(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Christianity Is The Gospel Of The Ungodly
Jul 24, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae




"Christianity is the gospel of the failed, of the ungodly, the unable, the unwilling, who simply woke up one day invited to God's house and went. Period." John Lynch

A wind has been blowing through my world.

The Spirit, His Spirit, the One wrapped up with mine has been been shaking things up in my heart this week. He has been wooing me back to the heart of the gospel, the heart of what it means to be a Christian.

When He first wooed me I was a little girl. Tucked under covers and teddy bear under my arm, I asked "God" to find my sister. She had been taken by her father, so the story went, and my mom didn't know where she was.

I prayed that God would bring her back. And He did. My mom found my sister and I believed.

A seed is planted.

When I was in 8th grade I heard a Christian music tape, Clay Crosse, and I was blown away. I had never heard Christian music before, only hymns, and I prayed for what the man was singing about, I wanted it.

The seed sprouts.

I found myself in a church where there was singing and clapping and laughter and my spirit rejoiced. "People clap and sing for God? Why have I never seen this before?" I had found my people; I was where the Spirit was.

The dirt moved; it breaks.

I started going to Young Life in high school because it's where all the cool kids went on Wednesday nights. I heard about a man-God named Jesus and I fell in love.

Something green lifts towards the sun.

In college I joined the Navigators ministry and decided I would give my life to Jesus; I would follow Him. I knew I was a mess, and I was afraid He wouldn't love me, but He did. Mess and all. I became His.

She blooms.

God did not draw me to Him through my intellect, He wooed my heart and moved my spirit. When I first met my God, I was vulnerable and passionate; I couldn't get enough of Him, and I wanted everyone to know Him. But over the years I began to wall up my heart. I started letting voices in that said my mind was more important, and the scriptures must be adhered to as though they consisted of textbook facts. I lost my heart and began letting my mind lead. I grew colder, and I made many judgements on others and myself. I wanted to please God, I wanted to fight for Him and stand for truth. I needed meat; I was a "serious Christian."

I started trying to live in the ways I thought were godly. I tried and tried but man, I kept messing up. I was such a failure. Before I knew it, I was a shell of the woman I used to be.

Tired.

Lonely.

Burnt out.

No interest in church, no time to study the bible...if I even wanted to, that is.

Undone.

And then...

I felt it.

The wooing.

It is gentle and quiet, and so kind.

He reminds me that He wants me to have a heart of flesh, not of stone. He reminds me that He is pleased with me, just because I'm His. He reminds me that nothing I could do could make Him love me more and nothing I could do could make Him love me less. He reminds me that I am righteous, right now, because of Jesus.

He's always been there (He doesn't leave), but I forgot about my heart.

My new heart, the one that is not wicked or ugly. The one that is beautiful because it is infused with His.

Today, I remember my heart, and I let myself be in love.

And friend, it is absolutely, unequivocally,

freeing.

By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com



This House Is Not My Home
Jul 24, 2012 01:10 am | Sarah Van Beveren




We rent the house that we currently call home. And while we save for a house of our own, I feel displaced and unsettled.

I tell myself that the reason for this is because it is not "ours." If it belonged to us then we could invest in the changes I long for.

An island for the kitchen. Hardwood on the stairs. A fresh coat of paint on the trim. Instead of putting money away for a down payment, I could use it to decorate and then our home would feel welcoming and wonderful. And if our house felt welcoming and wonderful, we could enjoy our life together more.

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.  (Psalm 90:1)

I need to remind myself that this house is not my home.

Too often I believe the lie that the things God has created are better than the Creator Himself. I look to the god of comfort for satisfaction, instead of the God of the Universe. I place my hope in throw pillows and duvet covers, golden calves throughout my home.

God has withheld no good thing. I have everything I need, and instead of looking to material possessions to soothe my soul, I need to run to Jesus, confess my blindness and thank him. Everything I have is evidence of God's scandalous grace. I'm not entitled to any of it, and I certainly don't deserve it.

What if the way my house looked was a reflection of the joy already present in my home, instead of using it to obtain that joy? 

God is the creator of beauty and has gifted to us the ability to enjoy his creation, but the things we find lovely and comforting in this world should point us to Him. What is beautiful about them is that they are tangible expressions of His glory.

What if I looked around my house and believed truth, that everything is a blessing. 

What if I was reckless and gave thanks for my empty kitchen, carpeted stairs, and chipping paint? These are gifts from a gracious Father, and he has blessed me with them and an abundance of more.

When my children are grown, I want them to feel nostalgic for their childhood. And while that will include memories of familiar blankets and baking in the kitchen, I pray that what will stand out in those moments is that God's heart was revealed to them. Where we loved, forgave, served, extended and received grace. Where out of our deep love for Christ, we became that which we were called to be: the hands and feet of Jesus.

For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. (2 Corinthians 5:1)

And so I will continue to decorate and create a warm space for my family.  But I will do so as an overflow of the beauty of God through us. I will pray for the strength to reject the lie that these things themselves are necessary for beauty. And I will do so knowing that none of this compares to our true home and the treasure that awaits us.

By Sarah, Truth in the Journey

[Judy Harder]

There are so many things I'm not good at.

And apparently I have an inner monologue determined to record each and every one of them.



There's a voice in my head that tells me I am not enough. Some days it's quiet and some days it's super shouty.

It's the strangest thing, to discover the back of your brain muttering mean things to yourself.

The whisper is so soft, so ordinary, so normal by now that I rarely stop to investigate. I just let the words run through my veins until they seem like a normal part of my DNA.

This house will never be clean.

You'll never get caught up on the laundry.

Your words won't match up to hers.

You're not good enough.

You're never going to get caught up.

You can't do that.

You're just not good at this.

