(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

On Transformation in the Everyday
Aug 28, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne Segerman



I want to share this story with you, about how God literally transformed me while we were working on a monthly budget, but I don't want to talk about money. Can you grab a glass of something cold (or a mug of something warm, depending on your weather) and sit with me awhile? Because this post isn't about money.

So let me get really real for a minute. We have never been really great with money, as our problem was twofold: not enough income and never learned about finances properly. And because of that first reason (not enough income – and by not enough I mean more than most in the world, but for our family size and our location, we are extremely tight each month), we never really thought there was any point to the second reason: learning about money.

But I had slowly been feeling this nudge by God to do something more about the second reason. To learn more about handling finances and really, to just do a budget already. It was never a condemnation, as if God was angry with me or I was disobeying by not having taken these financial steps before, but more that he was just saying "it's time."

I think in the past I decided that doing a budget would be scary (spoiler alert: It WAS scary, but only at first). I convinced myself there was no point in budgeting when we lived in a time of financial scarcity as a family. I couldn't have been more wrong.

So, we did it, we set up time with a financial counselor to do a budget for September and learn a lot of other things too. Logically I was doing fine. I was looking forward to this appointment, because I felt like we'd see a) that we had been doing pretty well in our decisions; and b) that our money just needed a little organization and it would stretch a bit further.

But emotionally I had become really resistant by the time our appointment arrived. I could feel myself wishing I could cancel, or otherwise shrink into a hole in the ground. I wanted to escape, but I did it anyway.

Then as we sat down and began, I started to feel like I might burst into tears. I told my husband and the counselor what was going on, because for some reason I felt it important to give them a play-by-play. Five or ten minutes later, I told them I felt like I was going to throw up. I wasn't upset or thinking about anything negative in relation to the money stuff; I just was having this weird physical reaction to what I was doing. Naturally they thought I was just stressed out, but I knew it wasn't stress.

Suddenly I felt like it was very important for us to stop and pray. Why I hadn't thought of praying before this financial appointment, I don't know, but I learned my lesson for sure. We stopped and grabbed hands and I prayed things I hadn't had on my mind at all (I love it when that happens).

I prayed that I would be free from any shame of financial failure of the past. I prayed that I would know how God saw me, as whole and beautiful and free, and that these steps were going to be wonderful for our family. I prayed I would ignore any lies of the enemy telling me we couldn't stick to this budget, or that we would never get out of the situation we had been in for so long.

My husband prayed as well, and when we were done I felt like a huge weight had been lifted. All my physical symptoms were gone. I felt healed, body and spirit. We continued on with our appointment and it went fine and we are excited (as much as you can be) to begin the new budget next week.

Since that day I've felt a lightness in my spirit that can only be described as the transformative work of Jesus. How he heals with surrender, the way I was surrendering during my prayer. How he heals with obedience, the way I agreed to the appointment and showed up for it. And I know the obedience and surrender were only possible by the Holy Spirit within me in the first place, because when I got involved, I got scared and wanted to escape.

I love when the Lord uses the practical things of life to heal little corners of our heart that we maybe thought were "fine", or that we thought because of mistakes of the past were just a burden we had to bear. God doesn't want us to do any of that heavy lifting. He asks us, gently, to let him have it all.

What areas of your life have you felt transformed in lately? How has God's spirit been working on your every day life, in healing your heart?

Or maybe you feel like it's time to have God work on your heart in this way? I would love to hear your stories!

[Judy Harder]

A Woman Just Knows
Aug 29, 2013 02:30 am | Angela Nazworth



I have two kids, and like most children, they say some pretty cute things. Sometimes, their phrases are unintentionally comedic. Like the time when my son was three and handed my husband a naked Barbie doll and innocently said, "Daddy, here's a naked girl for you!"

And there are also times when their choice of words leave me pondering deeper truths. Like when my daughter exclaimed that there was no need for her to try squash because ... "A woman just knows what she wants and what isn't for her."

At first, I laughed off her comment, but then I realized that she wasn't 100 percent wrong in her assertion.  Nor was her assertion 100 percent right.

Sometimes I just know something is wrong for me. For instance, I've never set my hair on fire, but I know it's not something I want to try.  When I was younger, I wanted to get my belly button pierced, but since I have this thing against unnecessary pain, I knew that a naval piercing wasn't for me.

I also know that many people consider chocolate-drenched grasshoppers a delicacy.  I'll pass.  If I want some crunch to my chocolate, a small pack of Pretzel M&M's will do just fine.

Sometimes the situation is less obvious, like when I have the opportunity to use sarcasm as a tool to subtly attack someone. Or when I am tempted to tell a "little white lie" to get myself out of a jam or a potential embarrassing situation.  In those situations it isn't so much a gut feeling as it is a lesson already learned . . . but still I can recognize the early warning signs.

