(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Can I Still Be Me While I Wear Him?
Jun 06, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Mae




"I don't want to be a servant. I want to be a Caroline." So says my four-year old hippie child, Caroline.

And wow, that just struck me deep. The contrast. She thought that if she was one thing she couldn't be the other, and that precious one, she doesn't want to sacrifice herself in order to be something else.

And isn't that just interesting? It's interesting to me because it brings to focus how I often live, quite divided. I've bought into this idea that I have to give up all of who I am in order to follow Jesus.

Caroline makes me think about how maybe we, maybe I, separate myself, divide myself when it comes to the call: the call to follow Jesus, to lay down my life, to wash feet, to be servant, to be kind, to be...

a Christian.

Because sometimes I think that if I follow God and I try to be more like Jesus, that it means I have to lose myself, my quirky personality, my silliness, my drive, and all the nuances that make up who I am, who I was created to be.  In the losing, I figure I also need to be mature, and wise, and dress appropriately, and not laugh too loud or say stupid things. Sometimes it all feels like I have to try too hard to be all the things I'm supposed to be if I lay claim to the name "Christian."

Not only am I trying to figure out who I am as a Jesus follower, I've also got this life to contend with, this life that I am swimming through, reaching through, trying to figure out my strokes so I don't drown. How does this me, this slow swimmer, this sometimes going under, me, how do I learn the strokes while swimming them?

How do I follow Jesus while just trying to live and make sense out of the everyday?

Can I still be me while I wear Him?

Because I'm thinking, what if in the making of a servant, the making of becoming Christ-like, I lose Sarah Mae? What if I try so hard to a servant, a Christian, that I lose the woman God has woven together? Is this what Caroline thought, that if she is to be one thing she couldn't be another? She doesn't want to lose herself to become something else. And do we have to? Do we have to lose one to become another?

Does "lose your life to gain it" mean we slay our very selves?

I don't think so.

I think Caroline has it partially figured out. She knows, she's confident, that she wants to be herself. I really, really like that about her. But me? I'm not so confident. I want to be better, do better, follow better, look better. Die, right? Die to self.

What does that mean?

Die to the flesh, the things that tug at us to be ugly and unknown and far from the One who made us to be more than our flesh.

He breathed into us, knit us, and I think when He asks us to die, He is asking us to live in who He created us to be. We were born into bad, but that's not how we were created. We were created to be good and beautiful, and we wear Him all over, His image. Isn't that just something? We are the beautiful ones, those who are broken enough to believe it. The ones who are some days drowning, some days flailing, some days begging God, "just show me how to swim and I will!" But He finds us in the waves and He says stop trying so hard, you are in my ocean, let my current lead you.

Yes, that's it, isn't it? We, the beautiful ones who choose to die, to stop fighting the waves and instead let them lead us, we are still who we are, we just...stop trying so hard. We let Him lead.

And wouldn't you know, when we swim with the current, we gain confidence, and we gain strength, and we move forward, one stroke at a time. There is no timer, we aren't in any hurry. And we look around, and we see others, some flailing, some racing, some seeing who is behind and who is before, but we, the beautiful ones who lean into the current, we just nod. We know the waves can be rough, swimming is hard, and so we choose do it together.

I am a servant in the making; some days I've got it down, but most days, I'm flailing. But through it all, I'm me, and doesn't the Father just love me so? And doesn't He just love you so?

Swim on you beautiful one, I'm right there with you, under, over, gasping, feeling, floating. I'm right beside you. And I'm nodding, because I know it's hard, in fact, some days it's a flat out battle to breathe. I know.

And I'm with you.

You. And I love who you are, who God made you to be.

So swim on sister. Swim on in who you are, not who you think you should be. You are beautiful. You are God woven. You are not alone.

Swim on.

Love, Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com





The Purse
Jun 06, 2013 01:10 am | Cara Coleman




I asked the Lord to examine my heart, allowing Him full access to those hidden places. I knew from the beginning where He would lead me. I was just along for the ride.

Just as I expected, He led me to my closet.

