(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

When She Looks Like Jesus
Oct 19, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines



Once she loved me. She had held my face and known me like a mother knows a child: the smirk, the thumb smearing dirt from the face, leaning her forehead into mine. She was with me. She put her hand on my back and prayed for me deep. She made a home for me, served hot bread and good wine, but it's been a long time.

Our baby has been sick again, and I've travelled. I've fallen in love with Jesus' people from all over. My brothers and sisters here have had to divide and conquer. I don't have a group here anymore. On Sunday mornings, I've gone back to her, and when she opened the door, she didn't know my name, and I had a hard time recognizing her face.

I haven't known how to find my way back home.

—

Waking in the morning, waiting for the coffee, I'm not sure the exact thing that makes me so angry. It feels chronic, like green eyes and Scottish blood. My heart beats like stomping feet. I pour the drink and go to the quiet room for my routine time alone, my quiet time. I've said that I'm not afraid anymore. I threw fear off like an ugly coat. I'm afraid my fear turned to anger. I peal it back – down to the anger. Down to the fear beneath. The fear that always, every single time, opposes love.

—

This pilgrim thing is not my favorite part.

I cling to the ones who share my strange taste in music. I cling to those of you who write in the same vein. I touch the spines of my favorite books like pictures of old friends. Once a couple asked why I don't ever just write what I mean. I cling to you okay with the I-don't-knows. I keep kilter with the ones who are a little off a rocker, more comfortable on porches with ashtrays and melting ice cubes.

I don't belong here. I'm the girl from the woods with a Bible in her hand, and I don't always understand why I don't much feel at home.

I walk with Jesus, and the more I do, the more homesick I am. Are you a wanderer, too?

—

I have friends who have never understood the struggle with love for church. I'm not sure people understand that I don't mean THE church. The picture I have of the spotless bride of Christ (she is me), and then that after party? Oh I am so good with that. I love her now and forever. It's just the going to church thing, like it's a place on a mountain where God hovers like a cloud.

Church is not what happens on Sunday mornings, is it? Is it?

Maybe it is. Maybe that's a big part of it. Maybe I wanted it to be the whole. Maybe I wanted Sunday mornings to mean nothing at all.

—

If a hammered dulcimer plays, you can guarantee that my husband and I are about three seconds from a good lip quiver, because hammered dulcimers sound like Rich Mullins, and his music points home. At church, Josh had the dulcimer, and Seth had guitar, and then Shelly put her hands in the air exactly how I know we'll all be doing when we see Jesus face to face. We were throne-room singing. That's usually why I go.

When I first sat down, I looked around and saw in the sea of people only two that I know. But next to me were two of the only people of color in the room. At the awkward meet-and-greet part, I couldn't place her accent, but she's not from anywhere close to here. I wondered how far away from home she felt, her Spirit-Filled Bible in her lap. I felt close to her.

On my other side came to sit one of our elders, and he is one of those tender-tough ones, looks like he could beat your face in or kiss it – either one. When we sang our Rich Mullins, he might have been deaf for the tones, but he sang like he had written every word. I fell in love with him there, a man who is tender-tough. When I turned to him at the awkward meet-and-greet, he said my name and asked of my sons.

—

I was angry because church hasn't felt like home in a long time. I'm starting to think it was never meant to feel like home, not any more than Rich's music and my Mama's banana pudding. But at church, when I got Titus early from nursery, and I asked the people in the back to pray, he limped his unfed body into mine like he would fall asleep. They gathered around us, and one whispered over us in praise. One said Jesus is Healer; that is His name. One said Seth and I were brought together to bring forth a godly generation. One prayed against the fear and brought the Bible verses out. They put their hands on my back, called me Moses.

Once in a while you find yourself in the arms of your broken church, and she looks exactly like THE church, and THE church looks like Jesus. It's worth pressing on, going to commune with the homesick ones, going to find a hand to hold, a bag to carry, wine to taste.

I am a pilgrim, and I get so homesick.

Little church, you don't have to know my name to be beautiful. I just want to see Jesus. Let me be like the child to you.

Suffer me not.

[Judy Harder]

On being impatient for healing
Oct 21, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne Segerman



I've been blessed in the area of broken bones and large puncture wounds. What I mean is, I haven't broken anything but my pinky toe, and I've never required stitches. I sprained my ankle once, I've had shin splints and I gave birth five times. So, I know what it feels like to wait on your body to heal, and not be able to speed anything up.

In fact, I've heard that a sprained ankle can take longer than a broken ankle to heal, depending on the injury, so it makes sense why I have such a distinct memory of being about 13 or so and feeling like I would never walk again. The healing took so very long, I often thought perhaps it wasn't healing at all. Any small improvement that I made disappeared inside that worry-lens that I looked through. I couldn't see any good that had happened because I completely focused on what I still couldn't do.