I heard that voice in the car today. I was sitting in a Panera parking lot in our minivan. Alone. Maybe that's why I listened without just letting it wash over me. Maybe that's why I tuned in to the nefarious whispering I'd been letting slide up until now.

I listened and I almost couldn't believe what I heard. I was surprised actually. Kind of amazed that I was capable of such petty meanness to myself. Because the thing about that voice is that it is a nit picker. It delights in destroying the DNA of a day, a dream, a moment bit-by-petulant-bit.

But when I tuned in it sounded more and more like static. Fuzzy, harsh, wirey, unforgiving. But small. My friend Holley calls it devil static – the noise that tries to drown out the truth God is speaking into our lives and through our lives. The noise that crackles and cackles and tries to poke fun at who we are growing up into; tries to derail us out of sheer embarrassment.

I told that voice off today.

Yes, I talked back to myself in an empty car.

Because I remembered that a Father-God who surely loved His Son with all the gut-fire with which I love my Jackson and Micah handed Him over to pay my ransom; to rescue me from a brutal kidnapping He sent His only Son unarmed into the drop spot.

We all know what happened when He arrived.

I called that voice out. And in doing so I could almost hear it deflate. I addressed that no-voice with my whole attention, with my God-inheritance, with my royal claim and I could hear the static fizzling.

I am not nothing.

You are not nothing.

We are daughters of the King. We are bought at a price. We are beloved.

And there is a much greater voice, a voice with all the rich, resonant tones of Truth so filled with love for us that unlike that devil static He

will no longer rebuke you,

but will rejoice over you with singing.
~Zephaniah 3:17

With singing.

Not hissing or criticizing or comparing or mocking.

With singing.

Much later I sit on a mattress as old as my marriage and just let that beauty sink in.

And a new song plays in the back of my head.

by Lisa-Jo, community manager for (in)courage and cheerleader for kind words.



The Motive Trap
Jul 25, 2012 01:10 am | Chris Seay




Chris Seay takes every chance to celebrate and share his love of God with all who will listen. His many talents and leadership qualities allow this storyteller, pastor, writer, musician, husband, father, and son to compellingly convey the story of the absolute love of Jesus, the Liberating King to the church and culture.

In A Place at the Table, Chris Seay examines a culture built on consumption-especially of food- and how it is easy to forget the poor that Jesus cared so much about. Chris invites readers on a journey of self-examination, discipline, and renewed focus on Jesus that will change their lives forever.

***



In high school, I had one of the most unique and unusual jobs ever offered to a teenager. I worked for a recording company that produced and edited content for alcoholics anonymous. The bulk of my job was to attend AA meetings and record those sharing their stories or speaking to motivate a room of fellow strugglers in the battle with addiction. I can hardy imagine anything more life changing than this two year experience that immersed me in the culture of Alcoholics Anonymous and allowed me to hear some of the most life changing stories of my lifetime.

I remember being floored by the honesty and authenticity of those sharing their struggles with addiction and gaining amazing respect for the courage that it took to face an addiction that each man and woman seemed powerless to defeat on their own. I often pondered what it would feel like to be powerless against a substance, to begin to drink, and from that point forward to have no control over my actions, to be truly helpless.



Many decades later, I have a much better sense for what that feels like. I identify with the words of the Apostle Paul in Romans who says,

"I am not able to do the things I want; and at the same time, I do the things I despise."

I often feel an inner battle between what I know is good and what I'm actually going to do. If you are like me, one of the battle grounds of this war within is in the realm of food. I have found that at times I am powerless to my cravings for particular foods. I have unique fondness, you could call it an addiction, to Mexican food, specifically the chile con queso that's famously served up at many of my favorite restaurants in Houston, Texas. I have learned that if I begin to eat even one or two chips dipped in this delicious bowl of melted cheese, than I am unable to stop myself from finishing the entire bowl. For this reason, I have often struggled to lose the weight that I need to lose to be in my healthiest state.

When I have tried to control my cravings, I have learned exactly what Paul was talking about. The more I seem to focus on not giving into my cravings, the more I lean into excess and eat more than ever before. I know well now what it feels like to be one of those brothers and sisters in that circle at an AA meeting that feel totally out of control. Like Paul, I often wonder, who will free me from this body that struggles with sin and lack of self-control.

What I have learned in recent years is that when I focus less on controlling my cravings and instead on something much bigger than just me, my motives begin to shift. When my motives shift, I begin to see victory in areas that I was not even focusing on. I have learned that when I fast and contemplate the plight of the poor and my role as a follower of Jesus and being a part of that remedy, that I engage a part of my heart that is much bigger than my desire to lose weight, become more disciplined, healthier, and better looking. I am at my best when I am focused on being a part of something much bigger than I am, something that is much more than physical pursuits, something that is truly spiritual.

Augustine said our fasting should always nourish the poor:

"'Break your bread for those who are hungry,' said Isaiah, 'do not believe that fasting suffices. Fasting chastises you, but it does not refresh the other. Your privations shall bear fruit if you give generously to another.'"

In other words, if you pass on dinner, don't simply leave your plate in the cupboard; give your portion to someone who has none.

People fast from many different things, in many different ways, and for many different reasons. I would like you to avoid trying to sum up the reasoning for your fast with any singular purpose. It is too limiting in regard to the many things God will teach you on this journey. Would you like to develop a more intimate prayer life? Yes. Would you like to develop healthier and simpler diet that will sustain you long after this fast? Yes. Do you want to identify with the poor and become increasingly generous? Yes. Would you like to abandon patterns of addictive and selfish behavior? Yes. If you are like me and you weigh more than you should, would you like to lose weight? Yes. All of this is spiritual, and not one of these desired outcomes is unacceptable. In fact, I pray that you experience all of them.

