(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Three Ways to Be Brave When You Feel Like a Wimp
Apr 12, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


Ever feel like you might possibly maybe perhaps have something to offer the world around you but you just can't manage to find the courage you need to open your hands and offer it?

Or open your mouth and say it?

Or pick up your pen and write it?

Or swing wide your door and let them in?



Here are three ways to be brave when you feel like a wimp:

1. Accept your limitations.

What? I thought this post was about being brave!

Look, I'm all about a challenge, about pushing yourself beyond what you thought possible, about defying gravity and all that. But let's pause for a minute and think about our own limitations.

One reason why I often feel like a wimp is because I am painfully aware of my own limits. How can I be brave in this situation when I clearly can't do this, that, or the dreaded other?

I am guilty of thinking being brave means I have to deny my limitations. But like the bumper rails at the bowling alley, my limits can be a gift.

My limitations keep me from getting too far off course and set me free to move into my calling with confidence.

It's important for me to start here, because it can be easy for me to get busy dreaming and starting and changing the world. And there may be nothing wrong with that until I realize I forgot to plan dinner for next week and totally missed a dentist appointment this morning.

I have limited time, resources, and energy. It's true, I don't have a limited God. But that doesn't mean I am to try to become God myself.

God submitted himself to the greatest possible limitation when he came down to earth. Skin? Are you kidding me? Harness the power of the Almighty Creator within the delicate confines of two lungs and capillaries and a digestive system?

Don't despise your limitations. Learn to work within them. Let them be guard rails for the way you spend your time and your energy.

For example, it takes a long time for me to be honest. Not that I lie – I'm not a liar. I just have a delayed response to what is true. I can't always tell in the moment how I feel about something, don't always know right after I read a passage if I agree with it or not.

I admire people with strong opinions. I might even be one of them if I had more time to think about it.

My personal processing time is a limitation, one I have to be honest about. But this can also be a strength. Knowing I need a long time to process means being intentional about getting that time. It forces me to slow down, to consider, to spend time thinking and praying about things. It keeps me dependent on Jesus.

This may not serve me well on a debate team, but that's why I'm not on a debate team. I will also never run for office or do improv comedy.

See how helpful it is to know my own limits?

2. Embrace your giftedness.

God gave the world the gift of Jesus, but he did it through a person.

Mary didn't seem to feel embarrassed or ashamed about this gift, didn't feel the need to explain herself or manufacture some kind of humility. Receiving the gift given to her by God was the most humble thing she could do. Accepting God's favor of her was worship.

She didn't hide out and question his call over her life. Her soul magnified the Lord and her spirit rejoiced. Then she went to Elizabeth's house to share the news.

Let's do as Mary did -

Receive the gift from the hand of God.

Worship.

Share the gift with others.

Mary's willingness to cooperate with God was a choice that ushered life into the world for the rest of us. Jesus was literally within Mary and came out into the world.

And the Spirit of Jesus now lives in you. How might he want to come out?

It's true, you have limits. But it is also true that you have abilities. They aren't from you, but they have your fingerprints. And now Jesus wants to touch the world through the filter of your personality, your desire, your passions, and your ideas.

Stop waiting for perfect motives and a feeling of adequacy. Move anyway. Offer the gift anyway. Be who you are anyway.

3. Give yourself permission to stay in your corner of the pool.

I wrote a post a few weeks ago, explaining what a hundred lifeguards taught me about my calling. Basically, know this: you can't lifeguard an entire pool at once. You can only safely and practically focus on a small area at a time. That small area isn't the whole pool, but it is still important.

Brave doesn't necessarily mean big. Sometimes it means small and specific (this day, this child, this sickness, this meal). It also means trusting other people with their tasks, with their corner of the pool.

Are you waiting to feel ready? If so, you might be waiting for a long time.

Sometimes there is no ready. There is only belief.

Reminding myself of limits, my giftedness and my calling generally give me courage to move into my world as the woman I already am. This is courage building all by itself.

If you aren't aware of your limits, your giftedness, or your calling?

I wrote a book called A Million Little Ways with the sole purpose of introducing practices to help you uncover the art you were born to make and what it means to release it into the world. I believe when Jesus lives within us, he wants to come out through our lives. But that will look different for you than it does for me.

He came down to come in, and came in to come out, and he'll do it in a million little ways.  The book will release in November and is now available for pre-order. Visit Chatting at the Sky to learn more.

[Judy Harder]

For The Days You Think You're The Only One Not In The Club
Apr 13, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong




Sometimes, the more your dream is woven into your deep places, the more you see it out in the world.