I often look at how God made our physical bodies and ponder the metaphor that we humans are. We are in His image, we are a reflection of the One who created us, as well as a reflection of Creation itself. Every wild and crazy physiological thing I learn about the human body and how each part functions astounds me because I know there is some beautiful way that the natural is symbolic of the supernatural.

So it is with waiting on a physical injury to heal. The way we heal slowly, from the inside out. The deeper the gash in my arm, the longer until I will no longer feel pain. Even longer until I will no longer notice the scar. Our skin layers heal inside first, the outside being the very last thing to heal. Isn't that exactly how our soul heals, too?

Even now, I am in a season of healing long-standing brokenness in my life and in my heart. Just like I remember feeling that ankle sprain take forever, and often seem like it wasn't healing at all, I keep stepping back into impatience. I want to feel all better now, God, why is it so slow?

I have that lens on, the one that makes me see everything in a scarcity way. The one that makes me view life as everything I do not have. I do not have a history of healing. I have a history of pain. Healing happens eventually, but so slow you can't even tell. But really, none of that is true at all. Those are the lies of that incorrect lens.

Our healing is sometimes like the turning of the earth. We always know it's happening – night comes, the sunrise comes again. God is knitting together each layer of healing, slowly, slower even than I would like. But I can look back and see how many days and nights have passed already. I'm always bending towards healing.

If you find yourself in a season of healing, but not quite sure what is taking so long — this is for you. I feel like it could be talked about a little bit more – that the healing sometimes takes a while. Sometimes God swoops in and instantly, miraculously fixes a situation. Sometimes God quietly and miraculously and eventually fixes a situation. None is less a miracle. None is accidental.

I can wait on you, Lord. Give me your lens, that I might be steadfast in healing. Give me the freedom to exist wholly in this place, with the wound healed a little, but not all the way. Let me rejoice in each layer of healing. Let me rejoice.

***

By Arianne Segerman, of Mabel + Riv

[Judy Harder]

Why You Should Smile Right Now...
Oct 22, 2013 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp


When a nurse calls early and says she has the results of the chest x-ray, I'm standing in the kitchen.

A kitchen of muffin tins and cracked eggs and two frying pans and the bacon already gone.

She puts me on hold to get the file.

I scratch away at the glass splattered stovetop with a razor, as if there's this way — this way to cut things right down to the bone.






The nurse gets back on the phone and talks about those x-rays I had over the weekend and I'm wondering why in the world getting breakfast for three starving teenagers, two bottomless boys and a curly-haired tomboy, and a hard-working Dutch farmer, leaves one kitchen looking like something eggy and oiled exploded volcanic?

This stovetop is going to need more than a razor.

"But your doctor looked at them this morning and it look's like, from your chest x-rays..."

Who let porridge crust like a fossil formation to the side of the counter? And why pile plates in the sink like these sticky skeletal remains?

"It looks like you have pneumonia."

And I stop... look up and out the window. Look out across the weedy tomatoes. Out to the corn leaves all chaffing in the wind.

If the joy of the Lord is my strength — if the joy of the Lord is my strength, the oxygen that keeps me standing —

why do I deprive myself of joy's oxygen?

"Why deprive myself of joy's oxygen?

The swiftness and starkness of the answer startle.

Because you believe in the power of the pit.

Really?

Do I really smother my own joy because I believe that anger achieves more than love?

That Satan's way is more powerful, more practical, more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus' way? Why else get angry?

Is it because I think complaining, exasperation, resentment will pound me up into the full life I really want?

When I choose — and it is a choice — to crush joy with bitterness, am I not purposefully choosing to take the way of the Prince of Darkness?

Choosing the angry way of Lucifer because I think it is more effective — more expedient— than giving thanks? than living joy?"

~ One Thousand Gifts

My chest hurts.

Braced against the counter, I hack-cough like I'm hoping something in me might break — like the hardest places.

"So your doctor would like if ..." I cradle the phone, stack the dirty bowls so I can fill the sink with hot water.

Cynicism isn't strength and ranting doesn't rejuvenate and frustration can never accomplish what Faith can.

Does my life testify to my belief in the power of complaint — or the power of Christ?

"The doctor would like if he could get this turned around for good this time...."

And I'm nodding.... it's so time to be well.

If neither height nor depth nor death nor anything in heaven or earth can separate me from the love of God — surely neither can messy bedrooms or dirty sinks or loud kids or ugly days separate me from the joy of the Lord.

Really — if nothing can separate me from the Love of the Lord — can anything separate me from the Joy of the Lord?  Breathe.

"So the doctor's set up a treatment plan for you...."

