(IN)Courage

Judy Harder · September 08, 2012, 09:32:50 AM

Community Brings Hope
Sep 08, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth

This past August, my husband and I celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary. During those thirteen years, we have lived in eleven different homes, in nine different cities, in seven different states, and in three different geographic regions of the U.S.

We moved. A lot.

We're hoping this nomadic lifestyle will soon come to an end, because moving that often is tough ... wear-down-the-soul tough.

The packing and unpacking are disorientating at best.

Saying goodbye hurts.

Helping your children say goodbye cuts deeper still as you kiss their red cheeks stained salty from tears.

Loading a moving van and driving it across several states with two small children in tow exhausts mind and body.

Adjusting to a new environment — navigating your way around town, finding new medical professionals, meeting with your kids' new principal,etc. — is weary-making at its finest.

Each move brought chaos, frustration, disappointment and tears.

With each move, we also uncovered joy, new mercies and hope immeasurable.

Community acted as an agent of hope every. single. time.

Everywhere we lived, the Lord blessed us with friends who became family (and some actually do share our blood). Sometimes making those friendships came easily and other times we had to work hard at bonding with people. But they were present, always. And yeah, it made moving harder ... but it made it easier too.

Our communities brought us hope both in ways we could touch and in ways we could only feel:

They helped us pack, clean, load the truck, take care of our kids, haul broken-down furniture to the dump.

My heart sisters sought out opportunities to ease my burdens and lift my spirits via sweet cards, humorous texts and unexpected gifts.

They cried with me, listened to me, encouraged me and prayed with me.

They also lent me strength, spoke truth and hugged me so tight that for seconds, no air stirred inside me.

And while every whispered "I hope I'll see you again" tugged the chords of my tender heart it also rang sweet in my ears.

Hope.

Hope for keeping bonds cemented.

Hope for healing hearts.

Hope for bright new beginnings.

It is true that Jesus is the only true source of that hope, but I am convinced that He uses community to help us embrace it.

Judy Harder · September 09, 2012, 12:26:54 PM

A Sunday Scripture
Sep 09, 2012 01:20 am | incourage

Praise awaits you, our God, in Zion;
to you our vows will be fulfilled.
You who answer prayer,
to you all people will come.
When we were overwhelmed by sins,
you forgaveour transgressions.
Blessed are those you choose
and bring near to live in your courts!
We are filled with the good things of your house,
of your holy temple.

You answer us with awesome and righteous deeds,
God our Savior,
the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas,
who formed the mountains by your power,
having armed yourself with strength,
who stilled the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
and the turmoil of the nations.
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
where morning dawns, where evening fades,
you call forth songs of joy.

Psalm 65: 1-8

Judy Harder · September 10, 2012, 08:52:28 AM

Out of Sight, Out of Hope?
Sep 10, 2012 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant

I store people.

I don't house them in cardboard boxes in my guest closet, but in tiny compartments of my heart.

They aren't allowed to change or escape from the time I duct taped them inside and labeled them with my sharpie.

For some reason I believe each person stays as they were the last time I saw them {or I experienced an expression of one of their issues.}

If I was frustrated with you, I'm certain that you're still the same as those late night conversations in college when you wouldn't listen to reason. If you were wild in high school, I'm positive that you've spiraled out of control since then. If you left me out or said something hateful to me, then I assume you're still as prickly as ever.

I stop hoping on your behalf. {And I'm definitely not praying for you.}

Part of me believes you haven't or can't change.

Trying to protect myself, I put a lid on what God can do in your life.

_______________________________

It was a moment over coffee, sixteen years after graduation. I was anxious to hear about where my friend was now. What transpired was a beautiful encouragement of God miraculously moving and healing. I was in awe of who Jesus had re-birthed this person to be.

"Wow! I would have never imagined what God would do!" My mind was giddy with my friend's redemptive story as I told my husband about our conversation.