When I ached to be a mama but couldn't get pregnant, I saw pregnant women everywhere. No matter where my feet traveled – grocery stores, movies, church – there they were, members of an exclusive club where everyone knew the password but me.

Of course, this wasn't true at all. But tender things longed for and not held distorted my vision.

As my thirtysomething self looks around the dining room table at three shrinky dink versions of my husband and me, I see plain evidence that God says yes to desires, even if differently than I planned.

But what about those times when the evidence hides and you're convinced your desires are the exception? You are the exception?

We have in this community a cornucopia of writer-artists, women drenched in more talent than a sunrise in colors. Honest to goodness, it's easy – enjoyable! – for me to stand on Pike's Peak and cheer these women for their God given talents and accomplishments. However, it's harder for me to accept my own limitations don't make my work invaluable and invisible. And just like those days of waiting for the second pink line to show up on a pregnancy test, I find myself surrounded by a whole lotta book deals birthed. If I'm not careful, I start to believe my lack of one means I'm not invited to the club, a writing second class citizen.

What a lie.

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart."  ~Psalm 37:4

Most desires have deep roots, and God is interested in answering the root desires because He knows that will best fulfill our soul-longing. When I think about this in context of what I want most out of life, I see more than anything I want relationships.

Genuine, real relationships. First with Jesus, then with family and friends.

Since I was seven and writing poems and endless short stories under the live oaks, I've felt a pull towards words. I don't know if mine will ever land in book form, but I can count relationship after relationship that blossomed from beautiful, glorious words.

And it's then I see how God has given me my heart's desire. But I'm not gonna lie: it's super hard not to get side-tracked.

"The challenge in those moments is to not close our hearts–to believe that if God says "not this" to something we hold dear to us that He's still saying "yes" to the desire deep within us."

~ Holley Gerth

Life in the church body isn't a race where each person stays in her own lane, trying to reach the finish line first. Rather, it's a community where everyone sits in a circle – no one further ahead or behind – and brings their gifts and experiences to the table.



You already possess fullness in Christ, and with that is confidence and security that you are enough today. So when we feel the cool temptation to see only what we do not have, may we remember to fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. He can't help but intently pay close attention –  soul attention – to our desires. He is infinitely creative and able to meet them in ways that blow our everlovin' minds.

All we have to do is pay attention. Because when we do, we see it's not about being out of a club but in a family   whose Father welcomes you with wide open arms, always and forever.

Kristen Strong, sitting with you at Chasing Blue Skies.

[Judy Harder]

The Gift of Community (and a Giveaway!)
Apr 15, 2013 01:20 am | Crystal Stine




She told me to return the gift. It was too much. She wouldn't take no for an answer.

I thought I was finally figuring out how to be a friend, to be part of a community. I thought I found someone I could trust, and I let her in to see the real me. Laughter, tears, joy, fear: all of it. I opened myself to this new friendship, so excited to see it blooming.

The night she told me to return the gift she also called me selfish. Said we should no longer be friends if I couldn't see things her way. I was devastated. My heart began to harden toward community.

Sweet friends, I have been hurt by community. More than once I've walked down the painful road of rejection. The kind that makes you want to pull the fuzzy covers over your head and eat double-stuffed mint Oreos. For a long time. By the grace of God, He refused to let me stay there.

When I look back on those moments, somewhere in the middle of mourning the end of the relationships, I see God at work. I see Him drawing me closer to Himself, loving me through the pain, and bending my heart to prepare me for where I am now. Without those hurts, I wouldn't have come across the incredible online community of (in)courage.

Women who go out of their way to spread the love of Christ through the written word and reach deep into the lives of women around the world. These friends? They took a chance on me. More than once. Now they have become an answer to long-ago prayers as they let me help encourage the (in)couragers and watch God do amazing work to build online community groups.

Check out the video intro to our (in)couragers over here. Tune in next week for the full story.

I realize now that, over time, God has turned the ashes of broken community into beauty. Like my blog – I first used my blog as an escape, an online journal to pour out my heart and my hurts where no one would see what I wrote, until God called me to make it public and use it for His glory. And now? That blog full of hurts is a place where God has built community and a God Sized Dream to use my words to encourage women, especially mamas.

And I would never have had the courage to do something like host (in)RL last year, at a time when I was craving real life community. But I knew women on Twitter who were excited about it and they gave me the boldness to go for it! God met me there, in my home with some of my closest real life friends and He started the seed of another God Sized Dream in my heart.