We in the church have a nasty habit of trying to divorce the physical world from the spiritual world. The world is all encompassing, and any attempt to segregate anything God created (matter) as something that is not spiritual is not just a mistake, it is a heresy known as Gnosticism. So hear me clearly: my addiction to fresh tortilla chips and homemade salsa (impossible for me to resist) is a spiritual issue. The extra weight I carry with me is a spiritual issue, and it is never more painfully obvious than when I visit brothers and sisters living in extreme poverty. I have felt the gentle and loving rebuke of the Holy Spirit as I held an underweight child. I have too much, and she does not have enough. It is a painful realization, not only because it exposes my selfishness, but also because it is clear to me that my sin is evident to everyone present.

Sharing is at the heart of true Christianity.





Is there a  worldly, selfish motive that has trapped you in your Spiritual life? Were you able to give it up or would you be willing too?

Share with us in the comments below and 5 random commenter will be selected to win a copy of A Place at the Table.

FiBy: Chris Seay


nd more from Chris and purchase your copy of A Place at the Table here.

[Judy Harder]

When You're Finding it Hard to be Patient
Jul 26, 2012 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp


When we pour pancake batter into a griddle, they shape up like battered, misshapen hearts that sizzle and pop.

A little one looms dangerously close to heat.

A boy anxiously slops more batter. A lanky one flips prematurely, batter oozing, dripping. The sensitive child bursts into tears that the hearts are all smeared, the rings mashed. Oldest, with egg poised to crack, asks if I want more?

More? More? It's all a bit too much. I sense a loudness, akin to a pleading howl, surging close to my lips.

The Spirit soothes, strokes the frayed edges: "Love is patient."

Love is patient?

Why is patience the first qualifier in the biblical "love chapter" describing the characteristics of love?

I mean, why not first, "Love is gentle," or "Love is tender?" Or, better yet (to my feeble mind), "Love is a flash of divine revelation, a supernatural infusing of the spirit of God." Yes, all that.

But the inspired Words says that the foundation of love is first this: patience.

How can I be patient in the tipsiness of this domestic chaos?

How can I be patient in the pain of now?

When vocal cords pitch screams, when tears brim and fall, when the clock keeps ticking steadily ahead and we just keep sputtering, stumbling along?

Deep breathe.

And it strikes me, an epiphany over the fry of bubbling pancakes, "Love is only patient if it's first grateful for what is."

When I am not patient? My failure to love is first a failure to be grateful for who people are right now.

And my impatience is a result of my unthankfulness – I'm impatient for the children to be someone different, for the cashier to hurry up, for this to get done right now.

The more dissatisfied I am in this moment, the more discontented I am with who they are, with what is happening — the harder it becomes to be patient, to be loving.

Patient people dare to gratefully accept people where they are. Grateful for who they are now, appreciative of works of art not yet finished, but still deeply loved.

Patient people dare to receive the present always as a present — grace.

Patient people dare to live only in the present. Because they know that is where God is.

Lack gratitude — then lack patience — then, ultimately, lack love. To be love-full, I'll first need to be grateful.

It is true: I can love only when I am thankful for the now.

Henri Nouwen suggests that "[t]he word patience means willingness to stay where we are and live out the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us."

In every moment I want to escape, some hidden gift hides, if I will wait patiently and dare to live to fully into that moment.

Deep breathe. Love is patient.

I can smile here — because really — there are no emergencies.

Emergencies are wildfires, screeching sirens, and gaping wounds. In everyday life, we rarely experience emergencies.

As Simone Weil writes, "Waiting patiently...is the foundation of the spiritual life."

Really, what catastrophe will befall if we're late? Or dinner is on the table 15 minutes after six? Or we have to look another 10 minutes for junior's shoe?

No emergencies. Now is good.

Now is not an emergency to rip through, but a moment to embrace with gratitude.

Standing in the kitchen, I turn my head, and when I see the world slant, hidden gift reveals themselves.

The kid leaning over the griddle? That curiosity endears, lights, impassions. Here, let's lift you away from that heat and let you see these frying cakes.

The sensitive child wailing? That tender heart is a unique gift. Why don't we pour another batter heart again and mend yours too?

And there's the way

the light shaft pools on the floor at child's feet

little one's nose curls up when she laughs

the nape of his neck when he bends to see

When the gifts are patiently unearthed from the day's rubble, we build love. Love is what stabilizes chaos.

The kids crush in and I grin.

I think I get it, the order of love, the preeminence of patience — love is patient first. Because it first is grateful for what is.

The oldest flips pancakes, and a boy pours more batter, and the youngest pushes her chair in close to see –

how everything milky and buttery loops patient on the pan, all in these slow, interconnected rings.





~ Written for you with love, by Ann Voskamp

Q4U: 'To be love-full I'll first need to be grateful'.  Have you connected impatience with ungratefulness before? How has love stabilized your chaos recently? Can we begin to do this together, friends...unearth the daily gifts? Let's be real and encourage each other in the comments...



On Telling Your Story: The Story Of Us
Jul 26, 2012 01:10 am | Alia Joy




Everyone has a story.

Whether it's worth being told is a question we often wrestle with as writers. Do we open our hearts and draw out memories and bind them together with words and phrases trying to make them dance or penetrate or wrap tight around our readers? Do we use our minds to spark a fire in our reader's neurons, inspiring thought and contemplation?

Do we trust that the story written is one that is being authored by the master of all words?  Or do we doubt the ink on the sheet, the Helvetica lines marching across the page? Are our words too insignificant, our story too small to be worthy of an audience?

What is our goal in putting pen to paper, typing out lines on the screen, or scratching phrases onto receipts or gum wrappers for fear of losing those precious words?

Do we wish to come alongside each other and lift up our days of jelly stained cheeks and naps that are missed and dreams that seem forever out of our grasp? Do we celebrate wild when we are fierce, even when we are frail? Because God has invested in us eternity.



When our words are read, are we hoping you'll grasp your sides and sink down into a belly laugh that makes you snort, or weep understanding, or grip your fists in righteous anger?