Conviction quickly ensued. The Spirit reminded me of those I have written off or stored in a place that I can't be worried, annoyed or hurt by.

A Holy whisper to the deep corners of my heart "Isn't what you're doing a way of not forgiving for the hard times they've been through? Or how they acted when I wasn't at the center of their lives? Or for a moment of their crazy you witnessed?"

Then Jesus flung open the door to my heart storage, and with flashlight in hand, He pealed back the tape. The transformed were brought into the light for me to see. And I was reminded, again, that He can breathe new life into dead bones.

A short conversation over coffee showed me in vivid color Jesus is limitless. He doesn't work in a transformation timeline like we'd prefer. He doesn't always renew the hurt and lost before our eyes. And sometimes there isn't a completed circle this side of heaven.

Every now and then He reveals what He does when we're not looking, in the places that are dark and we'd rather not feel again. He gives us hope for the others that are still wandering with a story of redeemed life.

Jesus reminds us to expect the transformation and keep on loving.

{Maybe you're not like me and continue to hope and journey in Spirit with those from your past. But if you can relate to this revelation, will you open up one of your tiny storage boxes and pray for that person that God brings to mind?}

Judy Harder · September 11, 2012, 10:16:57 AM

The Tent
Sep 11, 2012 01:10 am | Brooke Caldwell

The clouds couldn't sleep.

All night, they tossed about fitfully,

Gray shadows churning against a black, starless sky.

An unnamed sadness weighed heavily,

Until the clouds leaned into dawn's faint light,

Releasing a downpour of tears.

I woke to the sound of pounding rain overhead,

The sky's sorrow demanded notice.

My heartbeat quickened, my eyes opened full and wide.

I began patting the ground around me,

Reaching down and feeling my feet.

Dry.

Everywhere.

Dry.

Mind still muddled by sleep's reluctant grasp,

I patted the circle of ground around me again.

Still dry.

How is it that a thin sheet of nylon,

Can act as a strong roof, four walls, and secure ground?

How is that possible?

The clouds begged me to join their distress,

To worry, to fret, to cry.

How could everything be okay amidst a storm like this?

But it was.

I let my feet push to the bottom of the sleeping bag,

Dry and warm.

I listened to the pounding drops overhead,

And I said, "Thank you."

Thank you, God, that your provision for me,

Is not too thin,

Or too weak.

Thank you, God, that your covering over me,

Is strong,

And enough.

Even when I can't understand how that works out,

I will lie down and sleep in peace,

Free from doubt, worry, and tears.

I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. – Psalm 4:8

Judy Harder · September 12, 2012, 08:47:07 AM

Parts Of Me I Like To Hide: 8 Ways To Come Out of Hiding
Sep 12, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray

"The parts of me I usually like to hide are the very parts where God is working through my life and my story."

That's what I said earlier this year, when I was asked to look into the (in)RL camera and answer how community has hurt me and how it's healed me.

I took a deep breath and started talking about how I'd been afraid to open up about bad things that happened to me out in the mission field when I was in my twenties.

I was afraid because when I returned to confide in people — people who were used to the bubbly Bonnie didn't know what to do with the broken Bonnie — the Bonnie who was hurt and confused.

Silence only meant one thing to me.

Rejection.

I resolved to let time do its healing work.

So, I went into hiding. For nearly a decade.

Parts of Me
I returned to doing the normal things I'd always done — routine and predictability. I started getting busy again, exploring next steps, to prove to myself that I had moved on.

Slowly, it seemed everyone seemed comfortable with me again. No awkwardness, no hard questions. Just smiles set out like a welcome sign to tell everyone, "Hey, I'm back."

But, inside. Not all of me was back.

Parts of me had gone into hiding — the ones most in need of community.

Inside, I struggled with fears, insecurities and disappointment. I felt tired and alone.

God eventually led me to a new community of believers who loved me as an everyday person. Because I felt accepted and valued for my everyday struggles, I began feeling hopeful. As people shared their everyday struggles with me, I began to feel safe.

