(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Where To Look When You Can't Find God
Mar 26, 2013 01:10 am | Jennifer Mays




Time has been a gracious friend to my grandmother. Generous and forgiving, it has given her much and asked for little in return.  Her age is nothing more to her than an adornment, and she wears it like a strand of family heirloom pearls, with the grace and charm of the true Southern lady that she is.  The passing of time has served only to make her more beautiful, and she has become the irreplaceable jewel of our family.

I came through the back door of her house that afternoon thinking of this passing of time – how it sneaks in unseen and sends the days tumbling, rolling them together into months that stretch out to the horizon of a life in the blink of an eye.  I knew it had been too long since my last visit.

She was standing there at the stove, hovering over a pot steaming with the promise of comfort, and spooning up the memories of my childhood.  She turned to me then, and her eyes lit up as she offered me her generous smile, one of her sweetest gifts. And she laughed for the sake of joy, wrapping me in arms that had raised up four daughters and six grandchildren, and still were able to lift the fair haired toddler behind me.

My grandmother's laugh is wonderfully infectious, so we laugh together just from the joy of our embrace, and in her arms I am a child again.  Her voice is soft and sweet as she whispers her promise that she'll never let anything happen to me, that I am her love and her littlest angel.  She holds me there, the woman I am now, the wife, the mother, her granddaughter, and she smoothes my hair and strokes my back and I think of what she's just said, about how she loves me.  And it comes to me then...the revelation for which I had searched, the answer to the question I had asked of God as He and I had walked together over the years.

I had so often wondered where God had been during the troubled years of my childhood, when the burdens were almost too much for me to bear and the hefty weight of adult problems were laid upon my shoulders at too young of an age.  When the foundation of my youth had crumpled beneath me and lay in the collapse of my parent's marriage.  When money was scarce and worries were abundant.  When the sharp tongue of middle school girls sliced through the thin layer of my self-esteem, leaving fresh wounds and a broken heart.  Surely God had been with me, but I had turned over the memories of my youth and I couldn't find him.

I found my answer that very day, as my grandmother's arms circled around me and my head rested against her.  In the painful days of my childhood, the voice of God bore the rich southern drawl of the Mississippi Delta as He spoke words of love and encouragement, and planted the seeds of hope and faith.  He bound up my broken heart with hands that were soft and warm, with fingers knotted from arthritis.  He gently wiped my tears and held my face in His hands, and His gaze was filled with love and acceptance as He looked upon me through eyes creased with 60 years of laughter and burdens.  He lifted me up and held me close as He whispered His promise that He would never let anything happen to me, that I was His love and His littlest angel.

The warmth of remembrance covered me like a thick quilt, and I felt God's hand upon me smoothing my hair and stroking my back.  My soul filled with thanksgiving for the God who has never forsaken me, and His grace flooded my memories, washing over them and filling up the empty places.  My eyes filled with tears as I drew back to gaze on the loveliness of this woman, the vessel through which God had comforted me.  And in her face I saw it – a glimpse of God Himself.



By Jennifer Mays, At Jesus' Feet

[Judy Harder]

Beyond Locked Doors: Jesus, Where I Can Hide?
Mar 27, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray





"Before the river runs away, I find the shelter in Your Name.  Jesus."
~ Fernando Ortega in "Sleepless Night"

I remember what if felt like to be a little girl.

Sitting at the table of my desk.

Writing hard into the pages of my journal.

Because there was no other place for me to be.

No other place to hear my thoughts and seek some sort of answer in the silence.  My heart poured out in ink — like the first waters of spring trickling down through moss, rock, and dirt as you walk by and notice the trail is suddenly moist and soft.

I know now, that the door that closed me in the darkness of my bedroom wasn't the only door that shut me into my aloneness.

The door of my heart was where I hid behind, where I placed all my anxious thoughts and concealed them deep within.

So, that I could step out into this world with brightness, to smile, explore and find my way.

I needed a place to put away the things that felt childish, needy, and wanting.

I was ready to grow up, to find my place in this world.

I believed that was where Jesus wanted me.

Out there, somewhere, I believed Jesus was calling me –

to leave who I was,

so I could become who He wanted me to be.