And the cough gives way to this happy relief.... I can feel it — A smile is where the first strong surrender to His will and His joy begins.

Why let anything steal your joy?

If the Joy of the Lord is my strength, then why let anything steal my strength?

The Joy of the Lord is our strength — and anger leaves everyone weak.

The corn out the window — the chaffing of the leaves, it could be strings of something like a song. And the clattering of plates, it could be a chorus, the water running — and why not laugh and why not breathe? Why let the naysayers say there's not enough reasons to enjoy right now?

I wash dishes. Scrape off the stove. Go fill a prescription. Change the laundry. Read aloud to the kids. Hack-Cough. Heave. Straighten. Step over the mess. Breathe. Smile.

Smile.

Let something steal your joy — and you let something steal your strength.

And it comes — the lungs healing, the oxygen filling.

-with love for you by Ann Voskamp



Q4U: What's stealing your joy right now? Distractions? Fear? Busyness? Stress? Worry? Anger? Is it worth it? What if you tried the Smile Project: Smiling every time you felt something stealing your joy? What's keeping you from joy right now in your life? How could that change?

Will you join in the conversation here? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)



Cliques and Community
Oct 22, 2013 01:10 am | Tracee Persiko



Recently I sat at a Starbucks watching a group of high school girls hang out. I listened as they talked about their day, and thought, "You know... Nothing has really changed about the conversations and topics of high school."

We are a culture that operates out of created groups. We learn how to belong through gravitating toward like-minded people. Every high school has the same social groups now as they did 15 years ago when I was there.

We called our like-minded group of friends our community, but in reality they were cliques. There is a distinct difference. Cliques do not allow room for community.

I watched these girls and laughed because my friends now are so different. My closest friends are made up of a mismatched group of gifts, personalities, fears, looks, and passions. One of my closest friends and I joke all the time that we would not have been friends in high school. Our "reputations" and judgments would not have let that happen.

Community ceases to be community when it becomes a clique.

There is no room for community in a clique. Cliques are closed to anyone new joining in. Cliques enforce a hierarchy of judgment someone needs to pass in order to be allowed in. You essentially have to "try out" to be a part of a clique.

It makes me sad when I see cliques in the Church. Clique mentality has no room in the community of the Church body. We are all made in His image. We are all invited to walk a life journey with the same God.

Look at the disciples.

Some would say that the twelve disciples were a clique. I would say that they were the first real community. Look at the mixed match-up of those guys! The community of disciples consisted of different personalities, passions, interests, looks, temperaments, gifts, strong wills, extroverts, introverts, popular, and the loathed. There was no reason these guys should've been doing life together! They didn't make sense to be together as a group.

But isn't this true community?

Community is made up of all of those who are trying to do life well, and follow after the same invitation to do life with Him.

Community takes a chance on people. Community sees and invites the heart of another to be known and loved.

What are your thoughts on community?

What makes community for you?

[Judy Harder]

Why Don't They Just "Get" Me?
Oct 29, 2013 01:10 am | Claire Necessary



Relationships of ALL types grow our faith. I was recently reminded of this as I sat listening to a diverse group of women share their hearts in my church's community group. God continues to show me the power of community, particularly the kind that happens without my manipulation and control. I was shown that I serve a God who is far bigger than my tiny homogenous world I try to construct.

Why do I put my energies into creating an inner circle of "perfect" friends so that I can live in a Christian version of a TV show where everyone effortlessly shares all of life's intimate moments from the sacred to the hilarious? I can easily convince myself that the Gospel has something to do with being surrounded by people who are exactly like me. I don't think we can escape living in a broken world, but I want to wade through this life with people who have the same budget as me, have kids the same age, and have the same sense of humor and style. They must also duplicate the exact same beliefs as me. Their theology, language, and Christian sub-culture must mimic mine. I simply want it to be easy.

It is a fact that God made us for community. We all desire to be accepted and we all have needs that are met through relationships in our lives.

But there is this blurry line that is hard to see when we cross it. There's this place we can end up where we have shut out people that God places in our paths for specific reasons, whether to be an influence or to grow us. When you surround yourself with people who are just like you, you are validated, praised, and admired just the way you want to be. But I am seeing that God leads people into our lives for His purpose, not our own.

Recently, new relationships in my life are with people who are not just like me. They have different backgrounds, beliefs, ways of life, and priorities, and many are in a different season of life. I find myself struggling to relate. I want them to "get" me without putting in effort. I want to halfway explain something and then say "y'all know what I mean" and have them automatically and thoroughly understand the depths of my soul. This limits spiritual, emotional, and mental growth.

Isn't it better to allow ourselves to be stretched and to allow God to show us things through others who have seen life through a totally different lens? Knowing where people are entails us actually taking the time to get to know them, and then caring enough not to force them to see things our way. When I do this, I am changed.