Maybe they'll love me for my broken parts too? I wondered.

Many years of isolating myself in pain, brought me to a place where I no longer wanted to suffer alone. I'd rather risk hurting, than living more years feeling trapped by hurtful memories.

I encouraged the friends who were watching the (in)RL video that it's worth coming out of hiding. Because for all the people who had hurt me, God brought a new set of friends who met me on my journey — to bring healing to my soul.

I Would Not Allow Myself
Little did I know while filming that video clip — I would personally face the challenge to stop hiding and open myself into community in a big way again. Less than one year later.

Hide.

That was my default reaction to experiencing panic attacks for the first time in my life. But, after a month of continuous panic attacks and growing anxiety, I knew — without a shadow of a doubt — that I would not allow myself to hide for another ten years.

I told myself, even if I were to get rejected again — utterly rejected — I'd have to fall back on my training. My faith community training.

Do not hide.

Whatever you do, Bonnie.

Do not hide.

I wasn't going to lose ten more years of being alone.

I knew community healed me before — and I knew community would be key to my healing again. I don't say this lightly, because there is great risk in being hurt.

But, then I think: Jesus Himself needed community. Jesus confided in three confidantes (Peter, James, and John) as He broke down in His darkest night in Gethsemane. The need to relate is part of our humanity and spirituality.

8 Ways
I'm still learning this come-out-of-hiding journey, but I'd like to share 8 ways I encouraged myself to come out of hiding and open myself up to community. I hope it gives you comfort knowing you are not alone and encourage you to know you can do it, too.

1. Don't wait until you're all better before you reach out to find a friend.

Reach out now, while you're broken — and find the people who can truly be your friend. Now is the time to get the support you need.

In some cases, I asked for specific help or advice. For others, I just wanted the support. This is the jist of what I've said, "I'm going through a hard time right now. I'd like to confide in you about it, so I'm not alone in it. It's not something I need solved. But, to make this journey, I need to know someone knows and someone cares. "

This helps communicate to the other person I needed the safety rather than advice or problem solving (unless that is what you need). Because when you are overwhelmed, it's important to have the safety to feel and talk things through.

2. Assume there will be "sunk costs" in this investment in community.

I'm just keeping it real friends. There are people who have not walked this journey of transparency. Difficult emotions make them feel uncomfortable with their own anxieties and it can stress them out. So, don't take it personally if you try to make a connection and the conversation doesn't work out. Understand this person isn't the right match for this season of your journey.

Early on, I had confided to someone who said my anxieties were caused by my failure to trust God — which then plummeted me into a tailspin of discouragement. But, I kept reaching out until I found someone who could encourage me. It turns out I found great comfort in a friend I'd known for a decade, who I never knew she experienced panic attacks — until after I confided in her.

3. View opening up as an act of trust in God rather than a test of someone's acceptance of you.

Finding a friend is another way of trusting God in the journey. You're going to need someone to walk this path with you. When Jesus sent out the disciples out in ministry, He sent them two by two. The new commandment Jesus gives us is to, "Love one another, as I have loved you."

This love commandment is reciprocal, too. Jesus wants you to receive love and He will send someone to love you on His behalf. Seek and we shall find.

4. Create a list of people to confide in. Start with the most compassionate person you know and slowly challenge yourself to move down your list — as you progress further along your journey — adjusting how much you share with your comfort level.

Many of you belong to a lot of wonderful support communities (like Celebrate Recovery, AA, ...), so please share them with us in the comments.

For me, here is the list I moved down. Your list will vary, so custom-fit per your need and circumstance:

1. My best friend. My husband.

2. The most compassionate person who has known me the longest.

3. The most compassionate person who I confided in during the last crisis.

4. The pastor who mentored me.

5. The pastor who married me and Eric.

6. The pastor of my new church. (I was definitely stepping out on a limb at this point (how would he view me?). But, our conversation helped confirm that authenticity was valued in this faith community.)

