Every year, we host an Easter egg hunt at the house for the family. What started when the kids were just toddlers continues now into adulthood. In fact, there are now two Easter egg hunts, one for the kids and one for the “kids at heart.”  

Some years in West Michigan, the daffodils are blooming. Other years there is still ice and snow on the ground. Either way, the tradition is the same. Plastic eggs filled with jelly beans (my favorite!), chocolate kisses, pennies, maybe a dollar bill in some. The grand prize in our home is a special golden egg for the adult hunt, usually with a bit more than one dollar hidden inside. 

But a few years ago, I changed things up. 

I sent the adults into the backyard but kept the golden egg in my pocket. They spread out quickly, checking the fence line, under the bushes, in the nooks and crannies of the porch—focused and certain that the prize had to be hidden someplace tough. 

After a few minutes, I dropped the golden egg right in the middle of the yard in plain sight. No one saw it. 

After a few minutes, my seven-year old grandson Louis couldn’t hold in his excitement. “Guys, guys! The golden egg is right there!” he said pointing to the egg. The hunt now over, we all had a good laugh.   

I’ve been thinking about that moment as I celebrate Easter this year. The egg was not hard to find; it was in plain sight. Yet, everyone missed it because they were convinced they knew where it should be.  

In John 20, Mary Magdalene stands outside the empty tomb, grieving and crying. Jesus stands right next to her, and she does not recognize him. Mary isn’t distracted or too far away, she just did not expect to see him show up like that. 

I wonder how often we do the same thing with Jesus in our lives? How often, in the busyness and routine of our day-to-day do we miss Him? We look for Jesus in the big, life-changing moments. Meanwhile, His presence shows up in the quiet places—not hidden, just unexpected moments of grace and peace, often in plain sight.

This season is stretching me. I’m quickly wrapping up a school year while continuing to walk with my adult children through some really tough situations. I’m feeling the tears and the anxiety in my own life. These are the moments that bring me to my knees in prayer. Yet, Jesus is showing up in meaningful ways through other areas of my life. For example, soon I’ll be watching my students walk across the stage at graduation—some of whom almost dropped out. Through their journeys, I see God’s faithfulness in how they’ve overcome those earlier challenges.

I see Jesus through a recent interaction with my son. He sent me a panicked text in ALL CAPS about his schedule for next semester. But when we talked later, there was a calm steadiness in his voice as he made a decision and took his next steps—revealing evidence of God's continued formation in his life.

And I see Jesus on Wednesday mornings when I sit with a group of men who show up in unexpected ways to study Scripture and pray, reminding me that we can carry each other’s burdens and look to the Lord for hope.

So, this week look closer for the “egg” sitting right in front of you. Chances are, it’s not hidden in some faraway place but right there in plain sight. Because Jesus often shows up where we least think to look. We simply need to slow down, be open, and see how Jesus shows up again and again and again. 

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“Can we pray for you?” 

This is the question a group of women I didn’t know approached me with that day.  

It was August 13, 2021, and I had organized a rally in the community. This was out of character for me. Until then, I was simply a stay-at-home mom, content with a quiet life focused on raising my kids. Public advocacy was not something on my bucket list. Up until that point the only faith I held was that, if there was a God, he didn’t involve himself with us. It was up to humanity to make the world a better place, and the best way to do that was to simply be kind to one another and not impose our personal preferences on anyone else. 

But something about that time caused my worldview to shift. Things I once believed were right suddenly felt wrong. I found myself challenging my own convictions and beginning to agree with people I formerly opposed. I began to recognize a brokenness I’d never noticed before. And I felt compelled to gather the community together to show that many shared the same concerns I did.  

Yet, while the lens with which I began to view the world started to change, my view of God did not. So, when this group of women approached me to ask, “Can we pray for you?” I found myself immediately in a predicament. Do I tell them that even though we may agree on some things, that doesn’t mean I’m a holy roller like them? Do I tell them I don’t really believe prayer works? That we really can’t be sure God even exists?  