God uses our pain for His platform. My struggles with community have given me a heart for building community and encouraging women – because I've seen the other side. My desire to escape into online community has turned into wonderful, amazing in real life friendships that I could have never imagined. Online community has given me the courage to be in community in real life. So I stay in community even when the enemy tries to convince me I'm not good enough to be there, when he reminds me of my past and brings the scars to the surface. Bottom line? I know this is where God wants me right now. He has refined me, transformed my story of broken community into a story of hope, restoration and joy. He has made beauty of my ashes. Because life? It really is better together.

Click here to come over to our (in)RL page to register for FREE and find out how you can join in on the real life community fun on April 26th & 27th!



Join us today for an (in)courage link up – share a blog post telling us where you have seen God at work in your communities (online or in real life).

Each of you who link up with us (and help us spread the (in)courager's trailer and a FREE (in)RL registration invitation) will be entered to win one of of the amazing new (in)courage ((together)) necklaces by Lisa Leonard!

1 necklace for every 100 blog posts linked up!

[Judy Harder]

Feeding on God's Faithfulness

The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you;
he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.
Deuteronomy 31:8

We are on our knees today, friends. Our hearts, our thoughts and – most of all – our prayers are with those affected by the tragedy in Boston.

This is a community founded on prayer. As we join hands across the internet today and lift up our hearts, broken for Boston, let's pray for one another, too.

How can we pray for you? Please, share a prayer request in the comments, then say a prayer for the person who left the comment before you.




Apr 16, 2013 01:10 am | Evelyn Rennich


Recently my husband and I launched a diet of sorts. I've been reading about how our bodies operate best when fed true food, healthy and fresh and whole. As I think about how to effectively feed my body this week, it is natural that I would also explore how to feed my soul. It stands to reason that our souls would also function best when fed correctly.

This observation is why, perhaps, Psalm 37:3 struck me so deeply this morning.

"Trust in the LORD, and do good; dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness." (NKJV)

What does it mean to feed on God's faithfulness? What would it look like? I picture two scenarios in my head.

In the first scenario I see horses feeding upon lush grass in a field. Their heads are down, grazing leisurely. Their tails lazily swish flies away. Their backs absorb the warm afternoon sun. It's peaceful, enjoyable—an ongoing feeding process as they munch and linger.



The second scenario is less relaxing but just as sweet. I picture my boys, two years and six months old, feeding upon each other's energy. The older makes a spitting sound that only a two year old boy can appreciate, and then the younger smiles and gasps. His eyes dance as he encourages his brother to continue. The enthusiasm and volume level escalate as their shared joy swirls around them. They feed upon each other's excitement to keep the playtime going.

I imagine "feeding upon God's faithfulness" to be similar to these scenarios—a restful enjoyment of God's presence and promises all day. Or perhaps a wild revel in His goodness and constancy that makes you want to dance and scream and giggle and maybe even make ridiculous spitting noises.

I continue chewing on that verse, and I wonder why we are encouraged to feed on God's faithfulness as opposed to His many other appealing qualities? His faithfulness is what causes Him to be steadfast, unchanging, true, constant. He won't leave. He won't change. His faithfulness will sustain. His faithfulness will carry you through your day, toddler tantrums and sticky rice on the carpet and all.

Friends, your God won't leave. He won't change. Can I encourage you today to let your soul feed on His faithfulness, however that might look for you?  Enjoy Him moment by moment. Find your sustenance in His constancy, His unshakable goodness. Let His joy bubble up inside as you graze on His faithfulness through the hours. You might find that it's the best meal you've ever had.

by Evelyn Rennich, Smallish.

[Judy Harder]

be)loved
Apr 18, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance



"Define yourself radically as one beloved by God.
This is the true self.
Every other identity is illusion."
~ Brennan Manning



I assumed she knew.
How could she not know?  This Godly young woman's life preaches the Gospel whether or not she's using words–her decisions, counsel, countenance all point to One Thing.  Jesus.

I assume you know, too....

We go to church.  Read and study scripture.  Bookmark Christian websites.  Pen our faith in paper journals.  Proclaim it with our lips, in our homes, online.

It's not that we haven't heard it or read it.  It's too important to forget, yet remembering is so hard. Why...is..that...?

Is it simply that knowing with your head doesn't equal believing with your heart?
Will you declare this with me, right now – out loud – and pray the ears of your heart hear it with believing?

I am beloved. 

(Colossians 3:12)
I'm convinced the enemy delights in our defeat.  He's been hissing lies since the garden. Venomous fangs punch holes in our hearts, siphoning belief and injecting poison in its place.  Ears are deafened, vision is obscured, perspective is distorted.

He peddles junk we're much too eager to buy:  the (false) belief whatever it is we have to offer doesn't matter, isn't enough, falls short in comparison to everyone else.