But, now I'm hearing a different Voice speaking beside me.

Before The Red Sun Rises
I'm still here, Bonnie.

I haven't left you alone.

I remember you.

His voice is very still.

Very quiet.

But, I know it is Him.

Because I feel my heart flutter an aching dip — deep in a place where only His voice can reach.

My lips begin to quiver and I say His name.

Jesus.

I close my eyes, and a sleepless night clings to me yet again.

Long before the red sun rises.*

Even though Easter is this very week.

I feel the guilt of how I am not feeling the freedom that I know is wholly mine.

Jesus.

Don't let me hide any longer.

Jesus.

Help me find my full voice.  I'm so afraid.

Because it is hidden behind closed doors.

Life On The Other Side
I get up, bare feet cold against the kitchen floor. I warm up a bowl of soup.

I sip and sit, the steam rising from my spoon, illuminated by the low lights turned on over the sink.

I begin to type, journaling onto a glowing screen, as I don't know what else to do.

And as I do, I feel so very lonely there in the dark.

And in that very moment, when I'm slipping into the rush of my worries, a thought takes me to a scene with the disciples.

They are locked in room.

They cannot sleep either.

Unable to fathom what life would look like on the other side of the door.

They are afraid.

Feeling trapped.

Guilty.

At a loss for words.

Yet, their hearts and minds were overrun by questions of  now-what, what-if, how, when, who and why.

But, still, there is no easy way out.

Even though Peter and John had both seen the linens discarded in the tomb.  They too had retreated behind closed doors.

Without clarity.

They've never gone this way before.

They were so sure, so confident of the way Jesus was leading them.

Now, uncertainty is all that seems to consumes them.

So unexpected.

So all alone.

How Jesus Comes
This is how He comes to them.

Jesus comes to them — not just behind closed doors.

The doors were locked.

This is how I imagine Jesus came and quietly stood beside them.

With eyes of compassion and a heart bursting to touch them, Jesus whispers — "Peace to you!"

And what was the first thing Jesus does?

Jesus shows them his hands and his side.

Jesus shows them his wounds.

I don't know why I did what I did next, exactly.  But, I felt moved to get off my chair.

I knelt on the floor.

With the taste of soup still swimming in my mouth, I press my face into the palms of my hands.

And I begin to cry.

I imagine Jesus right there in front of me.

Bending, crouching over me.

As I show him my wounds.

And I cry and I cry, as waves of memory upon memory push through my heart.

Each time I'd stop because I wanted to go back to hiding my heart, I'd picture Jesus again.

Showing me his wounds.

On His hands.

And His side.

And the tears would begin again.

Because I would remember what I've forgotten –

how much I longed for the touch of His hands on mine,

how much I'd give anything to be pressed into His side,

so I could feel the weight of His robes and His arms around me then.

Where We Can Hide
After some time there, I needed to get up and find the Kleenex.

I know Jesus came to me that night, as He once did 2,000 years ago.

And I am so grateful.

Because He continues to come to me now.

Even through locked doors.

Jesus knows how to enter.  Even if I don't.

Jesus is the name I can call on.

Jesus is my hope through the storm.

Jesus. 

He is the shelter — where I can hide.

And you can too.



"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together,
with the doors locked for fear...
Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you!"'
After he said this, he showed them his hands and side."
~ John 20:19-20a

~~~~~

How is Jesus coming to you this Easter?

Where are you when you call on His Name?

Where is that you hide — when you think the door is closed — and Jesus comes to you?

Is it a song, a place, a time or are you walking, writing, painting or singing?

Pull up a chair. Click to comment.    Take a moment to share.  In doing so, Jesus comes alive.

Easter in us — in me and in you.  Jesus in us.  Right here.  Right now. 

~~~~~

* A lyric taken from "Sleepless Night" by Fernando Ortega.  Click to listen.

By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie and faith friends on her blog, Faith Barista , as she continues her journey through post-traumatic stress, as they travel the journey of faith together, swapping stories one moment at a time.