Do we hope to take a little off your plate with something that has worked for us?

Do we need someone to sprinkle our path with wisdom because they have seen the other side and walked these steps and know?

Do we just want someone to type in the comments, "Yes, you get me. Thank you."

Words have lived eternal. In the beginning was The Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. God has told His story in Chapter and Verse but just as scripture is alive, a breathing moving power, we too are filled with story for we are made in His image.

Our days a testament to His grace, in the messy moments of motherhood, when our tongues slip or our tempers flare and impatience leaks out fleshly and feral. And His grace bleeds into the cracks.

We are filled with story in our pursuit of love. In our hearts for the poor, the oppressed, the tiny bodies filled full with spirit, entrusted to our care.  Even when our love is imperfect.

We tell it in children sponsored, adopted, birthed. In mouths fed, lives nourished, and families formed. Souls brought whole into grace.

We are filled with story when we spread bare our souls and let our words show His way. In our families, our marriages, our lives as single women or mothers, in our ministries and workplaces and art.

So, tell your story. Shout it out, or jot it down. Share it over coffee and a scone. Share the beauty but don't leave out the mess, the burdens, the fears and failings. It's in our humanity that we connect and see the embroidered threads swirling into images. Of a people redeemed. The story of us.



By Alia Joy writing her story at Narrow Paths to Higher Places

[Judy Harder]

What are your tools?
Jul 27, 2012 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard

As humans, I believe we are meant to create. Creativity is an expression of our souls. It gives insight into who we are and what we think and feel.

Matthias, my youngest son uses paper, markers, crayons, pencils and paints to create his art. He loves to draw and he spends time every day perfecting the details of batman's cape or ironman's secret weapon. It's more than just drawing to him, it's an expression of his imagination and I see him push himself creatively without fear of failure.

David, my oldest son, who has a severe disability, uses keyboards to create his art. He loves to tap out tunes on the piano or electric keyboard. He lays his head close to the instrument, because he not only wants to hear his music, he wants to feel the vibration. Music is part of his soul. As his parents, we take this seriously and we try to nurture his passion to create with sound.

My husband, Steve, has a pastor's heart and he's working in a doctorate degree right now.  He creates with words–both written and spoken.  He writes to communicate deep ideas in a clear and meaningful way. His words will move your soul and change your heart. His words are insightful and encouraging. His words are his art.

I often have people say to me, "I'm not creative."  But I don't believe them.  I hear them saying, "I wish I could be creative." I think we all desire to create something beautiful and something filled with meaning–maybe they just haven't figured out where their creative talents lie.

Creating can be incredibly vulnerable. A couple of days ago I had a meeting with a fine jeweler in town. I needed his help setting a stone for a special project I'm working on. As I entered his workshop I thought to myself, "I'm a fake. I don't know anything about fine jewelry. He's going to laugh at me."

Because I'm mostly self-taught as a jewelry designer, many of my methods aren't 'by the book'. In the big picture, it doesn't really matter, does it? But there are times I feel inadequate or insecure because I don't have a degree in jewelry design. A degree doesn't make you an artist, it's time and practice and nurturing skill and creativity that help to make an artist. But no matter how much education or experience we have, creating something from the heart can make us feel vulnerable.

I have friends who uses words as art. I have friends who use fabric and thread to express themselves. I have friends who use a skillet and olive oil to create beautiful (and delicious) things. A camera can be a tool to create, just like yarn, paint, seeds or a hammer can be tools.

Are you setting aside your insecurities to nurture your God-given creativity? What are the tools you use to create art?

By: Lisa Leonard

[Judy Harder]

50 of Our Favorite Encouraging Tweets from July '12
Jul 29, 2012 01:20 am | incourage