We see the talents of others and stamp them Better.  We compare ourselves to family, friends, even strangers (insanity!) and assign them a greater value because they're doing something we cannot, will not, have not or may not even want to do!

Shoulders slump and countenance falls because a distorted mirror reflects imaginary inferiority.

Listen to me, lovies–

God calls you beloved!

God calls you beloved and when he looks upon you he sees his son, covered in your skin, speaking with your voice.  He values you and he doesn't need you, he wants you.

I searched the new testament for instances of the term beloved; in the ESV translation I found 66 verses.  And though every verse doesn't apply exactly, when you read them at one time, you come away with a sense of how God sees his children–with great intimacy, affection and unconditional love.  (Related – if you're interested, a study of the word and related derivatives, its Greek origin and application)

God has made you unique–do you understand this?!  You are one of a kind.  Precious.  Irreplacable.

I want to shout it until you hear, shake you to awaken you from belief's slumber, press it into you until your heart receives what your hard head already knows.

You are altering the future by impacting everyone around you by how you treat them, how you choose to love them (or withhold love), how you listen, encourage, invest.  Y o u.

Some of us will make tiny ripples and others will send waves crashing, but each one will forever change the surface of the water.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone.  To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. ~ 1 Corinthians 12:4-7

Some of us are stubby pinky toes and some of us are melodious voice boxes and some of us are fleshy thighs or muscular calves or beating hearts but we're all part of the body, and when it's at its healthiest, all the parts are doing their job and working together. (1 Corinthians 12:14-25)

In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul draws an analogy between the physical body and the spiritual; how every part is necessary.

Verse 19, "If all were a single member, where would the body be?" and in verses 22-23a, "...the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor...."

Every part matters. Lesser is greater, last is first–Kingdom ways refused to be boxed in man's convention.  It's a kingdom of opposite value in so many ways.

It is no small thing that you are God's beloved; in fact, it is everything.

Everything that matters, anyway.

If what the Bible says is true, Jesus gave his life for you.  Our ears fall numb from hearing that so often, but when I allow myself to linger on this, I begin to see my worth.  My value to God.  The purpose and significance of the things I do well.  Though it is likely that others may share your talents and gifts, not one person on the planet, past, present or future, shares your thumbprint.

Yes, I assume you know these things (I assumed she did, too) but sometimes we need to be reminded.  When it feels like everyone around you seems to be achieving greater successes; or doing greater things for the Kingdom; or enjoying the blessing of great marriage or having children or finding the perfect job; or being more talented or generating interest from Very Important People or receiving more opportunities; or maybe it seems like you don't have any talent whatsoever, nothing distinguishable to offer or that you're an invisibility cloak wrapped around vanilla...whatever it feels like...

It's not about what you do or don't do, say or don't say, contribute or withhold–God doesn't love you any less or any more based on your performance.  It's simple Truth, impossible for the human mind to comprehend, but it is enough–

You. Are. Beloved.

: : : : : : : : :

With {{love}} from one who needs to be reminded, too.





Groceries and Grace
Apr 18, 2013 01:10 am | Erin Rodgers




We'd just relocated to a new area, and I was out shopping for groceries with my toddler son. We had family coming to town that weekend, so I made a special stop at a higher-end, expensive grocery store to pick up some hard-to-find ingredients for a family meal.

While parking the car and wrangling my son out of his seat, I took note of all the Mercedes and Audis in the parking lot. These luxury cars reaffirmed in my mind that we were at a more upscale grocer.

I looked down at the floor of my car in need of a good vacuuming and felt an instant rush of unworthiness.

Inside, after gathering our ingredients, my son and I waited in line to pay. I looked about and saw some business people on their lunch break , dressed impeccably in suits and rushing to get back to work.

I felt a pang of jealousy for what I perceived as their importance.

I also saw the woman ahead of me in line – trendy bag slung over her shoulder, ring finger almost disappearing under her stacked diamonds and her designer label shoes. Once again, I made a mental comparison against myself.

My hoodie and flip-flops didn't quite cut the mustard.

How did I feel walking out of that grocery store? I felt badly about myself and my situation in life. I let the enemy whisper lies into my ear – lies of unworthiness, lies of inadequacy and lies that smacked of materialism.

I was immediately convicted by the Holy Spirit. I had allowed every one of the blessings in my life to pale in comparison to those few superficial observations.

Instead of feeling joy in knowing that I was free to stay home with my son because God paved a financial way for that to happen, I felt unimportant.

When I should have been thankful for God's timing in bringing us to this new area and orchestrating our move to another state, instead, I felt unsure and self-conscious.

Instead of looking at the precious gift at my side and his upturned face, innocent eyes gleaming with wonder, I was looking at "things."