Sometimes a woman just knows when something is wrong. And then there are times when a woman knows what she wants, but doesn't quite understand what she needs.

My daughter's body needs the vitamins and minerals that accompany each bite of a fresh vegetable. So one could argue that she needed the squash. But she didn't want it.  She didn't want to look at it. She didn't want to smell it. She didn't want to get it near her mouth. And she sure as sugar is sweet did not want to eat it. She's a girl who knows what she wants...and by default, what she doesn't want.

However, had she given the squash a chance, she may have found out that she truly liked it. Eating squash may have become a want of hers.

As I think about this simple example of typical kid-ness, some self observations jump to mind. As a strong-willed woman, I often know what I want. At least, I think I do. But when I take the time to examine my wants closely, I discover that they don't always line up with my needs.

In fact, some of my wants conflict with each other.

I want a healthy body. I want to eat whatever I want to eat whenever I want to eat it. Conflict.

I want my marriage to thrive. I want my own way. Conflict.

I want a clean and organized home. I want someone else to be responsible for the cleaning and organizing. Conflict.

I'm learning, at a rate that is both slow and sure, that in order for me to choose the right want, I must first understand what it is that I truly need.

When everything else is stripped away, one need remains at the core . . . one need fulfills all others.

More Jesus.

I am a woman who needs more of Jesus and less of herself. I need to be close to Him . . . know His character . . . His word.

I need to be more like Jesus . . . more patient, loving, discerning, bold.

And when I embrace that need it grows into a soul-deep want . . . into a must-have.

What do you want most in this world, and does your want conflict with a need or is it inspired by one?

The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you." Psalm 116:5-7 (NIV)




Rush To Judgment
Aug 29, 2013 01:10 am | Kathy Cheek



Following a blowout that one of our daughters had on her way back to college a few years ago, we were parked at a gas station unloading Mary's trunk to retrieve the spare tire. We were three hours from home and still three hours from our destination with Randy and me in our car and our two daughters in Mary's car.

Mary's trunk was filled with back to college items, which she and her sister Amy were helping their father stack on the pavement. I was preparing to help also when someone appeared out of nowhere as I stepped out of our car. A stranger with dirty, stringy, greasy hair and a wild look in his eyes that instantly made me uneasy asked if he could help, and I promptly replied that my husband was putting the spare tire on the car and we didn't need any help. I was thinking to myself, I hope he accepts this answer and walks away. He basically gave me the creeps.

Just as I said we didn't need any help, Randy told me he couldn't get the last lug nut off, and he had tried with every wrench in his toolbox.

Aaron, or should I say, Crazy Aaron as the girls dubbed him, piped up, "I'm a mechanic. I can help you. There's an auto parts store down the road, and I can take you there to get the right tool."  Randy agreed and jumped into a beat-up old pickup truck with Crazy Aaron and headed to the store.

They came back a little later and Crazy Aaron popped that last lug nut off with the new tool. Randy whispered to me, "He drives like a psychopath! I'm glad we're back!" Aaron proceeded to put the spare tire on; he seemed eager to help.

Randy pulled me aside to softly tell me that Aaron had shared that he had recently lost his job. Randy told me he wanted to pay him generously for helping us. I had cash in my purse and Randy took out more than I would have guessed Aaron's help was worth. But God had already convicted Randy to give him above and beyond what seemed the appropriate amount.

Aaron with the stringy, greasy, dirty hair and wild look had tears in his eyes and his voice trembled when he saw how much money Randy was giving him. He said to us, "You have no idea what you have done for me today! Thank you so much!"

I felt about an inch tall. My rush to judgment now had me swimming in shame. I apologized to him for brushing him off so quickly when he first arrived on the scene.

And what was he doing on the scene? He had run out of gas and was able to coast to the same gas station where we pulled into after the blowout. He had to call his dad and pleaded for money to put gas in his truck. His dad had just arrived and gave him twenty dollars and told him, "there wasn't going to be any more where that came from."

Then, Aaron turned around and saw us and came over to help.

I still think about that day and wonder, did God send Aaron to help us, or us to help Aaron? The answer is both. God crossed our paths to help each other and to meet our needs – and He also taught me not to make quick assumptions about people.

You know, when Aaron smiled, he didn't look so scary anymore. He left us with a smile that day as he drove off in his pickup truck, driving a little reckless if you ask me.

We all smiled too, as he drove away, absorbing the events that had transpired that hot August afternoon. God had been very good to all of us, even Crazy Aaron.

And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19

If I am not the only one who has ever made a rush to judgment about a person, will you share your story and tell us how/what God taught you through that experience? Maybe we can learn from each other...

By Kathy at In Quiet Places

[Judy Harder]

Parenting, Pop Stars and Prodigals
Aug 31, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance



And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming.
Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him.
~ Luke 15:20b NLT

For as long as I can remember, I've butchered song lyrics.