It was right where I had left it up in the back corner. It wasn't collecting any dust because it came with a beautiful tan bag to protect it from such things. I got it out of its bag and looked at it for a moment. I knew it wouldn't take long for the emotions to take their place and tears to start rolling down my cheeks as I reflected on the person I was when I thought I needed a ridiculously expensive purse to prove my worth.

As I opened the R.E.P (ridiculously expensive purse), I remembered the thoughts that rolled through my head as I'd tote around the purse that was big enough to be carry on luggage. "I hope people are impressed by my expensive taste." "If they didn't think I was important before, then they do now." "Wow this is really heavy to tug around all day but I guess that's what chiropractors are for."

At that time in my life, there was no bag big enough or expensive enough to carry all of my insecurities. I was so busy buying things I didn't need to impress people I didn't know.

I'm not sure when it happened. The change. But I can tell you that this verse rocked me to the core.

Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming upon you. Your wealth has rotted, and moths have eaten your clothes. Your gold and silver are corroded. Their corrosion will testify against you and eat your flesh like fire. You have hoarded wealth in the last days. James 5:1-3 NIV

This excerpt from Jen Hatmakers "7":

This is hard to process, so it helps to imagine standing in front of the families of my Ethiopian children, who were too poor and sick to raise their own beloved babies. As I gaze upon their hopelessness, I imagine them calculating what I've spent on clothing alone, realizing that same amount would've kept their family fed and healthy for thirty years. ~Jen Hatmaker

The Lord has gently revealed his love for the poor and given light to my eyes to see true need. (Psalms 19:

For example, by selling the R.E.P I am able to do one of the following: (from WorldVision.com)

Buy school supplies for 30 children in impoverished communities
Provide job training for 28 women
Give care to 28 orphans
Completely stock a health clinic
It's not about the purse, girls. It never was. Amazing women have amazing purses and are able to minister in amazing ways. It was about my heart and my deep need to elevate myself due to insecurities. To put it frankly...I needed to raise my self worth above others with a material object.

Oh sisters, the Lord has so much to teach us about our worth to Him and His kingdom.

We must first be willing to invite Him to those hidden places to expose the untruths and lies that the world has fed us for so long.

Do not conform to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Romans 12:2

Lets get real honest with ourselves here. Is there a place you are willing to invite the Lord for healing?

Is there a tangible object you would lay on the altar?

Peace Y'all.

By: Cara Coleman, The Front Porch Ramblings

[Judy Harder]

Just Be... Normal
Jun 07, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider



Photo credit

How shall I say this without sounding overly vague? I'll try this—my family and I have been in the non-profit world of being the hands, feet, and mouths of Christ and his teachings for quite some time now. If you get my drift.

Whether directly "out there" being a light in a dark place, or more "back here" supporting it in various direct and indirect capacities, we're no stranger to this world. For about two decades, I've been involved, somehow, in a global mindset to give as many people as possible access to knowing about the death, resurrection, and teachings of Jesus.

And so when you're entrenched in this world, it's easy to overanalyze, become overly concerned, and overcomplicate this business of "being light." We strategize and analyze a plan for being an available conduit to anyone who might be in need of a bit more hope. We aim to be normal people in our intentions, so we go out of our way to understand what it means to be normal in our cultural context, whatever that may be.

Because I'm no stranger to this approach, I have quite the radar for it—which means I can pretty easily see that this strategy isn't dedicated only to the professional Christian. It's rather widespread, whether it's on social media, at the park, in our front yards, or at the doctor's office. It's the idea that if you're a follower of Jesus, you "should" have your guard up at all times. Be prepared to give an answer. Be culturally relevant while still being different from the world.

It can get stressful with all that pressure, 24/7.

Yes, when you think and act like what Jesus said was true, that means your lifestyle will inevitably sometimes be different than someone else's. And yes, if you're consistent in your lifestyle, that means you might sometimes say something to a neighbor, answer a question asked by a fellow mom at the playdate, or not laugh at the crude joke everyone else finds hilarious at the office.

But might I make an alternative suggestion to the self-imposed pressure to Be A Light, All The Time?

Just be a normal person.