[Judy Harder]

On Seeing the Good in Good Friday
Mar 29, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne




For so many years I wondered why Good Friday was named as such. I couldn't really wrap my brain around what was so good about it. I felt terrible every single time I would see a Cross re-enactment play. I would make it so real in my mind, and it was so hard to watch. I would sob seeing Jesus go through what he went through. I kept asking myself: Why were we calling the death of Jesus "good"?

Growing up I attended various Good Friday church services where the mood was so very solemn. Sad, mournful and full of regret, I would walk with my head down to my seat in the pew. And I get that sentiment, I really do. I understand the sacrifice was because of (my) sin. I've been taught all the horrible things Jesus had to endure before his death.

But I don't hang my head anymore. Now I know why Good Friday is so very, very good.

From the beginning of time, God knew what was going to happen. He prepared a way. He poured himself into flesh as the solution for all of it. We know all this already, right?

But what I think is sometimes missing from the Good Friday services, is that one simple phrase:

"It is finished."

When Jesus became the atonement, it was all done. All that was yet left undone, became done. His death was the trigger, the catalyst, for these cataclysmic events to come. The resurrection, pentecost, the Lord's return. Once that death happened, everything else was done in God's eyes. It began our call to Kingdom and to looking forward.

He wanted us to look ahead to his resurrection. He wanted us to look ahead to his return. He made it all complete, and there was no need to feel incomplete ever again.

Death no longer has victory over our souls, because it is finished.
Sin no longer is what we are painted with when God looks at us, because it is finished.
I don't have to walk in shame or feel anything but a daughter of the Most High God, because it is finished.
You who walk in the shadows, come forth, because it is finished. The Enemy may try to influence me and you, to sway us, but he can never win. Never.

I don't feel sad on Good Friday anymore. I humbly receive the Lord's gift with gratitude, stand looking high in awe and wonder. At the deep meaning of his death being so innocent, so holy and so pure that it covered every human ever.

Even me. Especially me. Especially you.

He is risen!

   

[Judy Harder]

Special Easter Traditions
Mar 30, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt


As dogwoods bloom, tulips tip their hand, and cluttered closets are cleaned, I'm reminded that spring is in the air. With the windows cracked open allowing the sacred sounds of robins whistling in their newly formed nest, I'm invited to wonder.

Spring announces birth, renewal, and fresh beginnings. And with this month of April, it also rings a month to cry, "He is Risen Indeed."

With five children in the house, tying in special traditions to our beloved Easter holiday plays an critical role. Traditions are an important part of our family tapestry, and I share a plethora of last minute Easter ideas at my blog. Sometimes, they are deeply meaningful, filled with profound spiritual applications, and other times they are just fun. Many include great food.

These Easter Resurrection Rolls are a sweet combination of both.



This easy, hands-on, delicious recipe not only allows for a special treat, but it also opens the door to unique avenues of discussion with the younger ones. Remember the wonder that I desire to welcome in this spring?

Well, who would have ever thought it could take place through crescent rolls and marshmallows. This recipe is perfect for the youngsters, but also the young at heart.

Share the truth of how Jesus was placed into the tomb (crescent rolls), and then explain how they prepared his body by putting oil and herbs on him (cinnamon and sugar). After waiting three long day (or twelve minutes, which feels like days to the children), we know that death could not hold Him in the grave, and He was alive.

The tomb is empty! He is risen. He is Risen Indeed.



Resurrection Rolls

Ingredients

1 (10 ounce) can refrigerated crescent dinner rolls (or even better, homemade Butterhorn dough.)
8 large marshmallows
1/4 cup melted butter
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons white sugar
Directions
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F on lightly grease a baking sheet.
Separate crescent rolls into individual triangles.
In a small bowl, mix together cinnamon and sugar.
Dip a marshmallow into melted butter, then roll in sugar mixture. Place marshmallow into the center of a dough triangle. Carefully wrap the dough around the marshmallow. Pinch the seams together very, very tightly to seal in the marshmallow as it melts. Place on a baking sheet. Repeat.
Bake in a preheated oven until golden brown, about 15 minutes.
Makes Eight Resurrection Rolls
** I have made these without dipping them in any butter, cinnamon/sugar mixture and they are still delicious. The butter just makes them an extra special treat.
Make sure you seal the seams very well. If you don't, the marshmallow will ooze out the sides, which is just fine in our home. You have the option of making the rolls bigger by using two crescent rolls, but still use just one marshmallow. This way, the marshmallow won't come out at all. Have the kids play around with making these. On some of them, we wanted the empty tomb effect, so we left a small portion of the roll open but made sure the side had a little lip to contain the melted mallow.