In the eye of the storm, God is wrapping you around with His whole self. No one walks through the valley alone. @incourage
Don't forget to remember, fear tells you who you are not, but faith reminds you who you are! ‏@ChristineCaine
Beauty is a state of heart, not of hair. @incourage
Love is a roof that absorbs the storms. #1000gifts @AnnVoskamp
Success isn't "not failing;" it's simply trying. @sarahmarkley
Just make friends. Don't network. @inspiredbryant
When you think your dream is done, it's the perfect time for the impossible to happen. @squeeinc
When you say: I feel defeated. God says: You are a conqueror! @ReneeSwope
The more we stand in awe of God, the less we'll stand in judgment of each other. @bobgoff
Reason to be thankful: my gravatar never has a bad hair day. @HolleyGerth
I ask for eyes to see the world brand new every day. ‏@stacey29lincoln
There are times dirt must be ignored. We're headed to the pool! @RachelWojo
I can always give thanks because an all-powerful God always has all things – always under control. @AnnVoskamp
Just remember that God is on your team and He adores you and your children. He will be faithful to you. @Sally_Clarkson
The truth will set you free... but first, it will make you mad, defensive, and uncomfortable. @THEmollybowman
When you let the walls crumble, you begin to really walk by faith into the Light and everything changes. @sarahmae
Bad moments don't make bad mamas. @LysaTerKeurst
What happens in us matters far more than what happens to us. Our experiences don't define us; our response to them does @gritandglory
I think God is whispering to my heart that He is still in the business of doing new things. @stacey29lincoln
God isn't disappointed in our failures; He delights in our attempts. @bobgoff
Our children don't expect us to be perfect, they just want us to love them. @Sally_Clarkson
Exhale a little and think about failure being God's gift of redirection. @TraceePersiko
Sometimes being kind is more important than making our point. ‏@lisajobaker
Be anxious for nothing. God is still in control! @DaySpring
Monday Encouragement: Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7 @compassion
Cast your care on God, and enjoy your day while He works on your problem. @JoyceMeyer
"Ordinary" is often the disguise of the divine. #lessonsfromGideon So keep your eyes open today. @PriscillaShirer
Accepted in Christ, we now run the race "for the joy that is set before us" rather than "for fear that comes behind us." @DailyKeller
I am not nothing.You are not nothing. We are daughters of the King bought at a price. We are beloved. @incourage
Anytime we find our way back to God, He's not just waiting, He's *running* toward us! @incourage 
When regret weighs heavy, only turning outward and not inward lightens the load. @Kristen_Strong
Help me, Jesus, to never stop learning what you are teaching. @stacey29lincoln
Fear corrodes our confidence in God's goodness. God has not given us a spirit of fear—but of power, love & self-control. #Fearless @MaxLucado
Sometimes the benefit of the doubt is the very best gift you can give a friend @incourage
The simple act of [loving] is the most unmitigated and courageous display of Christianity we can show our neighbor. ‏@BiancaOlthoff
If you expect the best of people, that's usually what you'll find in them. @incourage
Love is generous. Enthusiastically so. @lisajobaker
Laughter can make moments more memorable. Whether laughing along or with others, it helps us feel good about our memories. @PatsyClairmont
Don't worry about tomorrow. God is already there. @incourage
New things can be both good and scary. Focus on the good and pursue what's up ahead with courage! @LisaRWhittle
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Ps. 30:5 — All suffering is temporary. @AGLotz             
Chocolate is proof that God is sensitive to our needs... and meets each one perfectly. @incourage
Beautiful is what happens when no one's looking: in the laundry room, back row at church, or changing diapers @incourage
Try and fail. Try and succeed. But always try. We don't know what we're capable of unless we try. @BiancaOlthoff
Celebrate your progress; don't mourn how far you still have to go.  @JoyceMeyer     
Without doubt I believe the best use of your life is love. @pwilson
Laughter can make moments more memorable. Whether laughing along or with others, it helps us feel good about our memories.@PatsyClairmont
Don't heavy today with yesterday's regrets or poison it with tomorrow's troubles. Fill you day with God; choose to make it great! @MaxLucado     
I read on a t-shirt just yesterday & thought of you – "Save planet earth! It's the only one that has chocolate!" @lifesurrendered
Motherhood isn't rocket science. It's harder. @WeareTHATfamily   

[Judy Harder]

My Pirfect Life
Jul 30, 2012 01:20 am | Nancy Jo


Nancy Jo Sullivan is an inspirational author and speaker.  She has published with Random House, Guideposts, Readers Digest,  and the Huffington Post.

In her newest book, Small Mercies, Sullivan writes about God's presence in her life through motherhood, family and love.  Through poignant reflections, she recalls how she found God even in her darkest moments, such as during her divorce and in the months that followed the death of her Down syndrome daughter.  She reminds the reader that God is present in "every mess, burden and blessing."

The mother of two grown daughters, Nancy Jo resides in Saint Paul, Minnesota.  She loves hanging out with her daughters, teaching writing classes to kids with special needs, jogging, drinking spinach smoothies and writing about all her imperfect stories.

***

What does a perfect life look like?

When I ponder this question, thoughts of Sarah come to mind.

She was born on a snowy Minnesota evening, over two decades ago.  She was our first, a beautiful newborn with auburn hair and a dimpled smile. But within an hour of her birth, the doctors began gathering around my bedside.  We believe your baby has Down's syndrome...

Questions, all of them unanswerable, filled me. Why this baby? Why our family? What did the future hold? I had prayed for a healthy child. Now, it was clear that her disability was non-negotiable.

But as the first months and years of her life passed, I fell in love with this amazing child. As an infant she smiled, always.  She never went through her terrible twos, threes, and fours. She was too busy defying her disability, grinning widely as she slowly learned to walk, talk, sing, and dance.

Sarah loved fairy tales; all the timeworn stories of princesses and true love. One afternoon, I was reading her Snow White, along with her two younger sisters.  With a crown on her head, Sarah pointed to a picture of a regal princess in a sparkling gown.

"Mom...That's...that's....mmme,"  she stuttered.  She got up and began dancing around the room.  "I'm...I'm...loved."

I never was sure if it was Sarah's disability or her innate goodness that rendered her incapable of bitterness or resentment. Yes, she was vulnerable, unable to defend herself in a world that was often cruel. Nonetheless, her life was a song of kindness, one that she taught all of us to sing.

As Sarah moved into her teenage years, she began penning her thoughts on the inside covers of her fairy tale books.  Each afternoon, she would write at her desk wearing a tiara and dress up gown.

Sometimes, as I passed by her room with a laundry basket, I would take a peek at her misspelled messages: My nme is prncess Sarah. God livs in my hart. Someday my prnce wll come.

One day, she wrote, I have a pirfect life. I patted her on the back and went back to my work, grinning.

During her twenty-three years on earth, Sarah never once lamented about what she couldn't do. Instead, she read love stories. She wrote beautiful messages. She dressed up on ordinary afternoons. She danced. She smiled. She treasured each of her days.

Were there times when her disability was hard on me? Did I have moments when I wished everything was different? Of course.

But now that she is safe in God's arms, I can't recall the hard days.

In the world's eyes, Sarah's life was far from perfect. She bore the slanted eyes and low muscle tone of a Down-syndrome child. She functioned at the level of a first grader. She wasn't wealthy, powerful, or famous.

But Sarah's disabilities did not define her. On the contrary, she saw herself as royalty. The Lord of true love lived in her heart.  His light shimmered from her eyes and radiated from the irrepressible joy she shared. She was a princess, God's beloved.

These days, I love to remember Sarah wearing her crown—and think of myself wearing one too, as she taught me. We are all princes and princesses. We need not be perfect to win the affection of our heavenly King. Even if we are disabled by many fears and failings, we cannot be stripped of our royal identity.

So today, put on your crown.

Defy your disabilities and dance for joy.

Your pirfect life is waiting to be lived.