Be a normal person who laughs, loves, gets frustrated, even angry, and sometimes sad. Be a person who gets the stress of paying bills, the exhaustion of nursing babies, and the humor of Nacho Libre. Be a regular neighbor who likes barbecue and is willing to share it over some potato salad and an evening fireside chat.



And when things are rough, don't be afraid to say so. Being a light doesn't mean that every Facebook status has to involve a verse, or that you have to force a pithy spiritual anecdote into every situation. Being a light, many times, is admitting that life is just plain ol' hard.

We Christians sure can add more pressure to being Christians than Christ ever intended. When Paul said that we have been crucified with Christ and no longer live because Christ now lives in us, and that the life we now live in the flesh is lived by faith in the Son of God—that means we got some new DNA. Our flesh wasn't repaired; we got a whole new spirit inside us, and that spirit is Christ Himself.

Relax. Just let the Christ who is already in you be revealed in all its marvelous everyday ways. We're secure. Relationships don't need a project-like pressure attached to it. Go on, and just be a regular friend (Emily said this well recently).

Life isn't always about being "out there," always with a smile on our faces and willing to give a measured account of Christ's death and resurrection in fine-print detail. Sometimes, life is about—well, everyday life. And just being ourselves—normal people—is enough to bring hope where it's needed.

So whether you're in the business of being the hands and feet of Christ, or if you do it just because it's who you are, honor God's creativity by firstly being YOU. He'll take care of all the details. Especially if you just relax and be your normal ol' self.

How are you putting too much pressure on yourself to be a light? And what's your favorite Nacho Libre line?

by Tsh, Simple Mom

[Judy Harder]

Someday
Jun 09, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp




I've wasted a lot of time waiting on somedays: Someday I'll make a workable cleaning schedule and then we'll have company more often. Someday I'll become a morning person and have quiet devotionals and get things accomplished before everyone else gets out of bed. Someday I'll take a class on graphic design and create the things floating around in my head. Someday we'll have more money and . . .

The list goes on.

Do you wait for somedays? What do yours look like?

Someday we'll have a house that's big enough for entertaining.

Someday I'll have children and be a stay at home mom.

Someday the kids will be older and I won't be so tired.

Someday the kids will be grown and I'll do all those things I've waited to do.

Someday I'll have a bigger blog and more opportunities will come from it.

Someday I'll write a book and then I'll consider myself a real writer.

Do you see yourself in any of these somedays?

Planning ahead isn't a bad thing. God has plans for us, as he tells us in Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Although God has a future planned for us, I don't think there are periods when we're supposed to be in a holding pattern, waiting for those "somedays" before we dive in and do the work he's put in front of us.

If you always think of yourself as a work in progress, when will you consider yourself ready to accomplish anything?



Years ago my children and I arrived at an early morning event with our homeschool group. This was when my kids were little and a new one was born about every two years. That period was a blur of swollen belly and ankles; babies nursing through the night; diaper changes; and arms strong from carrying infant car seats. I'd fixed my hair and makeup and all of the kids wore shoes and clean clothes—a victory!

Afterwards a couple of young mothers told me of their struggle: they desired more children, but didn't know if they could do it, if they could handle the strain of the day-to-day and still hang onto their sanity.

My family's presence that day—the fact that the kids and I looked happy and reasonably put together—was just what they needed to see. It gave them hope that the seemingly impossible might be possible after all.

God used me to encourage these women when I was knee-deep in financial worries, sleep deprivation, and dreaming of those mythical somedays ahead, living in a state of minute-to-minute dependence on him. In 2 Corinthians 12:9 he tells us:

My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

God doesn't need our strength or worldly success in order to use us. In fact, those things might fool others—or us—into thinking that the credit is ours instead of his.

You don't need a bigger house before you can welcome others to your home. You don't need a large readership for your words to encourage. You don't need children of your own to find souls in need of nurturing.

Be satisfied with the gifts and circumstances that God's given you right here, right now, and use them to his glory.

What somedays are you waiting for?

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home

[Judy Harder]

What It Looks Like to Have a Cyber Sabbath
Jun 10, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth


I've mentioned a few times that I have a Cyber Sabbath. In other words, I unplug for twenty-four hours each week. I often get asked, "What does that look like exactly?" so I thought I'd share a bit more about that in a post.