I prayed a prayer of repentance and asked God to forgive me. The Lord used a quick errand to gently remind me that the process of walking with Him requires my eyes to be trained upward toward Jesus and nowhere else.

In the same way that Peter removed his gaze from Jesus and began to slip under the waves, it is the same for us. No matter what situation we find ourselves in – a difficult day disciplining the children, a health matter, financial stress or even a routine stop at the store – it doesn't matter. Jesus is there, holding out His hand, beckoning us closer even still.

There is no greater peace or hope available anywhere.

Thank you, Father, for your merciful grace in our lives. Let us keep our eyes on you, Lord Jesus.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:2 (NIV)



By: Erin Rodgers

[Judy Harder]

When You Need Permission To Close The Laptop And Let It Be
Apr 17, 2013 01:20 am | Deidra




The other night, I sat on the couch, staring at the cursor on my laptop. You've had that experience, haven't you? Where you sit there, staring at a blank box with a deadline looming heavy over your head. And there sits that cursor. Blinking. I was considering dressing up as a blinking curser the next time I get invited to a costume party. I'd blink my eyes a lot and say bad words. Thank goodness my husband broke into my reverie:

"Let it rest," he was saying.

"Huh?" I said to him, trying to pull myself away from the hypnotic beat of the cursor.

"Let it rest," he said again. "Close the laptop, and let it be."

"But..." I began.

"It will still be there tomorrow," he said. "Nothing will have changed, and nothing is going to change, just because you sit here, staring at that screen."

He had a point. So I closed it. Let it rest. Let it be. And the whole entire world opened up in front of me. Just like that.

I remembered outside and music and food and laughter and holding hands and the sound of snow melting from the roof overhanging our front porch. I remembered fresh air and sunshine.

My husband and I hopped on our bikes and rode a few miles to the lake nearby. We sat on a bench that faced the setting sun, and we talked about the future and what we hope will be and what we're glad we've done, and where we've been.

On the way home, we stopped next to a young boy and his dad, also on their bikes. We waited for the light to turn green, and the little boy was saying, "There are millions of us, racing across the street!" He hunched low over his handlebars, imagining a throng of bike racers, waiting for the starting gun. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" he shouted above the whoosh of cars passing by; and then the light turned green and we were off! All five million of us, in the race of our lives.

The boy and his dad turned off once we crossed the street, but my husband and I pedaled hard and we shouted into the wind, "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" and laughed out loud as the sun spilled pink and orange across the horizon.

Sometimes, the blinking cursor gets more credit than it's due, you know?






I'm Cheering for Your God-sized Dreams Today
Apr 17, 2013 01:10 am | Holley Gerth




I'm Holley Gerth–God-sized dreamer, cofounder of (in)courage, life coach and a friend who cheers wildly for you and all God has created you to do. I'm so glad I get to be here with you this week on Bloom. I wish we could have coffee so let's make this the next best thing. XO



***




We started our journey together on Monday talking about how we all long for more in our lives. Finding it seems like something mysterious. We wait for "more" to come to us. But here's the reality: most of the time we discover it along the way as we're saying "yes" to God.

The "more" we long for isn't something we can produce—instead it's something we receive. It's not found inside our comfort zones but instead just beyond them in the wild and glorious adventures God invites us to take with him.

You won't find "more" on your couch.

You won't find it in long hours at the office.

You won't find it in the new car parked in the driveway.

You won't even find it in your friends and family.

You'll only find it in the arms of Jesus.

Behind every "more" we dream of, he is what our hearts really want most. And they will never be satisfied with settling for anything less.

Consider the God-sized dreams in your heart as invitations to a fuller life. A life with more joy, passion, and growth. A life that makes you rejoice on the good days and push through the hard days because you know it's worth it.

You only get one shot at this world. And we only get one you. Make the most of your time here. Dare to dream. Dare to do. Dare to find out just how much God has in store for you.

I've loved sharing this journey with you. I wish we could end with a real life conversation. I'd ask you all about what your heart has heard and your God-sized dream. I'd lean in and let you tell me all about it. I'd smile, nod and cheer you on through every word.

Before we left, I would pray for you too.

And until we get to have that face-to-face chat here or in heaven, I'm going to pray for you anyway...starting right now, right here as I type these words.

Lord,

Thank you for the one who is on this page right now. You know her name, her needs, her dreams. I thank you that she is a woman of faith and courage—a Joshua or Caleb in her generation. I thank you that even though she may feel some fear, she is saying "yes" to what you have placed in her heart to do.

As she goes about her day, I pray that you would continue the work that you've started here. Guide her into the next step of her journey with you. Show her more of what you have in store for her. Provide what she needs all along the way.