7. A few closest girlfriends.

8. A Christian counselor/therapist (This was the first time I tried this. It's hard to find the right one! Another post for another day...)

9. A few colleagues.

10. A new friend I met at my new church.

11. Readers on my blog.

5. Say no — and share honestly why you can't.

This one is hard for me, especially if I feel like I should do something or be somewhere. I feel if I don't say yes, I've let other people down or I feel guilty because I've failed in some way.

One way of being open in community is honestly letting others into our world: our needs, our limitations — as well as our passion, what we value and what our current priorities are, even if they differ from others.

6. Say yes — and share honestly where you're at.

There are times God plops a wonderful opportunity in our laps — to invite us to try something new, something we really want to attempt — but are lacking confidence to commit. Give yourself permission to say yes — and share honestly the questions or hesitations you have.

You will be able to find others who identify with you — gain a friend and encourage each other through these conversations.

7. Ask others about their stories. Really listen and be present.

This is a beautiful part of community that never fails to melt my heart when I'm frozen in isolation. When we take interest in others' stories, we give them permission to invite us to the tender places. We offer others acceptance — and we receive the gift of transparency. We gain courage to be present with others and open up about our own journey in return.

8. Choose to believe God is at work in your story. He's living in you to come alongside others to live theirs.

Last, but not least, coming out of hiding is really a question of faith. If Jesus was working in me when life was good, was He still at work in me when life feels bad? Opening up to others when we are in the middle of our stories invites others to join us on the journey.

Because the truth is, there will always be parts of us God is loving us back to life.

We are all living stories being written.

We can help encourage each other while the ink is still drying.

We don't have to reject ourselves or each other.

We can step out in the open and speak fully.

We can embrace the beautiful real stories we are living, instead of hiding behind the lonely stories we wish we were living.

"Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus' sake,
which makes Jesus' life all the more evident in us.

While we're going through the worst,
you're getting in on the best!"
2 Cor. 4:7-12 (The Message)

~~~~~

What are ways you stop hiding and open up in community?

What holds you back?

Pull up a chair. Click to share a comment. Let's do a little community right here. Add to your words of wisdom to the list.

~~~~~

By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.

** Psst... A special word of gratitude goes out to the people and readers who were there for me when I opened up about my journey through PTSD — who continue to be there for me now. Your love and encouragement made this post possible. I expected rejection. Instead, you chose to step out to stand beside me in the messy, sharing your stories. In doing so, you've changed my story by calling me friend.

Judy Harder · September 13, 2012, 10:00:32 AM

I Have Walls A Million Miles Thick
Sep 13, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae

I read this book called, The Cure.

It opened me wide and took me back to the gospel; it's taking me back to how desperate I am for friends.

For community.

For real, vulnerable, come-as-you-are community. I want that. I need it. I'm asking God for it.

I watched 500 Days of Summer and there was a scene of a few co-workers/friends in a bar talking and laughing and singing karaoke and I yearned for that. For the fun and the real; the laughter. It wasn't about the bar or the drinking, it was about the connection these friends had.

In The Cure the authors talk about living mask free, being authentic with all our ugly. Not that we boast in the ugly or want the ugly, but that we don't hide the ugly away pretending it doesn't exist. It is so easy to tuck away the sin; the things we are ashamed about. The secrets that haunt us at night as we're falling asleep. When we keep it in the dark, it's power over us grows. But when we expose it to the light, and we let people into our ugly, and we trust people (even when it aches), sin loses it's power. We let people love us. Grace-light banishes the dark.

And we can be free.

I want that kind of freedom with friends, with community.

So here's a secret, my friends, my community. I struggle with intimacy. I have walls a million miles thick with my husband. Even kissing is hard; sometimes kissing is the hardest. When oneness is supposed to be beautiful and filling, I struggle with feeling dirty. Sometimes I want to scream, and sometimes I just cry quietly. Sometimes I'm okay, and love is good, but other times it chokes me.