***************************************

By Nancy Jo, NancyJoSullivan.com

Giveaway: To enter to win a copy of Small Mercies, answer, Who has led you to the Lord of true love?

Loyola Press has created a coupon code just for (in)courage readers, good for 30% off the cover price! Just purchase your copy here, with the code "Mercies." Valid through August 31.



On having childlike faith
Jul 30, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne




I sat next to my 7 year old on his bed, gathered the quilt around him and rubbed his forehead to help him calm and quiet. As we talked he told me he had questions about life. About God.

He asked me what heaven would be like, when we'd get to heaven and then who was in heaven now. Then he asked me what was going to happen with daddy's job.

I realized then that so much of how I answered was based on the fact I knew he believed everything I said.

He did not question that I was correct or that God was possibly not going to do what I said He would do, nor did he question me when I told him of God's promises in the bible.

When I told him God was going to provide all our needs, he didn't doubt me for a second. When I said all who choose Jesus will have eternal life, he believed those words. When I told him that he would never be separated from God, he knew it was the truth.

It struck me how many times I've questioned those same truths. How many times I've struggled in my faith to find answers that stuck with me. How many times I've wondered if God was really there, really loved me, and really would never leave me.

Lately I've been feeling like during prayer God keeps reminding me to have childlike faith. To just receive what He wants to give me, with simple faith. Sometimes the thought occurs to me – imagine if I believed everything God said?

I know that questioning is ok, and I have a faith in Jesus that can certainly be questioned and still stand strong. His Truth is a tower. I cling to the Holy Spirit that confirms Jesus' words. However, I know when my head is believing but my heart is struggling.

And those moments – when I don't necessarily question the facts, but still struggle to have faith — those are the moments when I can take a page from my kids. I can let go, fall back into childlike faith, and let Jesus catch me.

***
By Arianne

How do you overcome times when your faith is wobbly?

[Judy Harder]

Covered
Jul 31, 2012 01:20 am | Nancy Jo


Nancy Jo Sullivan is an inspirational author and speaker. She has published with Random House, Guideposts, Readers Digest,  and the Huffington Post.

In her newest book, Small Mercies, Sullivan writes about God's presence in her life through motherhood, family, and love. Through poignant reflections, she recalls how she found God even in her darkest moments, such as during her divorce and in the months that followed the death of her Down syndrome daughter. She reminds the reader that God is present in "every mess, burden, and blessing."

The mother of two grown daughters, Nancy Jo resides in Saint Paul, Minnesota. She loves hanging out with her daughters, teaching writing classes to kids with special needs, jogging, drinking spinach smoothies, and writing about all her imperfect stories.

***



When I was a little girl, I used to get up early each morning—way before my 8 other siblings—and join my father at the kitchen table. While I ate my Rice Krispies, my broad-shouldered father began telling me stories about a maiden who bore the same nickname as mine.

According to my father, "Ko-cheeze" was a Native American princess who lived along the Mississippi river in the 1800s. As Dad described the thick forests that framed the waters, I could almost see Ko-cheeze canoeing through the waves, her long hair blowing in the breeze. "She wore moccasins and a buckskin skirt. She was a free spirit," Dad explained.

Often, Ko-cheeze would stop to search for precious jewels along the shoreline. I would imagine her dancing around a tribal campfire as Dad tapped his hands on the table like a drum. "Close your eyes—can you see her?" Dad would say.

As I grew, I came to cherish those early-morning moments with my father, because, when evening came, everything changed.  At 5:15 pm, when Dad arrived home from his job at an insurance company, he would always be carrying a paper bag that held an eight-pack of beer.  Making his way to an upstairs den, he would quietly close the door, sealing himself off.  In that dimly lit room, he would watch Wheel of Fortune and begin to drink in solitude.

We never knocked on the door.  None of us knew the person who drank in darkness.

"Why does Dad drink?" I asked my mother one night as I did my homework at the kitchen table. "Your father has many regrets," she said. She talked about the untimely death of his father and how Dad quit Notre Dame Law School in his mid twenties. "He keeps everything bottled up inside," she told me.

When I was 19, our family tried doing an intervention with Dad, but he never showed up.

The night after the intervention that never happened, I opened the door of the den and sat down on the chair right next to him.  We sat together in the shadows, facing his silent television.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes misting.

"I know Dad..."

My father died 10 years later at the age of 55, the age I am now.

I suppose at this stage in my life I could easily call myself a victim or be angry that I grew up in an alcoholic home. But I believe that my father loved me and each member of our family.  I've chosen to forgive him for succumbing to a disease that ultimately robbed him of life. The truth is, the best part of Dad lives on in me and in the stories I am now called to share.

In every family, there are hurts that linger and sins that we are called to forgive.

While forgiveness can be difficult, especially when loved ones refuse our help, the Scriptures provide us with these encouraging words: "Above all, let your love for one another be intense, because love covers a multitude of sins" (I Peter 4:.

Perhaps a family member has closed a door on you. Maybe your child has become defiant or your spouse has betrayed you or a parent has let you down. If so, let God give you the grace to forgive them. Love them intensely. Rest assured that love—yours and God's—will cover a multitude of sins.

***************************************
By Nancy Jo, NancyJoSullivan.com

Giveaway: To enter to win a copy of Small Mercies, answer, How have you been called to share the intense love of God?

I wish to thank my mother, Mary Heiztman, for giving me permission to share this story.

Photo by Rachel Arguelles.

Loyola Press has created a coupon code just for (in)courage readers, good for 30% off the cover price! Just purchase your copy here, with the code "Mercies." Valid through August 31.




How to Love Your Home {Even When You Don't Like It}
Jul 31, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels




Most of us don't live in perfect houses. We live with random furniture handed down and collected over time. We may live in a less-than-ideal rental or a home that was not custom built perfectly for our taste and needs. Things may be deteriorating faster than we can afford to fix or replace them. When faced with a choice of paying for braces for the kids or updating our furniture, the braces probably will win out.