In Manfred Mann's Earth Band's Blinded by the Light, I thought it was "wrapped up like a douche another runner in the night" instead of  "revved up like a Deuce..." (which still didn't make much sense to me); in 10cc's I'm Not In Love, I heard "requesting quiet" for "big boys don't cry."

My worst offense involved an old camp song called Violent Love, a story best told in context.

Sweet and innocent, these days of my youth.  Blissful ignorance.

In every generation, there are performers who press buttons and drop jaws; those who make both young fans and their parents roar (but for opposing reasons).  What one loves, the other hates.

For my parents, it was Elvis, who, when he finally appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, was filmed mostly above the waist; apparently, his hips couldn't lie.

For me, it was Madonna.  Like a Virgin and Papa Don't Preach–she pushed the edge as far as you could go.

Until I realized the edge is boundless.

A new Queen of Shock was recently crowned; whether or not you saw her performance on the VMAs, you've likely heard about it.  Wagging her tongue and her tail, Miley Cyrus has everyone talking.

Just five years ago the former Hannah Montana star declared "There's only three guys that I love right now, and that's Jesus, my brothers, and my dad."  The young woman I wrote about then is tucked inside a train wreck.

First instinct is to judge her.  I've seen accusing fingers pointing at her parents, too.  But the loveliest written response I've seen is courtesy of Annie Downs in her post How do we help Miley?

Speak love.
Speaking love is powerful; it's how Antoinette Tuff, an elementary school bookkeeper, talked a man who entered her school with 500 rounds of ammunition into peacefully giving up.

An ordinary mama diffusing a human time bomb with patience and kind words.

* * *

Thanks to wise counsel from others I respected, I avoided a "One Size Fits All" approach in parenting, learning that each of my children would require something different of me.  Of course we  set standards in our home, but to approach very different personalities without consideration of our children's differences would be an exercise in frustration, a set-up for failure.

One of motherhood's secrets, something I hadn't anticipated in advance, was that the convictions I held at one point in time wouldn't apply in all seasons, for all time.
Early on, it never occurred to me that the choices I made when my children were in grade school didn't make as much sense when they were in middle school, and definitely not by high school.  To have remained rigid and resolute would have chipped away at my credibility.  It would have made me seem out of touch and inflexible.

I chose my mountains carefully and prayerfully.

* * *

If you haven't learned this yet, you will:  Good kids "do."

Good kids will make bad choices.  Cheating on tests, lying, shoplifting, drinking, sexual activity, gossip, drugs–a thousand ways to disrespect themselves or others.

When this happens, everyone is best served if you can find a way to the heart of your child.
Which is much harder than it sounds.

I recently suspected something was up with one of my children.  While it wasn't as public or disturbing as Miley's behavior, what I didn't want – what could have easily happened – was a) for my child to shut down; b) for a great wall to be built between us; c) to set up being lied to.

No matter what it might feel like sometimes, your children do not want to disappoint you.

Do you realize they would rather tell you want you want to hear than disappoint you?  Sometimes it's to avoid punishment, but mostly they'd rather lie than hurt you.

Sometimes the consequence (to you) of imposing stiff consequences (to your children) yields an even costlier consequence to both....
I begged God for favor and truth to be revealed in our situation.  With humility, love and grace, I explained my concerns and that I feared a, b and c above.  With all sincerity I extended the assurance I could better live with the ugly truth than pretty lies.

What resulted was a beautiful, honest conversation, and as it turned out, the truth wasn't nearly as bad as the conjurings of my wild imagination.  Still, had this occurred when my child was younger, there would have been a punishment (at least for the deception); but wisdom and experience informed my conviction and I realized the better choice was to listen, love and allow freedom of discussion.  Only in that freedom was the way paved for truth to be shared.

* * *

Our culture fights the way of Christ; I'm sure you've encountered countless ways you have to battle this within your home.  Choices and decisions exist today that were unheard of when we were younger (regardless of when you were younger).  And it's why I'm especially thankful for this well-known encouragement ~

Train up a child in the way he should go,
Even when he is old he will not depart from it.
~ Proverbs 22:6 NASB

If you have a child who's wandering, whose heart concerns you, whose state of soul terrifies you, don't despair.  As long as there's breath, there's life and reason to hope.

Let go of your hurt, your right to be right.  Let it go.  It doesn't change your child and it certainly doesn't help you.

While his/her choices have disappointed you, he/she is not a disappointment.
While he/she might have repeatedly failed at meeting your expectations or honoring your wishes, he/she is not a failure.
Come to terms with the above in your own mind so everything in you communicates these things to your child.

Make a refuge for your prodigal to return, a space where love thrives without condition.