In order to be intimate I need to escape myself, put myself in other places in my mind. I have to go away and become something else; I am replaced. It's how I cope, sometimes.

But I'm in counseling, and I've talked to God about it and He knows I can't fix me. I'm undone. But He weaves together, and I trust Him in this darkness because He is light.

I'm open wide and I like it because I can feel the breeze. I won't stay locked up in the dark, and I won't hide. I'll let the Holy Spirit blow through this woman and do the work.

By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com

Who Can You Encourage Today?
Sep 13, 2012 01:05 am | Mary Carver

Last week my church finished up a series about our "blind spots." For four weeks the pastors had spoken about the people we tend to miss when we look around, the people we forget about, the people who just might need our love most of all. The pastor suggested we channel a little Sherlock Holmes as we go about our day to figure out who might need an extra smile or word of encouragement.

If you use a little deductive reasoning (or is it actually "inductive reasoning"? I could never keep those two straight.), you might start noticing that you encounter lots of people who are desperate for a kind word or listening ear.

You can share encouragement in so many ways:

Smiling at the grumpy cashier.
Looking your kids in the eyes and asking how their day went – and then listening.
Thanking your husband for grilling dinner or putting in another long day at work.
Giving your waitress a generous tip, even if she didn't keep your glass filled to the brim.
Buying Starbucks for your assistant or your boss or your children's teacher.
Telling the janitor or trash man or landscaper that you appreciate his work.
Sending your parents a letter or calling them just to say hello.
Holding open the door.
Raking your neighbors' leaves or shoveling their sidewalk.

Or – sending a card with a thoughtful word, a kind sentiment, a piece of encouragement.

I love the card selection at DaySpring. You can find beautiful cards for just about any occasion or need. Whether you need a thinking of you card, a sympathy card, a you can do it card, an I love you card, a you're my favorite person card or a get well soon card – DaySpring has you covered.

Is it possible that you know a person – or several people – who could use some encouragement? Whose day would be made by hearing that you think they're great? Whose life might be changed by a reminder that you believe in them?

Who can you encourage today?

If you're sharing an (in)spired deals story post this month, link up below!

Judy Harder · September 14, 2012, 08:55:33 AM

Making Friends with Imperfect People {Link Up Your Stories and Win!}
Sep 14, 2012 03:01 am | Tsh Oxenreider

I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression back in 2007. We had moved to the Middle East about four months prior, and needless to say, I wasn't doing well. I got pregnant about two months after our arrival, had a two-year-old to care for in a land where I couldn't speak like one, and doing the most basic of tasks was a major feat.

My instinctive reaction was to retreat into our fifth-floor high-rise apartment and never submerge myself in the culture. As someone who needs daily sunshine and exercise to feel well, I'd hole up for days at a time so that I didn't need to face the reality of life as a foreigner.

I barely knew anybody there except my husband and toddler, and eventually, it was all I could do to get out of bed and brush my teeth. I knew something was wrong when I finally admitted to myself that I didn't want to be there—this goal of living abroad and working for a nonprofit, this objective we crafted our previous stateside life around—was a dead thing to me. It meant nothing.

We invited Kyle's bosses over to dinner, and told them our suspicion of depression. Lovely, wise souls that they are, they immediately encouraged us to find help and an official diagnosis, and to do everything we needed to be well. They released us with blessing, and I'm so glad they did.

I'll spare you the gory details, but a few weeks later in central Asia I was diagnosed with "severe" depression (I had eight of all eight possible symptoms), and we were sent to southeast Asia to find help. (There's a clinic there for nonprofit workers who live abroad.)

I found medication that helped and we talked with a therapist for EIGHT solid weeks, and throughout all those hours on the couch that summer in tropical Asia, one word of wisdom resonates in my mind five years later more than any other:

It's worth it to meet a girlfriend over coffee, even if it's hard. And it's worth it to have people over for dinner, even if I don't feel like it.