In this small group of women, I hear someone praying in a foreign language and am reminded that God hears the prayers of all his children around the globe. I witness the excitement of new believers, and, thankfully, it rubs off on me.

Above all else, we are to love one another. I am trying to follow this simple command and not whine when no one in my life "gets" me. Whether or not it conveniently fits into the screenplay I've naïvely written for my life, that is not really the point of it all. I am called to love my neighbor, no matter who they are. The miracle is that I end up on the receiving end as well, oftentimes receiving more than I give.

[Judy Harder]

Simply Beautiful :: Guest Post by RoseAnne Coleman
Nov 01, 2013 01:10 am | RoseAnne Coleman





As I read Emily P. Freeman's newest offering, A Million Little Ways, I was amazed that such a young woman (under a century old) could have such a wise soul.  I'll wager that Ms. Emily was surprised herself as God poured His light through her words like water flowing to the ocean. That is what our Father does through us.

Many restrict Art in their lives due to the fear that form will not match the Inspiration.
However, when the glass becomes more important than what fills it, that is takes the roller out of coaster—no stomach-stealing thrills, no brave hands untethered, no desire for another ride right now. Who would want to ride a coaster without the roller!

Inspiration is Pure Light; form, the rainbow prism shinings. Artistry comes in all kinds of packages. We just need to look for it and allow Art to beam through our pane, inspiring us first, then inspiring and encouraging others.

Although I recognize some of my gifts, organization is not one. However, this week I was hit with a double whammy—two out-of-state visitors arriving, my guest bedroom and library looking like a "dirty clothes/scraps of paper/last year's unused Christmas cards newly promoted" bomb exploded, filling each room knee-deep in—Aw, you get the picture.

However, two gifted friends came to my door, a rescue party of two. Suzanne and Donna arrived and created the most beautiful art amidst disaster zones. To my astonishment, they even were laughing, having the best time visiting while establishing order and peace in my home, one shovelful at a time.

Order from chaos–socks in drawers, books in library, office supplies on shelves where others of their kind had already been placed during a previous rescue party.

"How beautiful the hands that serve/The wine and the bread" to RoseAnne in her home"– (Paris, Twila. "How Beautiful," elyrics.net)

A Rescue Party of Two—the beautiful, artful hands of Christ to me.
I witnessed another example of two amazing people allowing God to show His living/breathing art through their lives as believers, as a couple, and as the parents of SIX children.

Bearing no offspring of my own, I didn't know what to expect from a supper table ringed with kids from 14 to two. I first noticed the artful way their mother, Sandy, handled the flow of bodies through her kitchen with the ease of an air traffic controller; all the while kindly and attentively asking questions about my life, while finishing supper prep for nine.

"We are having Mexican, since I knew you liked it," Sandy softly said with a little shoulder shrug shyness. I marveled at this homeschooling mother's ability to order her moments as I eyed the freshly baked cake and beautifully browned enchiladas on the stove, accompanied by beans and rice, corn and salad—along with children who were clothed, asking questions about my travels, filling cups, helping with the smallest diners.

After a sweet blessing from the littlest one and added on to by Luke, the dad, Sandy began to serve plates. I noticed the children's waiting to eat. Luke explained, "We decided to have everyone wait to eat until Sandy has served all and has her food, too. If we didn't, Sandy wouldn't even eat a bite before being asked for seconds."

Hungry kids waiting to eat? No whining about being starved, wanting Mom to just hurry up?!

The beauty of respecting their mom and wife by delaying their own satisfaction was dazzling.
Later, after clearing supper from the table and Sandy's making fresh whipped cream for dessert topping, we all dug into delicious, white peaked pumpkin cake.  Luke and Sandy talked to me about their deepest desires to love and serve Jesus well in how they raise their children, in how they live every moment. Even in the most beautiful cathedral with pooled stained glass light beams, I could not have been more inspired by the Body of Christ than that night with this family of eight who struggle every day for the means to support them all but are intentional in joy and godliness–in the midst a family of eight.

It is so clear Sandy and Luke want to find beauty, allow beauty, invite beauty even to the most meager of moments to see Jesus themselves, to show Jesus to their six children, to be Jesus to me–and now to you, Friend.

Beautiful Rescue Party of two.

Beautiful enchiladas.

Beautiful marriage.

Beautiful kids.

Simply beautiful.
RoseAnneColeman :: Let's be Facebook friends!

* * * * *

[Judy Harder]

Gifts of Gratitude: (in) Classics
Nov 02, 2013 01:20 am | incourage



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 3:16-17

As we enter this season of busy-ness and plans, let's take a moment to reflect on the reason for the upcoming holidays and all the days in between. Let us take time to remember that all good things come from above and thank our God for all things and in all things.