Yet while decorating the house might seem frivolous when kids need to be fed and bills need to be paid, creating a home you love to live in is not necessarily a sign of misplaced priorities. I think loving the home you have while living within your means can be an act of gratitude for what God has provided.



While it would be helpful and even so much easier to feel the love for a home with more funds or mad DIY skills, I think there is a middle ground for the rest of us on a budget of time and money – the art of creatively living with what you have. Whether you rent or own, you can love where you live and still keep your current priorities in order.



You can see photos in this post of some of my extremely simple "creative solutions" for loving my own imperfect home on a budget of time and money.  Sometimes it just takes a little creative touch to make something better than it was, even if it can't be perfect in this season of life. That is often my goal with a project, just to make it better than it was!



There are so many simple ways to fall more in love with your home when we can accept our limitations and make the best of what we have.



Living intentionally and creatively makes it possible to love your home no matter what kind of house you have or what your budget is!

Do you enjoy using what you have to creatively decorate and fix up your home?



Anticipation
Jul 31, 2012 01:10 am | Kelly Buddenhagen


       

          We worry about so many things, anticipate so much going wrong, blow into figurative paper bags about the what-may-happens that seem to clog up precious space in our lives.  We also smile, laugh, rejoice, and give thanks over the many beautiful and blessed moments that our Father God showers down on us.  What's the connection between both the sorrow and the joy?

Anticipation.

No, seriously.  Stay with me here.

Tomorrow, August 1, is my due date for our sweet Emmeline.  Now, I know that due dates aren't carved in stone, but I still seriously thought that our baby girl would be here by now.  A combination of my firstborn daughter Grace coming early and my secondborn little delight, Libby, also coming ahead of a calculator's schedule really made me believe that Emmeline would follow in her sisters sparkly shoes.  Couple this random mama logic with a naïve assumption that the string of July events would continue (my husband and I celebrate both our birthdays, our anniversary, and the birthday of one of our daughers) made us really believe that we'd be having another little highlighted box on this month's calendar.  August?  Really?  There was no way!

Oh yes, where there's a (baby's) will, there's a way!

What waiting for Emmeline has taught me is that when we anticipate an event, it usually doesn't work out how we imagine.  Sometimes that's rough knowledge when what we're expecting is being counted down to with joy and excitement, such as the birth of a baby, a wedding day, a vacation or even something as simple as $.99 iced coffees in the beginning of summer (holla!), but sometimes we're awaiting a situation that's been plaguing our hearts with worry and our minds with unease.  Our lives usually ride between the two extremes.  Again I beg the question, what do they have in common?  Anticipation, of the wonder of the good things coming upon us and the anxiety of the bad.



          But anticipation doesn't stand alone.  It has a wonderful, well-dressed girlfriend who  sometimes forgets to put on her heels so that we look right over her purdy little head. Her name?  We all know it.   Relief.  She's right there holding down the back.  Sometimes she's the calm breath of joy that we exhale after closing our eyes and basking in the warmth of a dream come true.  Sometimes she's squeezing our shoulders as we crumple into a heap, sobbing out our lifted pain along with rivers of praise.

Relief also comes from understanding that things are never as perfect or as terrible as we suppose. We don't have to fall so far or be buried so deep that we turn our eyes from the help – the promise of goodness – that comes from the Lord.  I really believed that our third daughter was going to come early and have been completely thrown off, but I've learned that it's another reminder from Jesus that things cannot go as planned.  Not the good things, nor the bad things.  And you know what?  I'm glad!  Before this summer is through I'll have another little darling to love and raise for Him, and I'll have received a deeper understanding of God's care for us, His children.  Sometimes we worry as we wait and sometimes we shake with enthusiasm, but both scenarios promise one thing – God is control, and nothing will ever be what we think it will.  We know that His plans for our good are even better than we could've expected, and His ways of remedying our sorrow are more powerful than we can ever anticipate.

By Kelly

[Judy Harder]

Sometimes Happily Ever After Doesn't Start Out the Way You Planned
Aug 01, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp




Most girls spend years dreaming of their wedding days. Or so the story goes. I dreamed about where I'd go to school and what I'd study. My big book of college profiles was worn and dogeared, a compass intended to point me in the right direction after high school graduation.

Just when I thought I'd figured it out—in May of my senior year with an acceptance letter from an Ivy League college in hand—I met the 17-year-old brother of a friend from a rival high school and everything changed.

I fell so hard and so fast that by August it was difficult to load up the U-Haul with my family and drive 1800 miles from home. From him. As much as I loved the school and the new friends made, nothing could overcome the constant ache in my heart. We became engaged the following March and married in October, in that New Hampshire town where he'd gone with me back to school and rented a basement apartment nearby.

Although I never doubted the man I chose, for years I'd sit in the pew at weddings and wonder if I missed something getting married in a school chapel, in a dress I bought off the rack in that college town, with the justice of the peace presiding and a school newspaper photographer.

Sometimes I'd begrudge the bride who'd return from her honeymoon to move into a new house. Our first four children were born before we owned an actual home of our own.

I'd forgotten that God specializes in conceiving great things from humble beginnings: a shepherd boy who would be king of Israel; a Jewish orphan who would become the queen of Persia and save her people; his own son, born in a manger inside a stable.

Whether your wedding was big and fancy, small and simple, or hasn't yet occurred, let me share these truths:

Your wedding isn't about the dress or the reception. It's about the man. The vows.

You marriage isn't about where you live or what you drive. It's about loving your husband (which is commanded of us, as an act of the will). Two becoming one flesh. Commitment.