Resist the urge to condemn and pass judgement, whether it be toward your children, other parents and their children...or even pop stars.

Instead, meditate on 1 Corinthians 13 to remember love's breadth and depth; then speak it with your words and actions.

Would you take a minute to share specifically what this means to you?

–

Shared in love by Robin Dance, who, when most of you read this will be cheering her beloved Clemson Tigers on to hopeful victory over the Georgia Bulldogs (in other words, please forgive me if I don't respond quickly–college football will be holding me hostage!).

[Judy Harder]

So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God,
for whoever has entered God's rest
has also rested from his works as God did from his.
Let us therefore strive to enter that rest,
so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience.
Hebrews 4:9-11 ESV

As we wind down from one season before diving into the next, we pray that you have a moment (or more!) of rest this Labor Day weekend.

Love,
Your friends at (in)courage

[Judy Harder]

Friendship: Here We Go Again
Sep 02, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong



From my spot on the gray and white front porch, I never heard them coming until the driver tapped his car horn. My eyes bounced from my laptop to the white car driving by, and I immediately recognized the two friends inside. I sprang up, hooked one arm around my laptop just in time to save it from tumbling to the ground. I pumped my other arm so hard waving I nearly took flight right off the porch.

When the car rounded the corner out of sight, my tears came out of nowhere.

What is your problem? I scolded myself. So now passing cars make you cry?

I plopped down on the wrought iron bench and shook my head. I knew exactly what my problem was. Once again, I found myself in a season of changing friendships, and it took a mad wave at friends in a passing car to make me realize just how long I've gone without solid, in-person girlfriend time.

When we moved to Colorado Springs in the summer of 2010, we reveled in a family first: built-in community. From the moment our feet hit the high desert ground, we delighted in military friends and other family friends who hitched their horses here, too. Unlike our usual circumstances where we began friendships from scratch, we found ourselves knee-deep in quality relationships that all but fell from the sky onto our doorstep.

But a few months ago, one of those friends went back to work full time in a demanding job. Soon after, two other friends moved away. Other changes came as well. And just like that, my built-in community up and left the building, and it feels like our family moved again even though we haven't gone anywhere.

Now, when it comes to goodbyes and making new friends, this ain't my first rodeo. I am adjusting to the change faster than in the old days, but that doesn't mean the season of without or waiting isn't hard.

I mull this over as I peck keys at my favorite café when two girls my age sit down at the table next to me. They are laughing and sharing in equal amounts, painting a picture of friendship worthy of an art gallery. The one closest to me has a kind face, and when she mentions having an 8th grader, I smile and say to myself,

Me too! Me too!

I would love to ask her where she lives, where her kids go to school, and oh, by the way, could she use an extra friend? But it isn't quite that easy.

On the other hand, prayer is easy. So over my blended honey vanilla chai, I whisper,

"Whomever I'm meant to be friends with, Lord, please just work it out."

As the words of my prayer soar upwards, I trust He catches them.

You can trust He catches yours, too.

If you find yourself in a season of waiting on friends, please know this: God values your life so much, He gave it a higher priority than that of His own Son. You can rest assured that every component of your life – including your friendship needs – is tucked inside His care.

Yes, I could be in a season of waiting on friends because He wants my attention elsewhere. But God is a God of follow through and finishes, and I am learning to live in each friendship season with hope-filled contentment.

"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!"

1 Corinthians 13:12 The Message

It would be a little dramatic and a lot of fun if I could tell you that kind woman from the coffee shop showed up at the park or the PTO and we became fast friends. She hasn't, but He has. The view is muddled and I can't see how this friendship season is going to work out. But in my heart, I hold undeniable signs of God's care today woven with His faithful promises of tomorrow.

And one day it will all come together, an unimaginably beautiful picture of friendship.

Do you have a picture of friendship worthy of an art gallery or are you in a season of changing friendships (or maybe both)? What are you learning when friends seem far away?

Kristen Strong, hopes high at Chasing Blue Skies




Say Goodbye To The Mean Girl
Sep 02, 2013 01:10 am | Annie Downs



About a year ago, I was a speaker on the Girls of Grace tour, talking with thousands of teens each weekend about the power of words. One morning, back at my Nashville home, I was getting ready and just thinking/praying through all that was going on at our events. And I saw this sentence run across my mind like a news ticker in Times Square.

What if we killed the mean girl?

I immediately began to argue with that news ticker.

It's not possible.

She's everywhere.

There's a movie about her.

We all know her.

But then I felt like it was less of a random question and more of an invitation.

God was inviting me to step into what He was already doing – rescuing teen girls from the words of others and calling them into something new.

A few months later, the idea of Speak Love was born and as I began to write the book, I realized this was more than an invitation – it was an opportunity to have a front row seat to the show of our lifetime.