First, the backstory. I found myself getting exhausted by social media. Even though I loved connecting with people, over time my life just began to seem louder and louder. And social media never sleeps. Never stops. So I started feeling as if I couldn't either. It seemed as if I stepped away from my screen, then surely I would miss something vital.

At the same time, I started to learn more about what keeping the Sabbath really means. I found out that it's about physical rest, yes, but also about a deeper rest of the heart. It's saying to God, "I'm not in control. You are. And to reaffirm that, I'm stepping away for a certain period of time each week." My friend Bonnie Gray also showed me that rest is about celebration. It's taking time to savor our blessings. It slows time so we can fully enjoy what God has given.

Over time my weariness and God's gentle Word convinced me I needed a Sabbath. I had tried to set aside time like this before but it always felt more like an obligation. This time it seemed like a gift. And it was. I started awkwardly. I put down my iphone and paced the house. What would I do now? What was happening without me? It took a long time for my heart to get quiet. But it finally did.

And here's the most important lesson I've learned: Yes, I need the actual rest on my Cyber Sabbath. But I need the lesson it teaches me about the other six days even more. Because despite my fears, nothing has exploded in my absence. I haven't missed the tweet of a lifetime. The social media stream flows on just fine.

That can only mean one thing. The world {wide web} doesn't revolve around me. Or you.

We both say, "Well, sure, I know that." But sometimes that's not how we live. And when we live that way, we forget not only who we are but who God is.

Sabbath realigns us with love. It reminds us we're not created for tasks but for relationship. It reassures our hearts that we're not slaves but instead cherished sons and daughters. It relieves us of the burden of controlling our own lives.

Because we're under grace and not law, I don't believe there's a "one size fits all" Sabbath. What you and I define as work is different. So what looks like rest to us is different too. If you do physical work {like chasing kids} all week, then the internet may be the most peaceful place for you because it lets you have a physical break. Only you and God know what you need.

Picture the Sabbath as a beautiful box with a bow on top–a separate space in your week that's wrapped in God's love for you. What he places within it is unique to each of us. Will you open it and see what he has especially for you this week?

"Sabbath is both a day and an attitude...It is both a time on a calendar and a disposition of the heart. It is a day we enter, but just as much a way we see. Sabbath imparts the rest of God–actual physical, mental, spiritual rest, but also the rest of God–the things of God's nature and presence that we miss in our busyness." – Mark Buchanan, The Rest of God

XOXO

Holley Gerth

[Judy Harder]

Running Out of Reasons Why I Don't Need God

Why We Need to Thank God for Our Problems
Jun 11, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Welch


When my husband and I bought our second house, it was a fixer upper.

Which is a nice way to say we bought a dump.

The weeds in the backyard were taller than I was on tiptoes, the walls were peeling, the bathrooms were stained, the appliances were broken and the carpet was scary. And that was just the beginning.

But as ugly as it looked on the surface, it was ours.

And that made it pretty special. Or ugly special, whatevs.

One night after my husband repaired shelves in the master closet, he rehung all of our clothes on the rod. He moved on to the next project on our list, which happened to be sitting on the sofa because home repair is exhausting. Just as we sat down, we heard a horrific crash. When we opened the closet door, not only had the rods come out of the wall, so had the, um, wall. Huge holes were not exactly functional.

I wanted to cry. And did. I was 9 months pregnant and our air conditioner was about to break, the new church job wasn't a good fit and so the broken closet fit in perfectly with all the brokenness around me.

It seemed like everything we touched crumbled.

The more things fell apart the more we fell into Jesus.



That was more than ten years ago and I can see now what I couldn't then: every ounce of sweat equity we poured into that house would pay off when the market spiked and provided enough money for us to start over. Every tear we cried in that hard place would propel us into a better one.

We can't see where today's problem might lead us. Or what good may come of our current struggle.

But we can trust this: Our problems lead us to Jesus. Our desperation puts us face to face with a God who can fix broken things.