We've gathered a few (in)courage classics about gratitude and thanksgiving for you this weekend. Enjoy!


——————–

How to Give Thanks Like an Artist by Emily Freeman
When we write, we remember. When we read our own words, we understand. But when someone else reads words we wrote, we come alive. In this time of year for thanks and for giving, be thankful for your art. Be graceful in the giving of it.

My New To-Do List by Jennifer Schmidt
There are so many things to do today as I rush to ready ourselves for our grand feast: a feast to feed the tummies of so many of our loved ones. Yet as I rush, shop, clean, cook, bake, and referee, sometimes I forget to just breathe, and savor the moments we are creating.

While I want to feed tummies, more importantly, my desire is to feed souls.

When You Don't Want to Say Thanks by Tsh Oxenreider
You know the only way I'm able to change my attitude from grumbling to grateful when I just don't feel like it?

I just choose to say thanks. I don't wait for my emotions to change.


Little Things by Angela Nazworth
I have found that the more time I take to bask in simple pleasures and to give thanks for the seemingly ordinary, the richer my life becomes ... or rather, the more equipped I am to understand and appreciate the riches I've been given.

On Being Thankful by Heather
In this seasons of "firsts" when everything around me tells me that I have nothing to be thankful for, I look back and remember all of the blessings that have been bestowed on me, despite the heartache that has come my way. I remember the words of my Father and smile...

"These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace.
In the world you have tribulation, but take courage;
I have overcome the world."
John 16:33

Because Thanksgiving is More Than a Holiday by Ann Voskamp
Stress decreases by half – simply by multiplying our thanks. Why in the world don't we do this?

It wasn't complicated. It wasn't easy.

It was beautiful, the way thanksgiving gave us our lives back.


——————–

For more seasonal posts, check out the "Seasonal" tab on the front page of the (in)courage site, as well as in the sidebar of the blog!

What are you thankful for this season?

[Judy Harder]

Living a Life That Matters
Nov 04, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Mae



You can't go back.

The days roll forward with indifference; it's up to you to make them count. It's up to you how you shape and stretch the hours to form the life you choose to live.

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." Annie Dillard

Your children are at your mercy with their hours and their days and their mornings and their nights. You are the god of their time. Are you digging your fingers into the clay that is the moments and molding something worth keeping?

How are your days?

Yes, you're tired, I know. Some days you wish you could just have clear direction; you wish that the voice of the One would speak louder the voices of those who you aim to please. You want to please Him, but those voices...that person who you feel like you must live up to, or offer defense of your choices, or feel unworthy compared to them. If you just knew what to do, or what was pleasing to God, or who to listen to, you'd follow. In the depths of your heart you're surrendered to the man who hung on the cross. The man who says, "Anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple."

You want to follow; you want your days and the hours to matter. You want to push out the voices and cling to the One voice that matters. You want to live well and have integrity.

Here's how you live a life that matters:

You choose surrender to the cross. You stop trying; you surrender.

You count the cost of your "yes." The yes to surrender, the yes to the Bible study or the book club or the blog or travel or alone time or...

Every "yes" has a cost that a wise person must weigh.

"For which one of you, when he wants to build a tower, does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if he has enough to complete it?" Luke 14:28 (NASB)

The only "yes" you should give without reserve is that to serve for Christ's sake. The cross is heavy and painful and blood-stained. If you choose it, you choose surrender. You choose to serve and to lay down.

"Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple."
Luke 14:33 (MSG)

We must not love anything or anyone more than Jesus. But I believe that when we love Him above all, esteem Him above all, and surrender to Him before all, He will to mold our moments.

He will knead and roll and create beauty and life out of this clay, the clay that can only but be still before Him.

Let Him mold you and your days. Whisper off your mornings to Him, being conscious that you will accept the shape He gives. Say yes to Him, and guard your "yes" otherwise. Count the cost of your "yes." Serve. And by the way, serving doesn't mean you do more. When you serve "the least of these" you are serving Jesus. I think for many of us, the "least of these" is the eternal ones in our care. Don't forget to serve your family.

"The dedicated life is the life worth living. You must give with your whole heart." -Annie Dillard

What are you dedicated to? Do your hours match that dedication?

By Sarah Mae

P.S. Today I am re-releasing my eBook, More Than Candy: A 25-Day Countdown that Counts. It's about doing work that matters during the advent season...it's about making a difference to the "least of these." The first 100 people to purchase it (it's only $4.99 on either Kindle or as a PDF) get the DaySpring Redeemed Christmas Countdown Chalkboard for FREE. I'm also giving away a Willow Tree Nativity from DaySpring. Head HERE to check it out!

