSING JOY.
I love to celebrate the simple things, and stimulate the senses. It is by taking your everyday rituals, and turning them into something meaningful, so that your house becomes a true haven – a sanctuary.
It's about turning the ordinary into the extraordinary, and that extraordinary is often so simple.
I often get asked, "What is your dream?"
I honestly reply, "I am living it."

I penned that nearly five years ago. Those are my roots. That's where I need to return.

Contentment in the midst of simplicity.

Our God Sized dreams vary based on our own personal journey and life stage, and last month on (in)courage, I shared my imaginary conversation. The one where I felt as if I couldn't keep up amidst this amazing group of women.

The bottom line? I don't have too. My journey is very different. I don't share the same dreams, yet that doesn't make one more important than the next.

Again, I glance at my bracelet, and I'm reminded that my big, crazy, God size realized Dream began by saying "Yes" to the little things which ARE the Big things, and quite often, the most important things.



How did I start to realize my dreams and choose joy on a day to day basis?

I began by saying YES to the little things and not worrying about bigger things.

I said "Yes" to:

Picking blueberries in the pouring rain
Choosing Spontaneous Hospitality (for the non-perfectionist) again and again
Being a Crazy "Yes" Mom whenever I got the chance, since so often I had to say "no."
Jumping in a mud puddle, even when I didn't want more laundry to do
Eating frozen chocolate chip cookies dough
Sharing a "backwards night" in which I served ice cream as our main course and encouraged the family to "save" room for our special treat: peas for dessert
Eating dinner under the table with candles and china
Buying a Starbucks treat for a stranger in line, even when I wouldn't buy that treat for myself
As I started saying "Yes" to spontaneous acts of intentional living, my soul was freed up to tip toe into other areas.

Organizing Kitchen Sisters Clubs (meal swapping groups)
Sharing Money Saving Ideas
Serving as a Director for women on their home school journey
Can you see how this slowly evolved?

I didn't make a chart. I didn't create a "to do" list. I didn't have some big "life goals" sheet (shh, I know that goes against all leadership principles).

I allowed my day to day "yeses" to percolate passions that I didn't even know were imprinted on my heart 20 years ago.

The crazy thing?

From those simple, country girl passions, the desire to become more creative, purposeful and frugal, came a God Sized Dream realized.



It all started with saying "Yes" to the little things.

My co-host and I desired an affordable weekend of encouragement and inspiration for our readers; a place to bring the hands-on topics of our blogs to real life.

I packed up my family room furniture (literally), set it up on the stage and welcomed women from all walks of life to become more intentional with the day to day.

We shared life.

We shared ideas on meal planning, furniture painting, home decor, family traditions, frugal fashion, photography, Trash to Treasure and more.

Honestly, I chuckle because it's one of my best kept secrets, and I really don't talk about it much. I guess because this Becoming Conference feels as if I'm just welcoming you all into my home for the weekend, and when you do that, you don't talk on and on about what an inspiring weekend it is.

You just live life together, embracing both the beauty and bedlam of every day life.

My encouragement to you is to just start.

Tip toe forward and say "Yes" to those little things. My whole Becoming weekend began as a spontaneous idea of mine built on that exact premise.

The theme of "It's the little things that are the big things" will be sprinkled throughout the Blue Ridge Mountains during the weekend of August 9 -10, 2013

I invited others along for the journey and they said "Yes."

Won't you join me too? (Literally and figuratively) :)



What's "Yeses" can you declare today?
Our God Sized Dreams begin by tip toeing towards just one new "Yes."

(And I highly recommend dancing spontaneously in the rain.)

Shared by: Jen Schmidt, Balancer of Beauty and Bedlam, maker of 10 Minute Dinners and co-host of the Becoming Conference.





:angel: :angel:

The One Thing To Do When You Are Wrecked
May 23, 2013 01:10 am | Julie Sunne


I didn't want to write this post. There were many sunnier topics I had considered sharing. But this is the one I felt needed to be written because...

...I'm wrecked—torn up inside. And I'm struggling with what to do about it. Maybe you are, too.

You see, our third-world brothers and sisters are scavenging for the last vestiges of anything edible, and I'm living in the lap of luxury. (Yes, middle class America is the lap of luxury.) While they wonder where their next meal will come from, I'm searching for the next best deal.

And I'm finally letting it bug me!

Avoidance Isn't the Answer
I've been stung by the plight of others less fortunate before. But I've never allowed it to take hold of me like now.

In the past, I've always managed to "manage" my compassion. I'd give a little something and then shake it off—to prevent it from digging deep into my heart and hanging on. But for the past year I've been largely unsuccessful.

I'm driven to read desperate accounts of life in Haiti, like this one from Ann Voskamp, or stirring narratives of the difficult conditions in Peru by Angie Smith, and I'm broken all over again.

As much as I'd like to stay away from such uncomfortable topics, I can't. Something draws me to consider those who live a world apart, those I will likely never meet—and beckons me to be undone.

But...

...what and how?
What do we do with starving orphans, whole communities of diseased and dying families, and the discarded disabled?

How are we to respond to true desperation when we have refrigerators and freezers filled to the brim, cupboards overflowing with produce, and closets bursting with clothes?

Do we join them on the streets? Do we sell all we have and live like paupers?

Should we feel guilty for living in the United States?

Do we offer a token gesture, a pat on the head, to make us feel better? Or do we turn a blind eye and pretend they don't exist?

Move
The questions have whirled in my mind. And I've finally settled on the only answer I can right now.

I must move. We all must move.

We must take a step toward the needy.

Each of us must embrace being undone and take action. One step at a time.

The body of believers cannot "do" nothing when some of God's children are suffering. As tempting as it may be, we cannot avoid the harsh reality of poverty and persecution because it makes us uncomfortable. We cannot ignore it or forget about it because it is inconvenient. We cannot write off the sadness and suffering as someone else's concern.

We all must take a first step.

My first one step is this post. To acknowledge the plight of the poor and persecuted. To accept the call to do something.

And I'll be praying for the next step ... and the one after that. Because each step needs to be followed by another—a series of small steps to make a big difference.

Different One Steps
I'm certain we're all called to move for the poor, to let ourselves be undone. Because God didn't plop some of us in developed countries merely to live a life of relative ease. He placed us here to demonstrate His heart of compassion, to be His hands and feet.

But I'm equally certain, we aren't all called to make the same step.

So maybe our job—mine and yours—is to figure out what that move looks like in each of our lives.

This first step may be the hardest.

But being wrecked is not about ease; it is about the broken serving the broken.

Ultimately, being wrecked is about love.

"But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?" 1 John 3:17

Q4U: What might your first/next one step be to serve those in need?

Yours in grace,

Julie Sunne

*Author and speaker Jeff Goins wrote a challenging and inspiring book entitled "Wrecked: When a Broken World Slams into Your Comfortable Life." Check it out. It will make you think deep and reach far.



:angel: :angel:
Today, I want to make a difference.
Here I am Lord, use me!

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