The mean girl is going to be a memory. I know, I know, it seems impossible. I get that. In moments, I think it feels that way too.

But then I remember that oceans part when G0d says and dead people breathe again when Jesus speaks and I remember that nothing is impossible to God and He's the one doing this anyways.

And I'm excited to be a part of what God is doing in the next generation. What an honor we have as adults to help lead this army of young women who are ready to use their words to speak life. God is calling us to teach the younger women a different way to use their words. He's inviting us to be a part of a massive culture shift where unkind words won't be welcome and speaking love, deserved or not, will be the norm.

(I think that's why this post about Miley Cyrus exploded on my blog – because people are tired of the pressure to be unkind and are looking for Christians to say the different thing.)

Speak Love is a manual to walk young women through this new way of using words in how they talk to God, to others, and to themselves.


And so, it's with much excitement, a little fear and trembling, and total awe that our God invites us into His work, that I say goodbye to the mean girl.

I hope you will, too.

[Judy Harder]

Giving Yourself Grace
Sep 05, 2013 01:10 am | Vanessa



My life is probably a lot like yours. Busy. Full. A bit crazy and hectic, with so many things vying for your attention. On most days, I handle it all pretty well.

And then on others I feel myself buckling under the immense weight of self-induced guilt. The whispered thoughts attack me from all sides.

Your daughter's baby book is waiting to be finished, and you haven't even ordered recent pictures.

You aren't keeping a clean enough home. Just look at all that clutter piled up. You'd have more counter space if you just cleaned.

You've fed your son buttered noodles and broccoli for five nights in a row!

Your yard isn't going to plant itself. How can you stand to have a lawn of dying weeds among all these lush landscapes of your neighbors?

I try desperately to ignore this inner voice, this whisper that points out my shortcomings and failures. I try and I fail. I allow the guilt to shove me to the ground where I feel desperate and alone, wondering how I'll ever manage to stand back up. I call out from the wreckage, and my friends, dear sisters in Christ, send me these lovely words:

Give Yourself Grace

These words often bring me some peace, but what do they mean? How does this work?

This seems all well and good, this premise that we free ourselves from our guilt, that we tell ourselves "It's okay!" But the more I prayed on these words, the more I felt a nagging voice urging me to look further and dig deeper.

What's wrong with giving ourselves grace? The answer is nothing...as long as your heart is first open to the full grace in Christ.

"Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance...cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate." – Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Cost of Discipleship

If we are to be freed from our self-induced guilt, we must first turn to Him, repent of our sins that have gotten us into this mess to begin with, those sins known and unknown. Let the Holy Spirit open your heart to receive his mercy and pardon, and accept His grace fully and joyfully.

The thing is, we don't have the power to truly pardon ourselves. When we attempt to skip a step and go straight to self-grace, we cheapen it. When we attempt to give ourselves grace, we abuse it. We misuse it. We distort it until it's no longer grace, but an excuse. The grace we show ourselves is earthly, weak, and incapable of providing the redemption we need, even for the smallest of sins.

Truly giving yourself grace isn't about giving yourself anything. It's about being open to His grace and fully accepting it, not just for the big hurdles, but for the tiny every day stumbles.

All the glory is His alone, and all true grace comes from Him alone.

[Judy Harder]

How the Boring Stuff Matters
Sep 06, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider



When I first arrived in Turkey many moons ago to live our family's new life, I was the mother of a two-year-old. A few months later, I became pregnant with our second-born. Two years later, I became pregnant again, miscarried; then six weeks later, got pregnant one last time with our third-born. Most of the years we lived abroad, I was either parenting a toddler, dealing with the bodily unexpected times of pregnancy, nursing a newborn, or some combination of it all.

Of course, that's not why we moved 6,000 miles from our home turf; to change diapers and worship the porcelain god. But that's what I ended up spending quite a bit of my time doing. I'd meet my tutor at a tea house several days a week to learn the language, I shopped at the local markets, I'd walk to the nearby park to practice language with locals while the kids played, and I got to know our neighbors—but otherwise, my life was at home, doing pretty much the same mundane stuff I was doing as a new mother in the States.

I found it odd that God brought me all the way to the other side of the world to, well, raise little kids and manage a home.

In fact, I found it more than a little odd. There were many days when I was frustrated at my supposed time-wasting, emotionally exhausted from feeling unused, and quite honestly, a bit bored from it all. At least living everyday life in my own culture meant access to English television and coffee with old friends. What on earth was I doing with my days?