Don't be ashamed of simple beginnings (or simple middles and endings, for that matter). Sometimes happily ever after doesn't start out in a way that you planned or could ever imagine. Pray for God's blessings upon your marriage " . . . and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." ~Hebrews 13:5

Do you have a story where God turned a simple beginning into so much more?

by Dawn Camp, who loves that same man just as fiercely 8 kids and nearly 27 years later

Download August's Desktop Calendar!

[Judy Harder]

You're the Only YOU We've Got
Aug 03, 2012 01:20 am | Holley Gerth


I walk through my house, thoughts swirling through my mind like the dust bunnies doing dances in front of my vacuum.

I think of other women who have cleaner houses.

Which leads to thoughts of other women who cook better meals.

And that goes on to other women who have cuter outfits, and are better at twitter, and can make small talk with ease.

I wish I could be like...is the refrain that goes round and round in my mind.

Finally I hit the power button on the vacuum, feeling drained myself.

I whisper a question, "God, why do I feel I need to be like so many other people?"

It seems there is an answer that comes so quiet...

Because the enemy would rather have you be like anyone but Jesus.

As we used to say in Junior High, um, duh.

If I'm busy trying to be like Mary, Martha and Margaret then I'm left with no time to be me. Or, more specifically, to let Jesus be who He is through me.

Each of us are made in the image of God. That means we're created to show Him to the world in a way no one else ever has and no one else ever will.

I do that by being who He made me.

And you do that by being you.

So listen, brave friends, let's decide together that we will stop trying to be like each other.

And instead be conformed to the one whose likeness we're made in.

I empty the vaccum into a bag, dust and clutter giving way to clean again. I smile because my heart suddenly feels like that too.

Comparison replaced by clarity–about who I am, what I'm called to do, and the God who's wild enough to choose me for His purposes.

And you.

And you.

And you.

All of us.

Just as we are–and unlike anyone else.

– Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing

[Judy Harder]

Around the Corner
Aug 02, 2012 01:10 am | Jan



"Sometimes," she confessed, "I don't want to go around the corner, even though God may have something good waiting for me."

I was at my church's women's retreat when a casual acquaintance shared this during a session break.

"Why not?" I asked, a bit incredulous, thinking that most people would run toward good stuff from the Creator of the universe.

"Because I don't know what's there," she replied. "And it scares me."

Looking at her life and the possibilities it held—young, beautiful SAHM, two wonderful children, a hardworking, attorney husband—I couldn't make sense of it. But I gave her a proper and polite, churchy-lady smile and nodded as though I did.

Then she turned the discussion toward me and asked the 'big question':

What are you wrestling with right now?

Um. Not much, really.

Marriage good.
Check.

Health good.
Check.

Career good.
Check.

Life, in general?

Um. Pretty good, I guess.

Sort of.
I mean, mostly.
No reason to complain really, except ...

I blurted:

"I feel lost. I'm going to turn 50 six months from today and I'm wondering if this is, like, 'the end.' Life is almost over for me and I've done nothing that means anything. Nothing at all."

The don't-I-look-and-feel-stupids moved in fast. Tears welled in my eyes. My face flushed posey-pink.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from," I stammered. "It's just that, well, I'm afraid there's nothing around the corner for me ..."

Yeesh.

I sounded like Dorothy when the Wizard empties the last from the little black bag and she—I mean, me—is left without.

She turned and squared her shoulders toward mine, her round, blue eyes smiling directly at me and said something about me still breathing and God not being done with me yet ... then she delivered the whammy:

What you're feeling is just preparation for what's around the corner.

Heart and soul.
Bone and marrow.
Pierced to the core.

A life-saving message from from God's soul to mine through her.

Preparation? Why, I hadn't thought of that!

Her words forced me into a cataclysmic decision to believe God's promise in Ephesians 2:10:

For we are His handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which He prepared in advance for us to do.

There is something around the corner for me; it's just that I'm not yet near enough to make the bend.

By: Jan O'Daniel, Amplifying Joy

Homemade Lemonade
Aug 02, 2012 04:00 am | Deidra




Through the window, I can see a steady stream of traffic on the highway. It's a mile away from where I sit, but this is Nebraska and there is rarely anything out here on The Great Plains to block your view, unless it's something you put there yourself. You'd think the traffic on the highway would be a nuisance, but it is strangely hypnotic and I have to discipline myself to keep from making up a story for every driver in every vehicle I see driving by.

Just outside the window, hanging above a white picket fence, two goldfinch land on the bird feeder. I can't hear them from where I sit barefoot at the kitchen table, but one of them is definitely the bossy one. The bossy bird perches herself up above the other one and arches her body downward while she keeps a tight grip on the perch. She gets all up in the face of the other bird and squawks – her pointy beak just millimeters from the bird below her. I watch the little bird on the perch below and I don't see a feather ruffle. Cool bird.

I pour myself another glass of lemonade and look across the table at my friend. She is smart and talented in a Proverbs 31  way, but it doesn't make me feel like I belong on a perch beneath her. She makes me wish I lived in the house next door instead of an hour's drive north on that highway I can see outside her kitchen window. She talks about God and He makes her eyes light up. I want some of what she has, and I don't just mean her recipe for homemade lemonade.

"I'm so glad you wore shorts," she'd said when she answered the door. No fanciness. No pretense. Just a warm welcome of me, exactly as I was. Exactly as I am.


It wasn't long before I'd kicked off my shoes, too. Now, I sat barefoot at the kitchen table, drinking homemade lemonade, the gleeful recipient of the gift of hospitality.

It is a gift.

I'm often on the other side of this picture. "I love having people in my house," I say. I love the cooking and the welcoming and the serving and creating space for someone else to catch their breath. And sometimes, I forget the gift goes both ways.

How about you? Are you usually on the giving side of hospitality, or the receiving side? And also? Do you have a killer lemonade recipe?

Post by Deidra, Jumping Tandem.

Image by Nick Harris.