What special traditions does your family celebrate at Easter?

By Jen, who is in constant pursuit of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam (while making her 10 Minute Dinners.)

This post is one of our favorites we wanted to share with you again. It was originally published at (in)courage in April 2011.

[Judy Harder]

A Sunday Scripture for Easter
Mar 31, 2013 01:20 am | incourage




After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."
Matthew 28:1-10



Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
Praying you have a joyous Easter Sunday,
celebrating the miracle and the gift of Jesus Christ's death and resurrection.

Love,
The (in)courage team

[Judy Harder]

Freedom In Community
Apr 01, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley



Last month I made a big-time confession on my own blog.
I was honest with my community about some large scale problems going on right now within my marriage. Right now. Not nine years ago or in our first years of it all. Right now.

What's different about what I was able to share in my online space and others is that I'm already living in a post-crisis, fully-redeemed marriage. Just click on my (in)courage bio right there at the end. I'm sure it will say something about that.

I'm living in what is supposed to be

healed space

mended wounds

and a restored life.

But what I found that I was actually living in for the past two years is a marriage full of anger and resentment, bitterness, selfishness and pain. It's gotten very bad and we have let it come to this together.

I've been terrified (read, absolutely petrified) to be open to anyone about this (including my own very best friends) for fear that all that I'd worked for would be lost. I've written a long time and spoken for several years about how to have a restored marriage and mine is imploding as we speak. I was worried what everyone would think and would we still have any friends at the end of this?

Those of you who are in any way recovered from any kind of addiction or bad-choice behavior know exactly what I'm talking about. We are scared to continue to fail. We are scared to be open about our real-world journeys because we should be better than that. We are scared to tell people we go to therapy (or we need to go) because we are afraid of the stigma. We are worried that those that have given us grace in the past will somehow run out and look at us with compassion-less eyes.

These are real fears.

But here's why we have to be honest. Because we need to be free. And Jesus came to give us freedom.

Even if it is something that maybe we should know better about or maybe from the outside it sure looks like we have it all together, we must live in such a way that we have women and friends around us who aren't afraid of our worst. We must live in an honest way where we can be transparent about our struggles. When we have this we have freedom.

We cannot perpetuate a community culture or a church culture that punishes the honest. Think of it this way. If I wonder if one of my school-aged daughters is lying to me, the conversation becomes less about WHAT they are potentially lying about and more about the actual dishonesty itself. "Please tell me the truth." I say to them as we sit together. "And I will not punish you for what it is you are lying about."

And the truth comes out.

Being a community that invites honesty is one of the most important things I think we can be to one another. A hand is held out to help rather than slap when a confession is made. The arm is given to hold around someone's waist rather than to push the person away.

When I was honest with my community, it was easier to be honest with myself. And it was easier to begin writing with a freer hand. My community embraced me and wept for me and prayed with me and because of that I now feel much more able to be

mended

restored and

healed.

What about you? How has honesty made you free? Do you feel like you should keep it all together because that is what others expect from you?




The long walk (and a book giveaway!)
Apr 01, 2013 01:10 am | Melanie




Melanie Shankle lives in San Antonio, Texas with her husband, Perry, and daughter, Caroline. She graduated from Texas A&M in 1994 while possibly on scholastic probation. Melanie began blogging in July 2006 when she started her blog, Big Mama. She's also a regular contributor to The Pioneer Woman. In her spare time she likes to shop good sales, watch too much television and laugh at things that are sometimes inappropriate. Her first book, Sparkly Green Earrings, was released in February 2013.

*********

The first book I ever fell in love with was On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I couldn't get enough of it and, to this day, I vividly remember the story of Laura luring Nellie into the part of the creek where she knew there were leeches. It fascinated me. I'm not sure what that says about my personality but let's not examine it too closely.