I didn’t end up saying any of those things (out loud anyway!) but instead chose the smoother path of saying, “Sure.” After all, these ladies kindly came to my rally, and I didn’t want to be rude. But I’d be lying if I said I accepted without a very discreet eye roll. 

The group of women then put their hands on me and began to pray out loud (oh no, laying of hands, even more awkward!). I don’t remember what they said, but what I do remember is this: I felt SOMETHING in that moment. I don’t know how to explain it…it was an actual physical feeling inside my body. After they walked away, I clearly remember thinking, “Wow, that was powerful.” This reaction caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to feel so moved.  

However, after that day I didn’t think more about it and life went on. But here’s the crazy thing: shortly after that time I began to find myself drawing closer to God. I didn’t have an overnight conversion, and I can’t pinpoint a specific moment when I finally said “yes” to Jesus. But what I do know is that today, I’m on fire for the Lord and am committed to keeping Christ at the center of everything I do.  

When I look back at that time, I can’t help but wonder, was it the Holy Spirit entering my life in that moment of prayer? I don’t know. Maybe I never will. But what I do know is that my perspective on God changed dramatically shortly after that encounter with those ladies. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them, because their boldness in praying for me may very well have changed the trajectory of my faith. These perfect strangers will forever hold a place in my personal testimony. 

Have you ever asked someone, "Can I pray for you?" or has someone asked this question of you? Don’t underestimate the power of this simple request. Prayer can and does make a difference, even though you may never see it. You never know when God might work through you to touch a heart, change a life, or spark a faith that adds a new member to God’s Kingdom. Be brave enough to ask, and humble enough to receive, because sometimes that simple invitation to pray can truly have an impact on someone. One that lasts for eternity.  

It certainly did for me. And I will never forget it. 

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“I’m tired.” 

It’s a standard response to the friendly “How are you?” we hear from friends and acquaintances. As believers, we know we have work created just for us. Yet I don’t believe the same God who established the Sabbath intended for us to move through life in a constant state of exhaustion. 

There’s no end to the ways we can spend our time. Every person we love and every relationship we invest in requires something from us. Every community we’re part of—church, school, neighborhood, workplace—depends, at least in part, on our willingness to show up and serve. And that’s before we even consider the endless stream of entertainment available at our fingertips. 

I’ve found myself in seasons of burnout and resentment when I overcommit. I genuinely want to help, and if I’m honest, I often feel honored to be asked. Saying “yes” comes naturally. But every “yes” carries a hidden “no.” Have I said “no” to time with Jesus? Have I neglected my physical or mental health? Have my commitments crowded out any hope for true rest? 

I was well established in my career, marriage, and parenthood before I seriously considered observing Sabbath. But as my life has grown fuller, I’ve come to see how essential it is to intentionally set aside time for rest. 

God, in His wisdom, gave us the Sabbath not only as a gift of rest, but as an invitation to pause, to trust, and to be renewed in Him. While many Christians observe Sabbath on Sunday, it’s less about the specific day and more about the practice itself. What matters is setting aside intentional time each week that is truly restful (and no, tackling your to-do list doesn’t count!). 

What feels restful will look different for each person. Someone who works with their hands all week may not find yard work refreshing, while someone in a desk job might. For me, stepping away from the noise, especially the pull of constant entertainment or the internet, has become an important part of Sabbath rest. 

If this practice is new to you, start small and build toward a full 24 hours. Don’t get caught up in the rules you may have learned growing up. Instead, ask what rhythms bring joy, peace, and true renewal. When opportunities come your way, give yourself space before responding. A simple “Let me pray about it” or “I’ll get back to you” can help you choose wisely instead of reacting quickly. 

Protecting a rhythm of rest is vital for your physical and emotional well-being. But even more than that, Sabbath is an invitation to draw near to God. When we lay down our work, we remember that everything doesn’t depend on us. We make space to delight in His goodness, to notice His presence, and to receive what only He can give. And in that space, we don’t just recover; we are restored. 