"If God has come in the flesh, and if God keeps coming to us in our fleshly existence, then all of life is shot through with meaning. Earth is crammed with heaven, and heaven (when we finally get there) will be crammed with Earth. Nothing wasted. Nothing lost. Nothing secular. Nothing absurd.... All are grist for the mill of a down-to-earth spirituality." -Paul Stevens, Down-to-Earth Spirituality: Encountering God in the Ordinary, Boring Stuff of Life

About a year into our life in Turkey, a fellow American friend confided this in me: "I've become so frustrated at my lack of usefulness here that I wonder if God brought me all this way not to use me, but for me to better know Him." Our lives' daily liturgy, when focused on how grandiose, or useful, or even productive they might be, can become the bastion of frustration when we end our days not having accomplished much more than the humdrum of life.


{Photo by Tsh}
My friend's comment changed my perspective for the remainder of our time abroad, because it reminded me that no matter where I am or what roles I've been given, the point of my life is not usefulness, but in knowing God and enjoying Him forever.

This realization is nothing short of revolutionary. Tasks like laundry, nose wiping, errand running, and job clocking stop becoming a burden, and start becoming ingredients for our spirituality—a real one, where we relish in the fact that we are God's and God is ours, regardless of our usefulness. Even when we're given "big" tasks, like living cross-culturally or serving in leadership, these roles become less of a pressure to perform and more of an assignment to better know Him when we acknowledge that all of life, big and small, is crammed with heaven.

We are His children, and just as we don't love our own children because of how useful they are to us, neither does God's love for us depend on how productive we are in our days. He is passionately wild about us, even when the majority of our waking hours are spent in the everydayness of it all.


{Photo by Ann Voskamp}
At the end of our life, we won't be able to look back and remember most of the hours of our days, but we'll remember what those hours produced. My hopeful goal is intimacy with God, knowing Him as a true Father and friend. Don't fret or curse your mundane tasks. They're grist for the mill of a down-to-earth spirituality.

by Tsh Oxenreider

[Judy Harder]

God is No Respecter of Persons
Sep 07, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp



I learned a life lesson in the first grade. Social status impressed my teacher, Mrs. Smith: if your dad was Somebody, she preferred you. Six years old may be young, but children are incredibly perceptive.

I was not preferred.

Later something interesting happened. My dad sang and played the guitar and periodically appeared on the John Chick Show, a live morning program featuring country music on KTUL TV out of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

I wanted to see my daddy on TV, so my mother sent a note to say I would miss school that day. When Mrs. Smith discovered the reason for my planned absence, she told me to come to school and our class would watch the program together.

Smart man that he is, my daddy dedicated a song—I think it was Puff the Magic Dragon, a childhood favorite—to Mrs. Smith's first grade class.

Not surprisingly, my daddy became a Somebody and I rose in Mrs. Smith's estimation.

Although I recognized what happened, I didn't like this ranking game: my tender heart rebelled against it. It still does.

{Do you see me? I'm the solemn blonde on the far right of the middle row.}

When we moved to Georgia as young newlyweds I didn't know who was supposed to be important and who wasn't and I liked it that way. I don't want to judge or be judged by a subtle system that ranks our value as people.

And then the internet changed everything.
I discovered that scores of women like me exist, women who chose motherhood or career or both, but share a passion for words. We peck our keyboards during nap times; moments snatched on busy afternoons or in coffee shops; and those precious, sacred hours late at night or in the wee small hours of the morning when our households sleep.

For many, it's a ministry: our vehicle to proclaim the message of the One who holds our hand while we cling to those entrusted to us, who sustains us when we're sleep deprived and broken. Who gives us hope.

I remember that initial excitement, seven years ago, finding other women online who shared joys and struggles similar to mine within their own families.

But then corporate America discovered us. And the publishing industry. And the ranking game began again, just like in Mrs. Smith's first grade class.

This system is more subtle and rarely happens face-to-face. It might look like missed opportunities, sponsorships denied, sweet deals handed to the next blogger instead of you.

But sometimes it looks like paths paved by the work of our sisters, who've shown brands that consumers trust our voices, and publishers that women need them.

A million criteria exist to rank and pit us against each other—and as much as we resist, you and I will use every one of them—but thankfully God shows no such favoritism.

Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons:
But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.
~Acts 10:34-35

God views us as equals, cleansed by the blood of His son. Our merit is in Him, not the work of our hands.

If you've been given an online platform—a blog, a Facebook account, membership in an email group or online community—use it to elevate Him and let Him determine the opportunities it will produce.

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
~Matthew 6:33

Does online community sometimes make you feel like you're back in school, competing for rank and attention? How can we keep perspective, stay encouraged, and glorify Him?

{Download your September desktop calendar here.}

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home

[Judy Harder]

Close to the Broken-Hearted
Sep 09, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley



When I was pregnant with my first baby almost 12 years ago we joyfully announced it to our friends and among our church family.  I remember one Sunday as I walked through the halls at church I stopped one of my girlfriends on her way to the children's classrooms.

"Did you hear? We're expecting!" I was so excited. First baby, first morning sickness, first everything. She stopped and chatted and she, who'd already borne a few babies herself, shared some of her wisdom.