I'm so glad you're with her the way I wish I could be today. Give her heart a hug for me. Help her with her dream. Thank you that it's going to change the world, her life and eternity too.

Amen.

As we walked out the door of that little café where we had coffee I'd say the four words we use in the South, when we're feeling happy and want to encourage someone. Yes, here's a little send-off just for you...

"Go get 'em, friend!"

–Holley Gerth, You're Made for a God-sized Dream

[Judy Harder]

A Place of Your Own
Apr 19, 2013 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels




Do you have a place of your own?

I'm not talking about having a house or apartment. I mean, do you have somewhere set aside where you go to be alone, a place where you can shut out the world and hear God's voice? A quiet place where you look forward to meeting God and where God is invited in to meet you?

It's easy to slip into only meeting God at church on Sundays. But to really grow and get to know Him, we need to set aside a time and place of our own for the time in between — a place where we can be intentional about meeting up with God as a part of our day to day life.

Maybe it is a corner of your home where you can shut the door, light a candle and pray?

Maybe you have a special chair, a comfy blanket, a Bible and a stack of devotional books on a table designating that is your place?

Or maybe you go to a local coffee shop filled with the hustle and bustle of voices, but you tune them out when you begin to sip your coffee in the corner booth, open your Bible study and begin to read God's word?

Perhaps you and God hang out on the way to work every morning, in your car. That's awesome, God looks forward to that time with you and He'll be there waiting!

You know that feeling when you make plans with someone and are excited about it, but they don't show up or even remember to call and reschedule? Yeah. I think God knows that feeling too. Gulp.

I remember a season of life where I was really down and felt discouraged. I needed to connect with God and sense His presence. But where was He among all the distractions? I couldn't find Him because I let everything else get in the way. So, one morning I quietly went out into my yard by myself and started a garden. You know what? God met me there. I had set everything else aside to be alone and make time to hear from Him. Now I see gardens as a very special place for meeting up with God.

It really doesn't matter where your "place" is. The important thing is that we are deliberate in our intent to meet Him somewhere regularly. We need to create that time and space that is convenient and a part of our daily life. The beach is a great place to meet God but if it takes you hours to get there, you might want to find somewhere within walking distance so you can meet Him daily. And then once you have that place set aside, don't forget Him or get distracted by the things of the world. He's out there waiting, wondering if we will show up and invite Him in.

A day in this world is a loud, busy and distracting experience for me, so I love creating a place of my own — where the rest of the world can be tuned out and I can connect with Him. I've often been the worst offender of putting Him off while I attend to other pressing matters. But when I remember that place – the place I've already set aside for Him, and I picture Him waiting there for me, I am aware of how little everything else matters. I can't wait to meet up with Him there!

Where is your place?

Melissa @ The Inspired Room

[Judy Harder]

Hope for the Rejected
Apr 20, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines




I knew what I was supposed to do. Go into all the world and share the gospel with every creature. But something in me held back, and it's been holding for so long. Maybe it was holding even long before I was born.

My Great-Grandmother was a young maid for a wealthy farm owner, and she got pregnant, just a young thing, before she was married. That baby, head full of curly red hair, was my grandmother, and she lived with her own grandmother instead of with her young Mama. Nine years later, she finally moved into the house with her mama and daddy and all her younger sisters. She was gorgeous, grew long legs, and became a majorette with a wit and beauty that snagged a handsome country boy. The country boy played a mean game of basketball. Together they had my mama and my aunt, but he didn't stay.

It makes me wonder if we were all born into shame. Do we pass it down, pump it into umbilical cords? Something in every one of us has felt the sting of rejection. Some of us hold back all our beauty for fear of coming under the shame of rejection. I know my grandmother has had a hard time passing down the beauty instead.

Some people might call it a nudging of the Spririt, but I promise you, I felt God stand behind me and start pushing, while I dug my heals into the ground. I wasn't being "called."  I was being taken into ministry. I was asking for His Kingdom to Come, but then it terrified me, because I knew I was hindered in my walk. I began to work through all the things that kept me from loving others, because ultimately it was a lack of love that kept me from going freely where I knew to go.

So much of the world that I had tried to control began to crumble when I finally named it: a spirit of, and such a fear of, rejection. When I finally named it, called it an idol, and saw what lies it had fed me, I couldn't help but turn and run in the opposite direction. What I'm finding in this freedom is completely new. It's a race, and I'm finally running.

I've not only been released to love, but I have a new trajectory. I am no longer being pushed, but I am full-on running toward HOPE.

It's funny how strange it is to have HOPE again. It's what draws the poison out.