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Right now, I am studying the book of Acts, where Paul walks the narrow road toward Christ, experiencing suffering, hardship, imprisonment, and persecution along the way. A Roman citizen and former persecutor himself, Paul’s miraculous conversion to Christianity brings trouble from both religious and governing authorities—so much so that he is taken to a secure place until he can stand trial for the accusations he faces from Jewish leaders. As Paul sits in wait, the Lord appears. It’s here, in this moment, that I find a great deal of encouragement for all of us.

In this time of waiting, the Lord stood near and spoke to Paul. What a powerful image. In the middle of noise and uncertainty, God’s presence was not distant or distracted. It was personal, steady, and near. What a beautiful picture of comfort, peace, and protection.  

And that is what makes this moment in Acts so deeply relevant for us. The Lord who stood beside Paul in the barracks, strengthening him for what lay ahead, is the same Lord who meets us in our stories. Whatever you may be facing today, whether that’s excitement for the day ahead or dread, take courage and continue moving forward with faith and obedience. I know I'm preaching to the choir here; my own heart has often needed this reminder. As family, friends, and members of my community share difficult, sorrowful, and even joyful news, I find myself wrestling; wrestling with the weight of it all, trying to reconcile the majesty and goodness of God with the suffering and brokenness of this world. And it is here, in this tension, that this passage in Acts has been speaking so tenderly and graciously to me. 

I serve the same God that Paul did, and that same God is encouraging me, stepping into my own brokenness, and asking me to trust Him in what He’s called me to. This God who stands in hardship, stands in the waiting, stands near to all of us. He calls us to continue on the narrow road, to take courage, and to move in obedience closer to Him and what He’s called us to. 

So, if life feels heavy and burdensome—maybe you’re facing a broken relationship, medical test results, or struggling to just get dinner on the table—remember that the Lord stands near and He is with you. And in the moments when you feel joyful and full of gratitude, keep moving forward in courage, pursuing what He’s called you to, and soak up His comfort, peace, and protection that can only come from being in relationship with Jesus.

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I don’t know what it is about certain foods, but often the green ones tend to find their way in between my teeth. Before I know it, I have  been talking to people and smiling all day with a massive piece of broccoli stuck in between the most prominent parts of my grill. That is why, I believe it is very important for everyone to have a “broccoli checker.” 

This is a trusted friend who honestly and lovingly (and discretely!) tells you like it is when they see you’ve got food in your teeth (or any other unsightly thing going on in your appearance). You must invite the person first. Choose wisely. You’ve invited them in to tell you when they see the thing that you cannot see. Why? Not to judge you, not to make you feel less than, by any means, but to keep you from unnecessary embarrassment. I suppose this is also called an accountability partner, but broccoli checker is funnier. 

Now, let’s take this a step further. God, our creator, knows everything about us. He knows our thoughts. He knows the root of our anxiety. He knows why we feel bitterness, anger, resentment, hostility...all of it. He GETS us! He sees the deepest part of ourselves that we cannot see. So, it just makes sense to ask HIM if there is any “broccoli in our teeth.” In other words, anything offensive that everyone else can see that we cannot. He is our safe place. He will tell us the truth with love and grace…and He does that for the SAME reason that we would want our trusted friend to tell us when we are “lookin’ a fool”! Not to judge, not to belittle, but to keep us from ridicule and shame and to lead us to a place of freedom…yes, a lot more freedom than broccoli jammed between your pearly whites. 

Be brave today and ask him. Ask him to search your heart to make sure it’s clean and “broccoli free.” It’s a bit like standing on a scale after a holiday weekend, but truly it is the best way to begin your journey to freedom…yes, more than freedom from a smile full of greens, but freedom to be exactly who He has created you to be. 