Our therapist—let's call him "Roger," shall we, because that was his name—called all this a "partial solution." See, he listened to me bemoan how hard life was in the Middle East, and that I didn't really have any friends because in a city of four million people and no car, it took too long to get out of the house just to meet a girlfriend for two hours.

He countered with this: yes, life is hard. Yes, we've signed up for a strange lifestyle where we've said no to most of our creature comforts. But to say "no" because things aren't exactly how I want them is prideful and unrealistic, and that writing off almost-not-quite was to wave the white flag instead of embracing God's gifts as surprising.

So he asked me to look at my lifestyle as full of partial solutions. Yes, it would take two hours one-way to go meet a friend for coffee, then two hours back. For a total of at least six hours, just to have coffee. It wasn't ideal, but it was a partial solution—taking all afternoon to make a friend was better than making no friends at all.

And yes, having people over for dinner might mean making some cultural faux pas, or nothing turning out right because I'd have to substitute half the ingredients for my American recipes. But it's worth vulnerably putting myself out there, because the trade-off is community and friendships for the whole family. A partial solution might lead to community.

Roger's wise words still rattle around in my head all the time, as we've since moved twice more and become the new people again and again. It's scary to make that phone call and ask a new friend for coffee, and it's uncomfortable to have a new family over for dinner when your house isn't just how you want it.

But it's worth it. It might not be your best friend from college, so yes, it's a partial solution—but it's better than the alternative. It, too, is a partial solution when you go ahead and invite potential friends for dinner, even if your armchair doesn't match your couch—if you wait for perfection, you'll never jump into community.

Life is full of non-stop partial solutions. It feels good and freeing to label a situation as such, because you're admitting that it's not quite how you'd have it if you were God, but that it's okay, because you're not Him.

Don't wait for perfection. If you do, you'll never take a chance on community.

Back in the Middle East, I started meeting women friends for coffee every other week, and we'd have friends over for dinner weekly. A simple coffee date took an entire afternoon, and preparing for company filled an entire day. Partial solutions. But it was a game-changer, because we met some of our favorite people to this day, and I haven't been on depression medication for more than two years.

Vitamin D, exercise, and.... making friends with imperfect people. They'll cure almost anything.

What are your partial solutions in life right now? How are you embracing them so that you're thanking God for His unexpected blessings instead of wishing they were different?

How are you coming out of hiding and connecting with community?
(in)RL GIVEAWAY: Won't you share in the comments or link up your stories below? We'd love to hear your heart as we all "check-in" on how we're doing with this whole bravely connecting with community thing.

And we'd love to give one of you who shares our beautiful (in)RL T Shirt a reminder to wear community on our sleeves.

—>snag yours over here – they're on sale for half off – only $8.49 right now

By Tsh, Simple Mom

Chapter 3: Possessions- Link Up!
Sep 14, 2012 01:10 am | incourage

If Chapter 3 of 7 by Jen Hatmaker spoke to you in any way, we want to know about it! The Nester shared with us this week how her stuff has affected her life. And Kylie is sharing a bit below on how this chapter changed her outlook on possessions. Click on over to her blog to read the full story! We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!

Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Kylie @ Bus Driver}
Why was this giving away of possessions so hard? I knew the truth. I knew what scripture said about the giving to the poor, of feeding the hungry and clothing the naked. I knew it meant loving Jesus to do unto the least of these. And I do love Him. So very much! Why the tension?! "This is just stuff", I'd say as I cried and filled another bin of baby clothes to give away. But the Holy Spirit had ahold and was not letting go. "This is just stuff," He'd reply, "and you're enslaved to your stuff." OUCH.It was then I learned that terms like sacrifice, rich, poor, excess... were all matters of my heart. I didn't think I had much by American suburban life standards (gag me.) But my heart was wound tightly around what I did have. I remembered a night more than a year ago when I was reading to my kids before bed and the line from Matthew 13:44 read, "then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field." I knew it meant something for me when I couldn't shake it for days. Suddenly the pieces fit together.
click here to continue reading...