That book began my love affair with words. I spent most of my childhood under the covers with a flashlight reading Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume and Noel Streatfeild (Ballet Shoes, anyone?) and anything else I could get my hands on.

And something inside me knew I wanted to do what those writers did. String words together and tell stories in an attempt to make people laugh or cry. But no one really walks around proclaiming, "I want to be an author!" It's the equivalent of saying, "I'd like to be really poor and frustrated for the rest of my life as I receive multiple rejection letters!"

So I got a nice sensible sales job after I graduated for college and tucked away notebooks full of angst-filled poetry and short stories that I never showed anyone.

But, lo, technology progressed and the wonder that is the internet was created. Which led to the advent of a thing called a blog.  Maybe you've heard of those.



I began to write again. Mainly to capture memories of my daughter's toddler years that were going by at a speed that would make a freight train envious and left me wondering where my baby had gone. Then, after years and years of recording a lot of stories about potty-training and pacifiers and poop, a book was born. The whole story is too long to tell because you would be all WRAP IT UP, NANCY but there was a moment in the whole process of writing Sparkly Green Earrings that I will never forget as long as I live.

About a week before we sent out the proposal, I was talking to my agent on the phone. It was mid-August and my daughter, Caroline, was sitting in the back seat, waiting on me to finish my conversation so we could go into Subway and order some truly mediocre sandwiches with too much mayonnaise and lettuce that is sketchy at best and e.coli tainted at worst.

After I hung up the phone I said, "Babe, thanks for being so patient. That was an important call about the book."

"Mama?"

"What, sweetie?"

"It has taken you a really long time to write a book."

Since I'm never one to miss a teachable moment outside of Subway, I replied "Yes it has. But you know what? Sometimes in life the things we have to wait on the longest or work the hardest for turn out to be the sweetest things in the end."

And then she said something that I know was God speaking through her right to my heart.

"Mama? Sometimes we have to walk to our future even when it feels like we want to run."

It was all I could do to not break down and cry right then. Because it has been a journey and the book has been a dream I've had somewhere deep down since all those nights I stayed up too late soaking up the words of Judy Blume with a flashlight.

The proposal went out about a week later and I held my breath and told myself it didn't matter one way or the other, that I had done what I felt like God had called me to do and the rest was up to Him. Honestly, I half-expected that maybe someone would offer to let me pay them $10 to get it bound at Kinko's and sell it out of their garage.

But that's not what happened. And after much writing and editing and rocking back and forth weeping and sleepless nights, my memoir about motherhood and God and life, Sparkly Green Earrings, became a reality and a tangible reminder for me that not only does God put things in our heart, he brings them to pass.


*I am so excited to be giving away TWO copies of Sparkly Green Earrings today.

For a chance to win a copy, please leave a comment.  I'd love to know what your favorite books were when you were young.

You can purchase a copy here.

To find out more you can visit my book page here.

And for the book trailer, please click here, or watch below.






Sparkly Green Earrings Trailer

By: Melanie, Big Mama

[Judy Harder]

You Have Permission to be in Process
Apr 03, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth



photo by Carey Bailey

You are not who you were yesterday,

You are not who you will be tomorrow.

You're in the middle of the beautiful process of becoming.

We fight that as women, don't we? We tell ourselves we have to be it all, do it all, know it all now. We deny ourselves permission to learn. And when we can't learn, we can't grow.

I thought about this recently as I stood in the curtain section of TJ Maxx saying these words over and over to myself: You're learning to decorate your house. You're learning to decorate your house.

Doesn't that sound silly? But it was much better than what I said over and over last time: You can't decorate your house. What's the matter with you?

I thought, somehow, that being born a woman should automatically give me the ability to know if the sheer or heavy curtains would look better, which color they should be, and how every shade of light would look coming through them. And when I didn't, I felt like a failure. I've had similar experiences in the photo frame aisle of target, in the bedding section of a department store, in the cutest little home decor shop you've ever seen.

I share this example because it's amazing how small a crack shame needs to slip through in our lives. When did we decide to judge ourselves on everything from our ability to pick curtains to how good a parent we are compared to the mom next to us?