For a while now I've so overly empathized with those wrestling doubt and disbelief that I forgot about HOPE, and if we forget hope, we begin to only hear the shame. We nestle into the dark, disappointed left and right. But I remember it now:

"Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us" (Romans 5:5).

The walls I've built against men, and the ones who look so fixed, and yes against my own grandmother, they are crumbling. Sometimes we just haven't yet believed how loved we are. If we would listen – not as the world listens- but really turn around and listen, the Holy Spirit speaks to us within our own broken hearts. He shines light into shame, as when He spoke the word over the void dark of the deep: God loves you. You won't be disappointed. Hope, let's call it Kingdom. It's here and more than that, it's mighty and on its way. Get back up and run.

*This post is part 2 of Let the Game Changer Change the Game.*

[Judy Harder]

The One Song No Woman Can Afford to Miss
Apr 23, 2013 04:20 am | Ann Voskamp


I heard of a woman once, who when she was with child, she turned and this song swelled in her, her child's own song, and she would hum it as she washed pots.

Hum it as she did her hair up, hum that song like a beckoning.

And when that woman swayed at the end of her ripening, just before the child came, she had hummed it low between each tightening, how she had hummed that song, her daughter's very own anthem.



And then she sang it during the nights.

When she got up in the middle of night with babe squalling and flailing her fists, she'd swaddle the little one close and rock her, lean over that bald, soft head and sing her song to her in this shaft of moon.

She sang it during the long days.

When the little girl fell, scraped her knee. When she refused to eat. When the rain pelted and the girl huddled. When the earth spun and the girl turned older. When the dark slunk in at the door and the girl groped for a way through impossible black.

Sometimes the mother's voice grew hoarse.

Sometimes the mother rocked herself to sleep with the child's song. I could see it, how she sang it like a prayer.

Sometimes she wondered if anyone heard that song but her.

But when the girl was long and willowy, when her heart had thickened into this long scared callous, when her heart seemed more wall than warm and her arms seemed crossed more into a shield than open like a shelter, the mother had heard it one afternoon under the direct noon day sun — other voices singing the girl's song too.

The grey crowned woman across the way. The tender, stretching girl, born that same long summer when she had lilted those first notes. The sister, all the sisters singing.

The girl, she had grown deaf and numb and hard to all she was and had been and could be –

But her sisters knew her song.

Her sisters knew the beat of her heart when she had forgotten how to be.

Her sisters knew the rhythm of her return when she didn't know the road back.

Her sisters knew the lyrics of why she was loved when she couldn't remember how to live.

Her sisters sang her song — when she had long forgotten the words to herself.

Singing the girl's song, all of them singing it soft and strong and certain — her sisters singing her back.

Her sisters sang her beauty when she saw herself ugly.

Her sisters sang her wanted when she saw herself broken.

Her sisters sang her hope when she only felt hurt.

Her sisters sang her beloved — when she couldn't believe.

It could be like this — It could be honest, what her sisters sang:

This is a fallen world. So everyone has broken edges. So everyone is going to hurt you. So commit who you will suffer for.

It could be haunting, what her sisters sang:

Will you love people by halves, breaking their heart?

Or will you love people wholly, holding their only heart?

It could be hope, what her sisters sang:

If you listen close, you can tell you are cared for by someone by how they carry your name on their lips. How your name is safe on their tongue.

And Christ, He names you friend, and God, He calls you redeemed and forgiven, and in Christ, the Three in One, He christens you free of condemnation and accepted and God's workmanship — and your identity is not in a making a name for yourself but in the name He makes for you out of the shaved off lovebits of His very heart.

Even the trees of the field are singing it and the girl with the shielded heart, she could turn –

Her mother, her sisters, some could hardly sing for the lump of love in the throat, but they, they could raise hands with the sisterhood, the sisterhood beckoning one girl back to the song of who she was and the circle of love that longed to enfold her again...

And they will tell you, that's when you could hear it –

the girl, the Father's daughter, her voice warbling like a rising, her voice singing like a brave winging, and they would see her coming, could see the girl coming, remembering the notes of her song, remembering who her Father made her to be, remembering who she was and Whose she was, and how she ran like she was made to fly.

She knew it in the lightness of her bones, what the friendship of women could be:



Sisters will just keep singing your song

Till it perches in your lost places,


Tuning you to what grace is


and the lovesong of your Father


who never stops singing at all.

It's a true story. Her sisters said that all around her: because we believe — we promise to never stop singing your song.

And because the sisters sang — one woman heard what she didn't know possible –

her Father rejoicing over her with gladness;
quieting her fears with His love
exulting over her with loud singing — so loud it drowns out all the doubts.