[Judy Harder]

Afraid to Turn the Next Corner
Nov 05, 2013 12:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst



You know how some people love the thrill of being surprised? They love surprise parties. They would love to show up at work today and be told they are actually going on a surprise vacation and be whisked from their desk to paradise in just a few hours.

They would love to have one of those makeover shows show up at their house with a film crew and be told they're getting a whole new wardrobe.

Surprises feel thrilling to them. Like the thrill some people get when a roller coaster ride you thought was over suddenly takes off again and starts doing upside down loops. They throw their hands in the air and embrace the thrill of the unknown.

They call that fun.

I don't.

I love a good birthday party. But I don't want it to be a surprise.

I love a good vacation. But I don't want it to be planned for me.

I love winning stuff and would freely accept a gift certificate for a new wardrobe. But I don't want all the clothes to be picked out for me.

I like (not love) a roller coaster. I don't mind when it finally crests the lift hill and then careens downward like the bottom just fell out of the world. But I don't want it to take unexpected twists and turns.

This dislike of surprises can usually be managed with all the things I mentioned.

My friends know not to throw me a surprise party. No one is looking to give me a surprise vacation or new wardrobe. And before getting on a roller coaster, I thoroughly check it out and know its patterned route.

But life is different.

Life twists and turns and throws loops into those places we think will be flat and smooth. Because that's what life does. Sometimes it all just catches us off guard.

And at the end of the day, I guess that's why I don't like to be surprised. I can't stand to get caught off guard. It makes me feel exposed and afraid.

But slowly, I'm learning it's not all bad to be a little exposed and afraid.

That vulnerable place reminds us we have needs beyond what we manage. It reminds us we need God. Desperately. Completely.

And into that gap between what we can manage on our own and what we can't, that's right where faith steps in and has the opportunity to find deep roots. Roots that dig down and break up previously unearthed places within us.

My faith doesn't just need to grow big, it needs to grow deep. Yes, I need deep faith roots.

Deep roots anchor us when surprises blow like strong, unruly winds.

Deep roots hold us steady during the next storm that didn't show up on the radar.

Deep roots find nourishment when the surface gets awfully dry.

Deep roots allow for growth not previously possible.

Deep roots yield rich fruit.

So, I'm learning to not be so afraid of what might be around the next corner. Even if it does catch me off guard. I close my eyes and whisper... "deeper still."

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit," (Jeremiah 17: 7-8 ESV).

By Lysa TerKeurst

If you're looking for encouragement to grow deeper faith roots, check out Lysa's book, Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy.




Lessons From a Tenderhearted Father
Nov 05, 2013 12:10 am | Kendra Duty



There are many days when I feel overwhelmed being a mom of three young children. Of course they bless my heart in so many ways, but I feel emotionally weighed down on the demanding days of discipline, mediating disputes and constant shepherding. My heart breaks when I see my childrens' sin running rampant, an abundance of offenses that affect everyone –especially me.

The majority of outward sinfulness exudes from one child in particular. He is a walking, talking cloud of simultaneous joy, strife, fun and sin. We've found him in a variety of precarious situations ranging from walking outside by himself three doors down the street (a 3-year-old escapee!) to chasing his siblings around with scissors trying to cut them. When he gets upset, he runs to his room, slamming the door. Then, when he is good and ready, he will come out screaming with joy, ready for another adventure.

I have another child who is almost perfect. She plays independently, makes up adventures outside and loves to read, so you will often find her cozied up in a corner with her idea of a good book (think Mary-Kate and Ashley adventures!). She's also the safety patrol, the justice police, and the snack monitor. She's all about order and putting the wrongdoer in his place.

As I was reading the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15, it hit me that these two children of mine are just like the younger and older brother. And the father — Oh, can I empathize with his plight! First, he is primarily dealing with the sin of his younger son, who basically wished he was dead when he requested the inheritance and left home. Then, he has to deal with the older son who can't comprehend his radical and irresponsible grace.

Isn't this how it goes at your house? You finish shepherding one child, feeling at peace with the the situation and relieved that it's over, and as you are leaving the room another child throws a big fit, has an accident or you overhear a dispute in the next room. Awesome. Just what you wanted to do right now.

This father is in the same boat. He may not be dealing with minor things like wiping spills and divvying out Legos, but he's still a parent wrestling through loving his kids, just as we are.

Between the excitement of his youngest son coming home, arranging a big feast, hosting, pleading with his oldest son, and the heartbreak of his rejection, he must feel pretty overwhelmed! I can empathize because I have felt all those things before.

Dealing with a child's rejection, shepherding another child who may seek to earn God's favor, planning meals, hosting parties, and also the flood of emotions — it can give us a sense of what he must have been going through.