God doesn't judge us that way. He knows "All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field" {1 Pt. 1:24}. I used to read that verse as simply meaning life is brief. But I'm seeing it with new eyes lately. And I think what God is also reminding us of here is that grass is growing, flowers are growing, WE are growing.

Which means he knows that from our first breath to our last, we are in process. And that applies to everything from picking out curtains to becoming who He's created us to be.

And you know what? God's okay with that. He already knows us better than we know ourselves. And if He's okay with it, then we can be too. He doesn't ask us for perfection. Just growth. Every day, a little bit at a time, all the way until we're Home with Him.

You are not who you were yesterday,

You are not who you will be tomorrow.

You're in the middle of the beautiful process of becoming.

–Holley Gerth is the author of the new book You're Made for a God-sized Dream: Opening the Door to All God Has for You

[Judy Harder]

When You Don't Know How To Wait
Apr 09, 2013 01:10 am | Ashley Larkin




The wind rushes the length of my street, stirs the shiny green leaves of the laurel and the delicate red-tinged crabapple, setting berries to shimmy like dangly earrings.

The wind brushes between my socks and the hem of my pants, cues the chimes to play.

I know the wind is real, but I believe in it fresh when I see it and behold evidence that it's moving.

Many years ago in a nearly empty café, I wrote line after painful line, stomach churning over my inability to express myself the way I desired. That day God spoke to me through my own pen that I needed to write, and he would take care of the rest.

God stirred.

At the age of 18, God told me I'd marry a wonderful boy. A few months later, the wonderful boy broke up with me.

Six years later, we married.

God moved.

Fifteen years ago, on a college mission trip, I cleaned rooms in a trash-filled, bloodstained single-room occupancy hotel in San Francisco. I felt deep inside the pain of those who lived there, along with an unfathomable peace. I felt the stirring of God's message: he had chosen me for painful work, walking alongside the broken and hurting.

God rushes, God brushes, God speaks, God nudges. Sometimes in the pebbles of everyday circumstances thrown in water, rippling in slow motion circles; other times with rocks placed right here, creating monuments of remembrance that we heard his voice.

But what of the times all seems still, when we don't see or feel God moving. What of these times we wait?

For the promised child? Our mission field? The dreams we barely dare speak?

As I've waited for God to bring to life my heart's dreams – many still unfulfilled – I've been encouraged by David, who waited more than 20 years between his anointing as Israel's king and the day of his rule.

Sometimes waiting is learning to walk faith new. Sometimes waiting is preparing. Sometimes, we don't know the why. Regardless, what might we learn through the example of David?

As David awaited his kingship, he served in small and large ways – whether caring for his father's sheep, playing harp to soothe the troubled King Saul, serving his brothers on the battlefield or slaying the giant, Goliath.

How are you serving? Do you find it hard to remember God blesses not only great acts of valor, but also the everyday small done in love?

As David waited, he submitted to God and trusted in the Lord's timing – though he experienced times of tremendous fear, loneliness and confusion. Even when jealous King Saul sought to kill him, David refused to take the life of the king, believing God knew better. David made significant mistakes along the way, but he returned over and again to his God.

Has opposition from others caused you to lose hope? Are you struggling to make your way back to God? Do you find yourself scheming or mustering strength to bring about his calling?

Lastly, as David waited, he sought God in prayer, proclaiming his goodness. In Psalm 59 (believed to be written during one of Saul's murderous pursuits), David described the Lord as "Protector," "Savior," "Almighty," "Fortress" and "Loving God."

Do you believe God loves you and is mighty to bring about what he desires in your life? What quality of God can you proclaim while you wait?

Today, friends, whether you see winds blow, or whether all seems still, may you experience afresh God's breath as you serve him, seek him and submit to his love that leads.

By Ashley Larkin, Draw Near.

[Judy Harder]

Does Someone Need Your Words Today?
Apr 10, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp




My son carried two cards to our mailbox today: one for Sister Nat, a sweet lady at church who's experienced great healing with an experimental cancer treatment; the other for Mr. Harold, an older gentleman who works in the office of the church where the kids and I go for classes one day a week.