He is the storm calmer. He is the cleft in the rock. He is our strong tower in the battle. He is. There.

I don't know what you're facing today. You may need more money than you can imagine, more healing than doctors say possible, more answers for your questions. You're on the path to God. Because when we can't, He can.

So, first, thank Him for the problem. Then ask Him to show you a way out. When we focus on Christ instead of the tough spot we're in, it might not change our situation immediately, but it changes us. Which is even better.

Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family



Jun 11, 2013 01:10 am | Anne Taylor




A few years ago, I spent a summer training for a half marathon. That year, life was in shambles. Stress and worry consumed me, and I was facing challenges unlike anything I'd ever encountered. Every move I made was calculated to try to regain peace, but my belief in self-reliance was wavering as summer approached.

That summer at home began as it always does, with a 10k that happens every Memorial Day. I was walking through the race expo, eyeing all the runners. They had an energy in their step that I craved. Hope was palpable. I walked up to a running club's tent, asked a few questions, and signed up on a whim to train for a half marathon, a distance I'd never imagined I'd ever take on.

I woke up every Saturday at six in the morning that summer, tied up my laces and drove out to the trail. I'd greet my running buddies between yawns, and off we'd go for three miles, five miles, twelve miles, talking about life and love everything in between. Running became my sacred time. Every other moment of the day was shrouded in hardship, but the few hours I spent with my feet on the pavement were full of light and trust and healing.

Looking back, I realize how serendipitous that season of life was. A moment in time that cannot be recreated. I have tried, I assure you. Life will get hard again, and I'll think, This can be solved by another half marathon, only to quit after two weeks. I trick myself into thinking that I have all the answers, and the reason why light overtook the darkness of that summer was because I was in control.

I am solution hungry, a problem solver, a rescuer. When times get tough, I immediately rack my brain for the steps to take that will soothe my worries and iron things out. I like to be in control. I like the routine of a wake up time, a planned breakfast, a training schedule.

Here's the thing: running requires trust and acceptance. What is before you is all there is. A cadence of one foot in front of the other, a breeze between your fingers as they glide back and forth against your body, the sky above you and the road beneath you.

It is in these sacred moments when it becomes apparent that reliance on God is the only way forward. Times get tough, my body starts to hurt, my heart is pounding and I am out of breath – but somehow, I am still running. I am still moving, I am still alive. No self-made solution will ever equal the sustenance that God provides when I give up control and let life come as it will.

It is easy to forget about the sweat and the tears and the pain, and how God lit the path before my feet that summer, not me.  But the important thing to remember is that no matter how many times we mess up and think we can fix it on our own, God always shows up, always turns the light on, always sets up a half marathon training tent. We can and will say, "I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me?"

"The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different." (Romans 7:25, The Message)

No matter the challenge, no matter our belief that we can do it all on our own, God shows up. His peace cannot be manufactured. The hope we crave, the energy we long for, is a product of the faithful One's desire to shower us with love, to teach us about perseverance, to reveal to us the sacredness of life, of the bodies we have, the bodies he resides in, the bodies that can and will keep moving.

by Anne Taylor, Anne the Adventurer

[Judy Harder]

When people you love make choices you hate
Jun 13, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance




The anguish in her voice broke my heart.
She had just confirmed her father's affair with another woman after months of speculation, separation and conversation.  Hers is a version of the same story I've heard before from others I love, and it stings my heart to listen again.

She asked me hard questions, the kind that don't really call for answers, the words that help you wrestle through Things That Ought Not Be.  Questions incensed with fiery righteous indignation and understandably so.

How could he do that to her?  How could he do that to us?  How could he...? 

I was angry for her, once again a witness to the fallout and consequence of someone else's selfish, self-serving choices.