I told her that I was working, how I was feeling and what I was nervous about. In the course of the conversation, to allay a pregnant mother's fear of something, she waved her hand down and said, "Pshaw. People get pregnant and have babies every day; you'll be fine."

She didn't mean any ill, and perhaps it was the progesterone coursing through my veins or maybe one of her kids needed her in the children's church. Or maybe it was because God hadn't taught me radical grace yet, but I almost reeled in horror.

I thought, yes, people get pregnant every day but I don't get pregnant every day. How dare she reduce one of the biggest occurrences of my life to one that happens "all the time" to "everyone?" Isn't my experience special?

My grandmother is dying right now. And by the time these words go to post, that might even be inaccurate. I might be scanning Travelocity for plane tickets for a funeral.

Last Thursday after my mother had called me and said the word "hospice," I drove myself to the store and found myself weeping on the way. And I cursed myself because my grief surprised me. She's my grandmother, not my child or my sister or even my own mother or father. She's special to me and holds my history in her gnarled hands, but there is some distance, both geographically and emotionally.

Yet I wept.

And I began, mile by mile, to give myself the permission to grieve a death that is imminent but not yet occurred. I began to give myself the permission to recognize that grief, however small or big, is absolutely real and right to the person experiencing it.

Just visit a care facility: we age, our bodies and our minds break down, and we die. It happens every day. The pragmatic part of my heart tells me not to grieve from my core because this was always going to happen. The pragmatic part of my heart says that it's okay because things like this happen every day.

But it's happening to me. And it's happening to us. And to her.

And it really hurts.

And because of that it is special and close to the heart of God. Jesus tells us that not a sparrow falls that He is unaware of. And that He is close to the broken-hearted. He is even close to broken hearts that break when we don't want them to and hearts that break over griefs that may seem minor to the rest of the world.

So if you're a girl like me who somehow along the way hasn't given herself the permission to grieve even the small things, know that God grieves with you.

Or if you're a girl who grieves big and hard at both the minor and major things of life, know that your heart is precious to God.

And if you're a girl who is broken-hearted today whether or not you chose this or it chose you, please know that broken-heartedness is where we feel most drawn to Him.

Births and deaths happen every day, but the one that is in front of you right now is the most important in the universe to the God that created all of us.

Rest well in that and give yourself the permission to feel all that your heart has been created to feel.



Secure in an Uncertain Future (and Book Giveaway)
Sep 09, 2013 01:10 am | Stasi Eldredge



I was 22 years old when my father told me that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. We thought he was clear, done, finished. The CAT scans had told us the cancer had been defeated by the rigors of chemotherapy and radiation. I had shared the good report with my praying Bible study group to cheers.

But it was back. And there would be no reprieve this time. At the unwelcome news, I was no longer 22 years old but 6, and I crawled onto my father's lap and told him I was scared. He confessed to me that he was scared, too.

An unknown future. A fight for more years all but lost. What would this crossing over from this life to full LIFE entail? Many of you know. I will just say here that it was a painful, trying, grace filled five months that followed my father's confession. Yes, I will tell you that. I will also tell you that his last mumbled but well understood words to me were, "I love you."

Holy words that I treasure in my memory and in my heart.

I face an uncertain future today. I am 54 years old and though I am not facing cancer ravaging one I love, I do not know what awaits me beyond the moments of this very one I am living in. I am 54 years old, but I still feel at times 22 and yes, even 6. Change is on the wind and change always feels like loss. I want to climb up on my Daddy's lap and confess my fears.

So, in my spirit, in prayer, I do just that. Maybe you have a father who is still alive – in whom you are safe to confide your emotions. Maybe you don't. But whether you have one whom you can see and feel and trust, or like me, you do not, we all have a good and trustworthy Father waiting. Understanding. Caring. His arms are open to us, even his lap is open to us and though we do not know what is coming, He does. Though I am often uncertain or afraid, He never is.

I'm climbing up there for a while today. And I'm not climbing down. Not until I'm good and ready but when I am...I will still be held throughout every moment of this day and the unknown that is coming. I am held for the rest of my life. And so are you.


——————-

Stasi Eldredge is a wife, mom, women's ministry director, author and speaker who loves sharing the goodness of God with women. After becoming a Christian in college, Stasi joined Youth for Christ, heading up a ministry to pregnant teenagers and teen mothers. She's been active in ministry ever since, including theatre ministry, crisis pregnancy center ministry, women's ministry, and children's ministry.

Stasi loves the joy and freedom that comes from knowing the passionate, stunning love of Jesus Christ and lives to see others come to know him more deeply. She is co-author, with her husband John, of the bestselling book, Captivating, and the author of Becoming Myself: Embracing God's Dream of You. Connect with Stasi at RansomedHeart.com.