I often type prayer requests on my phone to remind me of those who need a card in the mail: I hope you feel better soon. I'm sorry for your loss. You have not been forgotten. But in spite of good intentions, sometimes they're never written.

It took Mr. Harold to make me stop and ask: Who might need my words today?

Mr. Harold has quietly battled cancer while sitting behind his desk at the church. One January morning when he wasn't there, we learned he'd suffered a stroke. Tests revealed a malignant brain tumor from a second, more aggressive cancer, which leaves him with a life expectancy of three months to a year; partially blind and unable to walk; and haunted by the question:

Did my life have an impact?

According to Mr. Harold's wife, what he needs most are encouraging stories of how he positively influenced the lives of others. Don't you need that, too? I do.

I knew I would never forget it if I let our busy schedule get in the way of writing a card before it was too late. My 18-year-old son wrote a separate note, telling Mr. Harold how much he enjoyed the afternoon when they sat outside and played guitar together.

The Bible tells us to "rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." (Romans 12:15) The first is easier, but the second is just as necessary.



My husband used to comment if one of the ladies at church had a nice new haircut or dress (don't worry, no jealousy here) and I finally told him, "Don't tell me. Tell them. We all need to hear this." Give sincere compliments when given the opportunity.

"Therefore encourage one another and build each other up . . ." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Is there someone that you should write or call? A friend who could use a word of encouragement? A post that you haven't written because it's difficult, but you know it would help others?

We need your words.

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home





Beyond Ordinary Forgiveness
Apr 10, 2013 01:10 am | Trisha Davis




Trisha Davis loves people. She loves seeing people thrive. She loves seeing others win. It is that love that compels her to speak with honesty and transparency and call others to an extraordinary life. 

Trish is an author, speaker and co-founder of RefineUs Ministries. She and her husband Justin blog at refineus.org. Sharing her own story of ministry, marriage, loss and redemption she longs to ignite a movement to build healthy marriages, families and churches.

She and Justin just released their first book, Beyond Ordinary: When a Good Marriage Just Isn't Good Enough.


Trisha and Justin make their home in Nashville, TN with their three boys, Micah, Elijah and Isaiah.



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Photo Credit

As Justin and I share our story, the affair gets all the attention, but what I have come to realize is that I had a forgiveness issue long before the affair. I had mastered the art of unforgiveness, and felt clueless about what true forgiveness looked like.

One of the questions I always get is, "How did you ever forgive Justin? How in the world could you forgive him after what he did?" It is one of the most important questions you can ask, and one of the most amazing questions we have the honor of answering. After all, ordinary lives in resentment, but extraordinary lives in forgiveness.

Resentment can have such a grip on our hearts that we need to forgive often for our own healing. That is exactly what we realized as we walked through the cycle of forgiveness. Forgiveness is hard.

Grace is unmerited favor, a gift offered with no strings attached. Forgiveness is a gift that flows from grace. In forgiveness, we give up our right to throw our stones in retaliation for the hurt the other has caused us. Forgiveness is only true forgiveness when you forgive regardless of the person's response.

Spouses in extraordinary marriages live in the awareness of the grace and forgiveness given them by the Father. They embrace grief, anger, brokenness, and forgiveness rather than ignore them. They live in the knowledge that forgiveness is a process, not a one-time choice, and that it may take seventy times seven to finally feel reconciled. And they live in the grace to keep that forgiveness flowing.

Maybe you have fought your whole marriage to be right. You don't think your spouse respects you. You don't feel like your husband believes in you. So this resentment you hold on to is your way of proving yourself or of having the upper hand. This anger you keep just under the surface of your heart is a part of you. You wouldn't know who you were without it. Your anger allows you to be in control.

Living in the hurt of the past allows you to brace yourself to deal with the disappointments and hurt in the future. You find your identity in your resentment.

If that's the case, the truth is that there is a part of your heart you are not just withholding from the person you can't forgive. You are withholding that part of your heart from God. And God longs to heal you, to free you, to form you and shape you into the person you were created to be.