It comes packaged in so many ways–

You learn your teenage daughter – a leader in her youth group and a missions trip veteran – has been sexually active at the same time you discover she's pregnant.
You find your spouse has been making risky financial decisions for years without your knowledge or input, destroying your credit and bringing you to bankruptcy's cliff.
Randomly deciding to use the car your son's been driving, you find cigarettes and a lighter tucked away in the side of the door...and you can't decide whether or not to be relieved that "at least" it's not what your neighbor found in her son's room–illegal drug paraphernalia. 
The friend you considered your best, your secret keeper, your kindred, curiously drops out of your life, becomes close to others, never explains why.
Your parents' marriage crumbles when your dad confesses his involvement with another woman, and his profession of love for her poisons your relationship.
No man is an island, no woman lives in a vacuum, and as much as we'd like to compartmentalize, our actions and decisions affect those around us...even if that's not our intention.

So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. ~ Colossians 3:12-15 (NASB)

There's a reason God commands us to love and forgive; if it were optional, I'm convinced we wouldn't.
But people make it so hard, don't they?  And in response, aren't we inclined to make our love and forgiveness conditional?

When your life is rattled or upside-downed by the decisions and actions of others, how are you supposed to move beyond the immediate offense, pain and betrayal?  Is that even possible?

I believe love and forgiveness are possible and even in every circumstance.
I'm not talking about Christian cliche or pat answer;  this is no easy response or simple act of the will.  In fact, it's the exact opposite.

Love and forgiveness are possible when we surrender our right to have rights, when we relinquish any sense of entitlement–

to expect others to behave how we want them to
to withhold a loving/forgiving response until they're truly repentant or compliant
when we're the wronged party, or in any obvious sense, are "right"
The ability to love and forgive without condition demands that we practice what we profess.
Supernaturally – because I don't see how I can do this in my own strength – I have to take God at his word and believe that his ways are better than mine.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.  ~ Isaiah 55:8-9

In every situation, there are as many different stories being written as there are people being touched by the circumstance.
Does it help you to know that God is accomplishing his purposes in each of them?
There's redemption in awful circumstances to trust that God is accomplishing his purposes in you, in me.  It gives us hope to cling to, even when our feelings are screaming the opposite.  My perspective has evolved over a number of years during hardships I'd rather forget; I've said it before and it bears repeating here:

God is good, only good, and I fully believe out of this goodness, he has shaped my thinking to trust whatever circumstances occur in my life – the good and the difficult – are intended for my good, his glory, and in some way, the advance of the gospel.
The battle my friend is fighting finds her trudging through the mud and muck to claw for a way to honor, love and forgive her father when his behavior gives her reason to sever their relationship.  Hers is one battle in a sea of countless...like the battles you're facing...and I offer you what I'm praying and speaking over her–

Consider what you can learn about yourself and others in the midst of the circumstance...
Trust that God can redeem this for good in your life, especially as you enter into greater intimacy with him...
Realize your testimony is being told through your response to the situation.
Be mad.  Get angry.  Scream and cry and punch all the pillows in your house.
And then love and forgive.
Because you are loved and forgiven.
❤ Robin Dance

[Judy Harder]

Meet You At The Red Light" (and other things my Daddy taught me)
Jun 15, 2013 01:20 am | Deidra



You know how you grow up in a house with people all around you saying and doing the same things all the time, and you just figure that's how things are in everyone's house? Then, you go to visit one of your girlfriends and you realize not everyone puts sugar on their spaghetti, or sings out loud to Broadway soundtracks, or roller skates in their basement for fun.

Last night, with Father's Day just around the corner, I started thinking about what it was like growing up in the house with my Daddy. It was fun, I tell you. My dad is da bomb! Poor thing, he lived in that house with my mom, my sister, and me, and all of our hormones and mood swings and drama, and he took it all in stride. We even had a female cat. "Yeah," he'd say, "I'm outnumbered in my own house." And then he'd drive us to ballet, or to cheerleading practice, or to get our hair pressed and curled. Or, he'd lie on his back on the floor in the dining room and I'd lay there next to him and we'd listen to Lena Horne singing through the speakers on my dad's hi-fidelity stereo. Some days, our family of four would go for a bike ride; my dad in the lead. On car trips, he'd suddenly belt out a line of "Down In The Valley" just to keep things interesting. Good times.