Now, switch roles and set the scene as it truly is.  The wonderful father from the parable is our Father in heaven — the God of the universe, Creator and Sustainer of life. The One who loves us constantly though we reject Him. The One who sees us from afar and sprints to us, rejoicing at our repentance like a little joyful child. The One who lavishes His grace and provision on us, though we're far from deserving it and try desperately to earn it.

As our kids age, we will no doubt become more emotionally invested in them, leading to more joy and more heartache. By the power of God's strength alone, we can emulate grace, love and tenderness, like our gracious Father.

[Judy Harder]

The Price of Ignoring Our Problems
Nov 06, 2013 12:20 am | Mary Carver



Shortly after buying our home, our washing machine overflowed and flooded our entire garage. We frantically called a plumber and anxiously awaited his diagnosis. We'd barely adjusted to paying our monthly mortgage and all the utilities and STUFF that go with homeownership at that point. So when the plumber looked us in the face and announced that our pipes were BAD and needed several thousand dollars' work as soon as possible, we were devastated.

Quickly, though, we moved into survivor mode. In other words, we pretended like the problem didn't exist.

Oh, we knew – and worried – that our pipes could collapse at any moment. That fear, honestly, has held us at least partially captive for the past decade. Every time our toilet gurgled or our sink drained slowly, we cringed, holding our breaths and wondering, Could this be the time? Has our plumbing ticket been called?

And in the meantime, because the problem had not been properly solved, we were forced to call that plumber back to our house every few months to put a Bandaid on the issue.

Isn't that sometimes how we go about living?

We notice a problem but think it's going to be too messy, too risky, too complicated to fix right now. So we make do. We work around it. We ignore it.

Funny thing, though. Much as this girl who avoids confrontation at all costs would like to believe that ignoring issues will make them go away, I think we all know IT DOESN'T. It simply creates obstacles in our lives, as we go out of our way to avoid the underlying issues causing trouble.

Ignoring the problems might mean we don't have to make the big investment up front, but eventually, what might have begun as a small problem will erupt into something bigger, messier and often costlier than we ever imagined.

Last night, a plumber spent four hours in our house, trying to clean out our drains. I waited patiently for news, shushing my daughter every time she asked when he would ever be finished and go home to his own house. And when he walked into our living room, nearly in tears at the news he had to deliver, I found myself reassuring him that it was okay, that we'd known this was coming, that we'd pay whatever it cost and yes, isn't it too bad that we didn't sell the house before this happened?

Despite our greatest wish and best ignoring intentions, our plumbing problems hadn't gone away. In fact, when I did the math, I was less than surprised to see that we'd spent approximately the same amount of money on dozens of occasional plumber visits than we would have had we simply fixed the problem ten years ago.

This story isn't simply a cautionary tale about old houses with old pipes. It's a clear reminder to me – and maybe to you, too? – that it's better to deal with problems right away, rather than to delay the confrontation, the complication, the cost of facing a challenge and finding a solution.

Maybe your problem is a misunderstanding between you and your husband that you've been avoiding. Or unmet expectations that you sweep under the proverbial marriage rug.

Or perhaps it's a co-worker who irritates you with her overpowering perfume or his insistence on taking credit for every success or her tendency to gossip and stir up trouble.

Are you ignoring a communication breakdown, a disappointment, a mistake that you can't truly move past? Are you telling everyone who asks – even yourself – that you're past the pain, over the heartbreak even though you continue to hurt and bleed? Are you pretending like everything is okay, while going out of your way to avoid a person or a place or a topic of conversation?

Is it possible you're paying the price of the problem, even though you have chosen not to face it?

Today could be the day you face your problems instead of averting your eyes or walking the long way around. Today could be the day that, finally, you can relax your jaw and breathe deep. Today could be the day that you stop allowing those ignored problems to hold you captive.

And when you choose to face those problems and work through them? God will be with you. Remember . . .

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)
I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13)
For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. (2 Timothy 1:7)
Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord! (Psalm 31:24)
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. (Ephesians 6:10-13)
The final bill to fix our plumbing problems was a mighty blow that's going to take a while to recover from. But as frustrating as it's been to go without running water for a few days and scrape together money that we don't really have, it's also a strange relief to finally get this situation fixed for good.

Maybe it's time I take that approach with a few other problems I've been avoiding.

What about you? Have you been ignoring a problem? How would it feel to finally face it?

[Judy Harder]

By Invitation Only
Nov 07, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Markley




I lived most of my life on the edges of cliques. I walked the borders between groups of friends and I bridged gaps between people. And this, of course, was all unintentional because I always would have rathered to just be IN.

Into the inside jokes

Into the shared experiences

Into the sameness while I stood apart.

Groups.

Cliques.