His love ringing her alive right there in her turned ears.

"The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
    he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing." ~Zephaniah 3:17

~Written for you– sung for you — by Ann Voskamp

Related: Letters to the Wounded #2
The story of the African Tribe who sings the child's song over them their whole life

This weekend nearly 5,000 of your sisters will be gathering in real life in 558 locations around the globe — with (in)RL meetups right around the corner from you. A space to laugh together and be real and extend the hand of friendship — and sing the one song every  woman needs to know. That you are loved. That you are wanted. That you matter. That God lavishes love on you.

The body of Christ is a Love Body — come experience it this weekend.  Watch at home online Friday night. Meet up on Saturday.It's entirely free — you know you need this. Be brave. Start here. Hear your sisters singing? They're singing your song.



Q4U: How do you feel about women friendships? How have you been hurt? How have you been healed?

Will you dare to join an (in)RL gathering this weekend and let your sisters sing over you? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)

[Judy Harder]

Wanting History.
Apr 25, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs


Last Sunday, Meghan came to church with us.

She's moving to Nashville soon and our mutual friend in New York connected us, so she visited our church and then grabbed brunch afterwards. Over a table of brioche French toast, we talked about what it's like to relocate to a brand new place where you don't have any friends, especially as a single gal.

"It's hard," she said, "to move to a town where no one knows my history or has any memories with me."

I remembered that feeling all too well. Though I've lived in Nashville for almost five years, that emotion followed me for so long and was so pungent in my life that I can still smell it if I think long enough.

Those first few months (fine, the first twelve months at least) were some lonely days. I just wanted to say "remember when" instead of meeting new people every day. Starting over. "Hi, I'm Annie. I'm from Marietta, it's outside of Atlanta. I'm an author..." blah blah same thing every time blah.

I was tired of it. All the new.

I wanted to think back to that funny moment with Heather. I wanted to look at Laura across a room when her ex-boyfriend walked into the party and roll our eyes because we lived that mess together. I wanted to celebrate Steve's accomplishments because I had lived the hard days with him, too. I wanted to be surrounded by history even while making more of it.

But at the beginning? None of that exists. No house of memories in which to live. And it was harder than I ever imagined.

I didn't realize how much I valued history with people until I didn't have it.

My Nashville life was just full of bricks of friends and stories, laid around, waiting to be put together. And it takes time to build that house of memories.

All that went through my mind in the few minutes around that table as I thought about my five years in this town. How the toiling and stacking of bricks has paid off and how I deeply appreciate my history here now.

It takes time. Do you need to hear that today? Are you discouraged at your lack of history or lack of memories? It just plain takes time. And the courage to say yes to invites or opportunities and the extra courage to try again if you've been burned by a group or a person.

Are you looking for history with friends? For memories with people who live around you? (in)RL this weekend is a perfect opportunity to start building that house. Be brave. Show up. Build.

Can we pray for you as you are looking for history and memories and community? Let us know.

. . . . .

By Annie Downs





Hiding What's Broken
Apr 25, 2013 01:10 am | Christy @ A Heartening Life


I watched intently as my sweet pink princess of a daughter played. She was a busy five-year-old, spunky and imaginative and always on the move.

She plodded slowly towards me, doll hanging by her side. In her eyes I could see frustration and a touch of sad.

"My doll won't stand up!"

I took up the porcelain doll and examined her carefully.

"I don't want her anymore," she said.

Beneath her doll's purple satin and lace dress was a piece of metal where a leg used to be. Collateral damage from a little girl adventure, perhaps.

"I don't want her because she's broken."



Aren't we all broken? I heard a voice inside me say.

The curly blonde doll with the blushed pink cheeks and the blinking blue eyes –something was missing, but she was still beautiful. The doll and I, we hide the broken pretty well. For many years I hid the painful reality of childhood sexual abuse. It was crippling and I doubted my worth.

I explained to my young one that even though the doll could not be fixed it didn't mean she had no value. The lesson seemed lost on her at the time, but not to me. I am as imperfect as the doll with the missing leg. I was hiding my imperfections fearing that if someone were to find out about them they might discard me.

I was tangled in chains, wishing I was whole. Deeply wanting restoration.

Despite my brokenness and my scars, I am beautiful because God tells me I am. Unlike the doll, I can be mended. I am not broken beyond repair. He makes all things new, even me.

Through Him, I have found the courage to stop hiding the parts of me I see as ugly. And share the real me, with a world that needs to know the One who finds value in the broken.

What brokenness are you hiding? What fears keep you from letting people see the real you?

By Christy, A Heartening Life