Judy Harder · September 15, 2012, 08:48:29 AM

Seeing With My Heart
Sep 15, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer

I am a shy and quiet person by nature. I am not one to just start talking to a stranger. I am not one to initiate conversations. I am not one to initiate activities. So when my husband and I moved to a home in the country, I liked the idea. We lived a few miles outside of a small town.

We did not jump into the small town life right away. We shopped and bought our groceries and went to church in a nearby 'city'. People didn't know us, people didn't keep up with us. I thought that is how I would like it.

Then we started to ease into the small town life and atmosphere. We decided to embrace the life we were part of. We started getting groceries at the small grocery store, going to church in our town, and eating occasionally at the local café. It was wonderful. We were welcomed with open arms.

I guess I had forgotten how nice a small community can be.

You know the type of town where everybody knows your name and asks how you are. Where the owner of the small grocery store helps you carry your groceries to the car. Where people are genuinely happy to see you at church. Where your neighbor notices a tree fell down in your yard and offers to help cut it up and move it away. Where the neighbor with a tractor comes by to scoop the driveway after a big snowstorm.

The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7

That's what it was, that was it... I needed to start seeing how God sees.

I need to start seeing with my heart and not my head. My head reminds me I'm shy and I won't know what to say and what if they don't like me. My heart says these people are put in my life by God. They are a gift from Him to me. They are a way for me to see and feel His love here on earth. They are a way for me to share the love of God here on earth.

If I wouldn't open myself up and open my heart up to my community, I would miss these wonderful people. I would miss out on what I can learn from them. I would miss the love they share. I would miss the opportunity to grow.

For we live by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7

It can feel risky to open yourself up to people you don't know. It is hard to be vulnerable and it certainly takes courage. It takes stepping out in faith. But I think it is worth the risk, don't you?

Have you had an experience where seeing with your heart was more important than seeing with your head? Have you had a time where seeing with your heart made all the difference? We would love to hear!

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

Judy Harder · September 16, 2012, 12:15:26 PM

A Sunday Scripture
Sep 16, 2012 01:20 am | incourage

All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because,

"God opposes the proud

but gives grace to the humble."

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

1 Peter 5:5-6

Judy Harder · September 17, 2012, 09:17:02 AM

On Giving Grace. And Then Giving Grace Again.
Sep 17, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne

This isn't something we like to talk about, but I have to ask you anyway. Let's grab a blanket and sit on the grass and scoot in close. Let the breeze bring in honesty and gentleness and let's be real.

Do you ever look around and feel like you don't fit in with your faith community?
Do you sometimes wonder why the scorecard of your Christian life has more scars than it does love?

This whole business of *being* the Body of Christ – it's not for the faint of heart, is it? It's not only for when we agree with our brothers and sisters, or only for when no one is hurting us and everything is honkey dorey. It's not just for happy times, but also the struggles. The ugly times, too. The times when we want to be anything BUT family.

I don't know about you, but sometimes that is hard for me to swallow.

I've had my share of hurts from the Body. People proclaiming Christ one minute and then lashing out with selfishness, done in His name, no less. I've witnessed the Body hurt others from afar, too, and cringed and cried at what is done to His name. The character of God being painted with a brush that I never agreed to.

But.

But they are my spiritual family. But they are His people. But he loves THEM, too.

Do I still love them? Do I give grace, and then give grace again? And again?

Don't get me wrong, I don't think giving grace and loving means agreeing all the time. I don't believe it means staying quiet or not standing up for my convictions.

But it does mean that the disagreeing, the speaking up, the standing up — it's all done with grace and love. Truly, in our hearts, loving people.

Can you do it? Can you open up a hand first, give that grace, and usher in forgiveness?

Let's take the hurt, let's have it not be in the way, let's allow grace to balm the wounds.

Let's let it go. Together.

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