Maybe this resentment you've learned to accept has nothing to do with your spouse. You take it out on your spouse, but it isn't really about him or her. Your past hurts have made a home in your marriage and in the process have made your marriage ordinary. You were abused. You were overlooked. You were raped. You were taken advantage of. He broke up with you. He lied to you. Your dad never came back. Your mom never told you she loved you. Your friend abandoned you when you needed her the most.

In reality, you are terrified that if you forgive, you will be admitting defeat. If you forgive, they win. But forgiveness doesn't excuse their behavior. Forgiveness prevents their behavior from destroying your heart. Forgiveness prevents forfeiting your future by not living in your past. Forgiveness prepares you to move from ordinary to extraordinary.

When you forgive, the person who hurt you doesn't win—Christ wins. He wins another part of your heart. When you forgive, you allow Christ to have not only more of your heart but more of your marriage. Where forgiveness lives, intimacy can be restored.

Who do you need to forgive?

Forgiveness leads to healing, healing leads to intimacy, and intimacy leads to extraordinary.

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We'd love to share Beyond Ordinary with you.

You can download the Introduction and first two chapters here thanks to Tyndale House Publishers.

You can watch the book trailer here.

You can read some of the endorsements of the book by visiting the Beyond Ordinary site.

You can purchase a copy here.

And for the book trailer, please click here, or watch below.


BeyondOrdinary from RefineUs Ministries on Vimeo.

We are going to be giving away five copies of the book today! Just share below about a time you've extended grace to someone in your life and offered forgiveness.


Taken from Beyond Ordinary by Justin and Trisha Davis. Copyright © 2012 by Justin & Trisha Davis. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved.

[Judy Harder]

The Way Of The Water
Apr 11, 2013 01:10 am | Adrienne




She stands in the ocean waiting for the waves to come. She sees them coming toward her, flipping over as they make their way to the beach. Almost human how much life they have. She waits. Watches. White caps coming. No matter how long she waits for waves and how many times she keeps her head above them, one comes that covers her. Engulfs. Scares. It is stronger than her and deeper than her and its presence is overwhelming. Then her feet begin to find sand and her head feels air above waves, and she knows that this thing that overwhelms is the most magnificent, beautiful, satisfying thing she's encountered.

That is what it was like when she first leaned into Truth. When she first found her Name-Giver. When she first began to believe. And change came. Because that's what Water does. Waves change everything they touch. Sand castles topple. Seashells are found then stolen again as the tide rolls. And not just waves. All water. Rain drops move mounds of dirt, scatter pebbles, shake leaves. These waves and these rain drops remind the woman of how small she really is and keeps her amateur ideas of control in check.

But the waves don't just overwhelm and topple. They set the shore, give life to sea creatures, bring boats home. And the raindrops don't just scatter and shake. They help lilies bloom, create puddles for jumpers, give life to crops.

The Water-Giver does no less. To believe in Christ is to change. To truly commune with Him is to know that we cannot hold onto selfish pride because it will be toppled when we let Him cover us. We must relinquish control, judgments, pain, life.

All must be, in some way, let go. This is the way of the Water. He moves, scatters, shakes. We will stand and be engulfed by Glory. We will feel the breaking apart of everything that is us. Hearts will tremble in awe of I AM. And every day the Water will overwhelm. And every day, the tide will roll out and our eyes will see the life He has given, the life that comes after the Covering. We will see gratitude where selfishness was chipped away. We will see beauty where sin was washed over. We will see courage in the corners where we wanted to hide. Our deep inner thirst will be quenched.

I know this because I was, and still am, the woman standing on the shore, waiting for the one wave that would actually prove itself worthy of my fear, my awe. Worthy of letting it take over in the best way possible. I was the woman twirling in the rain asking to be washed, asking to feel alive. I was the woman at the well asking for life-giving water. And Christ did not only promise to take over, wash, and give life. He promised to give Himself to me. He tells me, lest I forget,

"...the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (John 4:14).

The waves and the rain did not only cover, they came in. I opened and the water entered. It soaked the heart that needed it. When I began to believe, He came to dwell in me and the Truth welled up within me to give life and to tell me my name. That's what it was like when I first began to believe. That's what it is every day when I let Him have His way. That is the Way of the Water.


By Adrienne, who knows Grace Has A Way