Today we're excited to give away five copies of Stasi's book, Becoming Myself: Embracing God's Dream of You.

Becoming Myself is a hope-filled book for anyone who wonders if her life will ever change—if she will ever change. In Stasi Eldredge's most intimate book yet, she shares her own struggles with self-worth, weight, and her past as she shows readers how God is faithfully unveiling who we truly are.

What do you do when life is uncertain? Share your answer in a comment to be entered to win a copy of Becoming Myself.

[Judy Harder]

Blessed Spaces

Feeling Guilty?
Sep 10, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst



I gathered the restaurant bags, sighed, and crammed them into the overstuffed trash can. A friend had sent me a recipe that day that involved peeling and chopping and simmering. I imagined her trash can full of fresh veggie peelings and other things that proved her kitchen produced way more homemade goodness than mine.

And a little thread of guilt wrapped around my heart.

Sometimes I feel more guilty for what I'm not than thankful for what I am.

But there was sweet grace waiting for me in a little yogurt shop that night. My daughter had asked if I would come and speak to a Bible study she was helping organize. "Mom, I think there are going to be a lot of people that show up."

So, instead of cooking that night I ordered out. Again. And drove to the yogurt shop with the girl whose heart was full of excitement and expectation.

People were everywhere. Young people. Invited people. And parents. Nearly 200 people packed inside the yogurt shop and overflowed outside. My daughter smiled.

I took the microphone and spoke from my heart. I told my story. I taught truth. I invited the people to let Jesus be the Lord of their hearts.

And many who had never done so said yes to God that night. A teen girl who had tried to commit suicide last year. She stood to accept Jesus. A young man with tears in his eyes. He stood to accept Jesus. A mom and a dad. They stood to accept Jesus. Along with many others.

In the yogurt shop.

With a woman whose trash can was filled with take-out bags.

A woman who isn't the greatest cook. But a woman who wants to learn to be more thankful for what I am than guilty for what I'm not.

Maybe you are the friend with the veggie peelings in the trash can and steaming homemade goodness on the table.

Celebrate that.

Or maybe you are like me. And your gifts are less tasty.

Celebrate that.

And cut the threads of guilt with the edge of grace.

By Lysa TerKeurst




Sep 10, 2013 01:10 am | Lora Armendariz



I hated waiting. I glanced out the window for the millionth time in the last half-hour and groaned. Where is he?

To this day my worst pet-peeve is waiting for people to show up to dinner. My mind will angrily scramble about with dozens of reasons for frustration whenever I'm forced to delay serving dinner. Dinner will get cold. Things won't taste the same. I'm hungry. Don't they understand how much work it is to get dinner on the table? It's so very rude not to show up on time.

Tonight was no different. My husband had to go out to another ranch to get some work done so I knew he would be late, but I was still angry about waiting.

I paced about, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I could watch TV, but I just wasn't in the mood. Perhaps a book? No, I was too agitated to sit still for that. A movie? Absolutely not! The moment I got fifteen minutes in my husband would no doubt show up and want me to rewind.

Going over to window again, I pulled the curtains out of the way and peered outside, willing the headlights to appear in the driveway. Nothing. I sighed. Somewhere in the back bedroom I heard the baby turn over in her crib, making a soft rustling sound. The house was quiet and still. I felt alone.

The heater next to the TV was on and I went over and floated my hands over the warm air. God, what am I supposed to do right now? My mind quickly answered before I even tried to listen to His response. Well, Lora, you know where your to-do list is...

God? What do I do with myself?

I closed my eyes and recognized that pull, that distinct draw from the Holy Spirit, communicating something from my Heavenly Father.

Spend some time with Me.

It came upon me in a wave of understanding. I hopped between tasks like a mad kangaroo each day, anxious to complete a million chores and accomplish a dozen goals. I didn't ignore God. After all, I had my daily devotional that I studiously pulled out with my coffee. I opened my Bible every Sunday, too. And I shot out prayers like popcorn all throughout my waking hours.

But when did I just sit down and chat with God? Not just pray, but also to listen?

I let out a breath and let the world fall to the background. I let my frustrated thoughts about dinner fade away and I spent some real time with the most important Man of my life. In those blessed minutes He filled me with peace and His grace, and I was reminded of how loved I am by Him. When the sound of the front door brought me back to reality, I acknowledged it with a peaceful smile. I could almost see God smiling back and saying, "Lora, I'm always here, you know."

And He is always there, waiting and willing us to turn to him in those quiet moments so we will hear his voice. It might be a few seconds as I wait in line at the bank or watch the microwave spin a plate during its cycle. But why look at those moments as wasted time when we could be letting God fill up those blessed spaces.

Dear, Lord, help me find those spaces you blessedly leave unfilled so I can spend some time with you.

by Lora Armendariz, Everyday Miracles