Circles.

Closed...close...cloistered.

Just the nature of a group implies that it is a closed thing and someone will always be hurt.

I don't know that there are any of us who haven't been wounded in some way by being excluded. I have. You have.

Yet I realize I'm a part of a lot of groups myself. I'm a part of closed groups. I'm a part of small, close things that no one on the outside gets. I'm a part of invitation-only, cloistered circles that are quiet and safe and lovely. I've also weaseled my way into groups of friends that are large and nebulous and free. Everyone knows everyone and everyone loves everyone and there is a whole lot of back-patting and I'm-praying-for-you's.

But I also know the pain of being left out.

I've stamped my boot in the spring soil even as recently as this year saying I-would-not-will-not go that conference because All of the People are a part of a group I will never breach. Stamped my foot like a little girl and took my dollies and went home.

I'm not a part of that post-college circle with whom I always dreamed of sharing laughter and meals. I'm not inside of the central group at the school or the core group at church. I'm on the outside of so much.

So I am both on the inside and on the outside. I've been the wounder and wounded. I've been the cloistered and the excluded. And I would venture to say, so have all of us at some level.

The truth is we all like to surround ourselves with safe people. We pad our worlds with love if we can and often that love comes in the form of friends. We feel the safest when we are known.

Maybe the need to become known is why we operate this way.

It's why even the most friendly of us will naturally find ourselves leaning toward our "people" in a large group because it feels safe. It's why when we walk into a big room we scan the crowd for familiarity. It's why we say the words, "Save me a seat."

We are known.

That place of wanting to be known is what drives us to form cliques and groups and circles of safe, loving people. But what we really want is to be known intimately by the One who created us and who thought about us before time began.

I wonder if we could take more intentional steps toward

Being known by God,

Being known by our families,

And being known by ourselves.

Then maybe the exclusion/inclusion wouldn't have the same impact and we wouldn't feel the same pain.

Even so, knowing all of this still doesn't make it feel good when we aren't invited, when that invitation goes to the other girl and not to me. When the invitation says, Hush. Don't tell so others won't feel bad. What is wrong with me that I can't be a part of that group? What is wrong with me that I am not chosen?

Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you or with me. In fact, we've been chosen and invited before the start of the world.

So may I have a heart and soul that is open to the whispers of God when He invites me to

"go talk to her,"

"go love her,"

"go listen."

And I enter into relationships that I would never have dreamed would have been for me.

I'm invited.

You're invited.

We're invited by the One who's throwing the only party that matters.





Catching Joy
Nov 07, 2013 12:10 am | Kaitlyn Bouchillon



I'd be willing to bet you've experienced some deep, hard things. Moments that can't be erased and memories that still haunt. Life change happened, whether you wanted it to or not.

But for all the struggles and questions and hard times, there is a joy.

It might have slipped you by, unnoticed in all the chaos, but I pray you found it.

On the other side of every trial is unending joy that will light up every dark place.

As the beauty of changing leaves shifts to a season of grey and white, I'm struck by how empty the world feels, void of color.

It all seems so looming, the changing of the season. There are certain days on the calendar that signal change, and as the temperature drops and the leaves fall I know one season is about to fade into the next. Thanksgiving is around the corner and I'm reminding myself of one simple word that changes everything:

eucharisteo

I will be thankful.

I will remember His goodness.

I will look for the light of Spring when Winter seems long.

I will be thanks-giving, counting it a joy as I jump in the Fall leaves and drink way too many pumpkin spice frappuchinos at Starbucks – because life is short and all is a gift, no matter the season.

I don't want to miss the gift of now by looking too far into the future. The present is a present, a gift waiting to be unwrapped.

How many joys have I allowed to slip by because I was too focused on the past or too worried about the future?

Every moment holds something of value – even the painful moments when you feel as empty of life as Winter. The fallen leaves may be hidden and the flowers of Spring have yet to bloom in your life, but as everything is blanketed by snow and you begin to feel empty, know that He is providing refreshment. This is a new season and it is a gift. The leaves will fall, the snow will melt, but don't wait until then to count your blessings.

We know it's coming, this change. We can't run from it or avoid it, so might I encourage you to embrace the new season of your life, even considering it a gift?

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

Don't miss the good memories of laughter and popsicles, late night movies with friends, or the way the sun hits the leaves when you lay under the trees. Remember that each moment, each person, every trial and joy, is preparing you for His work. Corrie Ten Boom says it best: "Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives, is the perfect preparation for the future that only He can see."

Catch the joys today, savor the moment and relish in the beauty. Don't let the moment slip you by; there is light amongst the snow and beauty in the falling of leaves. Everything is but a season.

Have you recently entered a new season of life? Are you in a place of Winter? What joys are you counting today?