My dad gave the best advice. He still does. Here are just a few of his one-liners:

1. We don't have money for that. Every Sunday after church, we passed by McDonald's, and nearly every Sunday, I tried to convince my dad to turn into the parking lot and buy me a Happy Meal. I pleaded. I begged. I probably even pouted, and I don't remember a single time that my dad pulled into that parking lot. "We don't have money for that," he'd say, as I watched the golden arches pass me by. It was years before I realized my dad wasn't saying he didn't have a dollar in his pocket. He had the dollar. He just wasn't going to spend it on a spontaneous Happy Meal.

2. Don't sign anything without reading it first. I don't remember why or where my dad told me this, but I read everything, and I do it because he told me so. If my signature is on it, I've read every word. It annoys people sometimes. They want to tell me, "This part just says such-and-such, and this over here says so-and-so..." and I say, "OK. Thanks. I'll read it." Sometimes it takes two seconds, sometimes it takes two days. But I'm reading that bad boy before I sign it.

3. Pay with your credit card, then go immediately to the customer service desk and pay the bill. It was the first lesson I learned about building my credit, and I passed it along to my own children. But not after I'd tried it my own way, run up a ridiculous amount of debt, and had to take the slow and winding road to paying off all that debt. It's good advice. I wish I'd paid attention the first time he said it.

4. If today is "the last chance to buy" it, there's a good chance you don't need it today. You know how people on television say, "Call now!" or you go to the store and the salesperson tells you, "This offer may not last," or "This offer is only good for the next hour." Yeah. My dad's not buying that — not literally, and not figuratively. Just give me your best price. Today or tomorrow. Doesn't matter. Don't make a big deal of it. Just be honest, and give me your best price.

5. They'll call back if it's important. Back when we just had one telephone in the house and it was attached to the wall in the kitchen, I can remember being outside with my dad and hearing the phone ring, all the way inside the house. My dad would simply keep doing what he was doing. We didn't have an answering machine, and I'd be panicked that my dad was ignoring the phone. "The phone's ringing," I'd say. "They'll call back if it's important," my dad would answer. I think back to those moments when my phone chimes to tell me I have a new text message, or Facebook lets me know someone has updated their status. Sometimes I'm tempted to let that piece of information distract me from the moment I'm in and the people I'm with. But if it's important, they'll call back.

6. Meet you at the red light. Some days, on the way home from church, or on the way to ballet lessons, or on one of those road trips, someone would go speeding past my dad, in a hurry to get around him and to who knows where. "Meet you at the red light, buddy," my dad would say as the car sped by. Sure enough, a few minutes later, we'd stop at a red light and — lo and behold — there would be that speedy car, in the lane right next to ours. Sometimes all that rushing doesn't add up to much more than a little extra gas and a longer wait at the intersection.

7. God loves you. When my dad talks about Jesus, and how God has always made a way, and how the Holy Spirit sees him through the tough times, he gets all choked up. He's not ashamed. He doesn't hold back. He's a hugger. He's never met a stranger. People meet my dad and they are instantly in love, and that's not hyperbole. He's a cool guy, and he has been saved by grace, and he's not shy about it. People may not always realize just what it is that makes him tick, but the truth is my dad knows that he knows that he knows God loves him, and he knows God loves you, too.

So, Happy Father's Day, Daddy, one day early. Thanks for making it easy for me to see God as a Father who loves me, just the way I am.

[Judy Harder]

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart
and with all your soul and with all your strength.
These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts.

Impress them on your children.
Talk about them when you sit at home
and when you walk along the road,
when you lie down and when you get up.
Deuteronomy 6:4-7

[Judy Harder]

The Divine Appointments
Jun 17, 2013 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels




The dishes piled high in the sink.

The laundry basket is overflowing.

The careless word from his tongue.

The blog post that hasn't been written.

The "what if" and "how am I going to" worries drowning out courage.

The fear that grips you when you are asked to serve.

The phone call from a friend that changes the course of your plans.

The important meeting you insist you are too tired to go to.

Every day it seems like I have to "let go, so I can let God."

I say I fully trust God but yet, when I have a choice, I prefer to be the problem solver. I'll handle this one, God. I like to be on top of things. I've got this day planned out, thank you. I prefer to be in control of my time and make the decisions that suit my personality, my schedule, my needs.

But sometimes He asks me to do the impossible.

The uncomfortable. The inconvenient. The frustrating. The exhausting.

He sends Divine Appointments to knock at my door or sends me a text when I had other plans.

He asks me to LET GO of MY PLANS and SHOW UP to HIS.

I have to let go and let God every.single.day.

When I'm crazy behind on work but I am asked to let it go so I can make it to church on time to greet someone new.

When my husband asks to spend the evening with me and I see the dishes are piled high in the sink and the blog post is still unwritten, I pray God will give me the grace to let the dishes stay for awhile longer.

When a friend calls asking to meet and I was about to crawl into bed for much needed sleep, I pray God would be like caffeine to my exhaustion so through my "yes" He can heal a wound and offer encouragement to a weary soul.

When a word that stings deep slips through to my heart, I pray I can model God's grace and forgiveness.

When I've already given my fair share and God asks me to give or do a little more, I pray He'll pry open my hand and remind me He can be trusted.

It's not about me. There is so much more going on in God's agenda for the day than what I had planned or what I can see.

I pray God can open my eyes a little wider to see what is unseen, make my stubborn heart a little more sensitive to His concerns, and make my weary feet arrive where He wants them to be.

So we fix our eyes on not what is seen, but on what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:18

[Judy Harder]

On Puzzle Pieces and Courage
Jun 18, 2013 01:20 am | Anna


We shared a week together at Bible camp, me a college counselor and she a high school camper. We prayed, drank hot chocolate, stayed up talking into the night, held our hands high in worship, sat in the cool canteen, and played field games. All our activities were threaded together with the love of Christ.

Our faith grew that week as we connected and shared pieces of our hearts. She took home a puzzle piece that I gave her, reminding her that she was one piece in a vast puzzle that – though we'd never see assembled – we knew we were an intrinsic part of. A part of a community bigger than we could literally see.

And without that one piece, there would be a hole. You've done a puzzle with a missing piece – the hole it leaves detracts from the bigger picture, right? She mattered to that community, to that puzzle.



Years and college degrees and weddings and children later, we re-connected through the (in)courage 'unconference', (in)RL. I was a co-host of her local meet-up, and she asked in a comment if I had worked at that Bible camp. When we met on the day of (in)RL, laughing and sharing pictures of our baby boys who have the same name, we felt our puzzle pieces coming together. God was giving us a glimpse of the bigger picture, of the whole that only He knew.

We both felt a tug towards encouraging women – specifically, working mothers of young children. When (in)courage announced their new (in)couragers community groups, we knew this was the place for us. And so she & I opened up a shiny new Facebook page, threw open the doors, poured the coffee, and invited women in to breathe.

Isn't it lovely how God uses ordinary, simple things to do extraordinary work? To truly speak into our hearts and lives and fill up our souls? And isn't it wonderful how He lives on the internet? We gather online, in pockets and corners, to encourage and be together when we can't actually be together, and to share our hearts. (in)courage has truly become a 'home for the hearts of women online' where we can gather, and through (in)couragers groups we can take it one step deeper with women who share our circumstances.

Is it scary? Yes! To share our stories and ask for friendship with strangers is never easy. But let's look at where we all gather right now, at incourage.me. The name says it all – in courage. In courage, we join in. In courage, the group leaders and mentors have stepped up. In courage, we offer bits of our stories. In courage, we pray for one another. And only in courage can friendships be built.

Each of us holds a puzzle piece. Each of us has a place in this community. Without our individual piece, there is a prominent hole that our eyes are drawn to. You matter. There is a place for you here. And whether you join a group and talk every day, or quietly listen, or become a prayer warrior for others, or ask others to pray for you... no matter the level of your involvement, your presence has taken courage and it does not go unnoticed.

In our small yet mighty group, all working mothers of young children, we found community. Real, authentic, beautiful community. We laugh out loud and cry real tears. We lift each other up to the One who has gathered us there, and rest in His presence. And this spring several of us met outside the screen as she & I hosted a local (in)RL meet-up. Our puzzle came together – all because of a week at Bible camp, a shared passion for encouragement, and a God who wove it all together.