I remember several times as a child going to summer church camp. The camp was named after a lake on the property, so most of the activities centered around it. But, to participate in all of the fun water activities, you had to pass a swim test. It was pretty straight forward—tread water for a certain amount of time, swim a lap—no big deal. But if you wanted to do the more exciting activities like the water slide or the diving boards, the test required you to jump off the high dive (with the additional bonus of earning a really cool bracelet that let everyone at camp know that you were not a wuss. I like to think of it as positive peer pressure!).  

I had never taken the big jump before, and it scared the living daylights out of me. However, I found myself climbing those fateful steps all the way to the top. Now I knew that in reality the high dive wasn’t dangerous. The camp had made sure that there were no rocks or logs under the water, it was plenty deep, and they had a lifeguard at the top to make sure I waited to jump at the right time. So, when I put my foot on the first ladder rung I felt in charge. “It’s not that high, I’m jumping in feet first, it will be no big deal!” But, the further up I went, the more scared and anxious I became. Fear began to creep in; "Why am I doing this? This is so much higher than I thought it was! I might really hurt myself. How long am I going to be falling for?” 

As I stepped off the ladder and onto the platform, my heart was pounding out of my chest. Everything inside me wanted to turn around and go back down. I thought for sure I would probably be the first casualty of the high dive and my tragic demise would become fireside fodder for years to come. But then I heard the encouraging voice of the life guard, “ You can do this! You are brave! Just think about all of the fun stuff you are going to be able to do this week because you took the leap!” It was just what I needed to hear. I trusted the lifeguard. After all, he had seen plenty of other nervous kids jump off and survive. His voice gave me the courage to take a deep breath, plug my nose, and take the leap.  

Honestly, it was scary, but it was also exhilarating and I didn’t just survive, it opened up the a door to all the other fun activities that I was able to do! Plus, I showed my friends coming up the ladder behind me that they could do it too. 

There are times in my adult life when I still feel the “high dive” moment. The anxiety that comes up when I know God is prompting me to do something, but it makes me feel uncomfortable, nervous, or stressed. My thoughts run wild with all of the reasons that I should get off the platform and get somewhere that is safe and comfortable. But then I remind myself to listen for God’s voice, because I know I can fully trust Him and His Word.  

Like when God was telling me to move on to a different job. Scary and unknown at the time, but after taking a leap of faith I had so much peace realizing the new job was just what I needed. Or the hard conversation that needed to be had. I could think of a million reasons not to have it, but then that still small voice of the Holy Spirit broke through, whispering, “I know this seems scary, and you are worried about what the other person will say, but you know in the long run if you trust me and have faith things will be so much better.” And you know what? Things were better, just as He said. 

The Good News of God’s Word is that He is true, He is trustworthy, and he makes things that seem impossible to me, possible. The same is true for you, too. When we allow ourselves to be led by God’s prompting and strength, we can do hard things because we “can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  

So if you are struggling with your own "high dive" situation, take a deep breath, plug your nose, and take the leap. You never know what exciting things God may have in store for you! 

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As believers it can be frustrating when people say that science doesn’t show evidence for God. In fact, some believe that science and God are incompatible all together.  

But are they? 

The Oxford Dictionary defines science as, “The systematic study of the structure and behavior of the physical and natural world through observation, experimentation, and the testing of theories against the evidence obtained.” 

This definition feels a bit…clunky (at least to me!), so I'll take a shot at rephrasing in a way that is a little easier to follow. In very basic terms, science uses a process of carefully repeated experiments to see if the same outcome occurs each time. If it does, then scientists come up with a conclusion or theory based on that consistent outcome. The formal name of this process is the “scientific method.” 

But here’s the thing. While the scientific method has yet to provide any physical evidence that God exists, proof of God can be found in the scientific method itself.  

Wait, what?  

Hear me out.  

See, scientists recognize that natural patterns occur, and this is why they can count on controlled experiments to reveal what those patterns are. In fact, even without the scientific method regular people like you and me can still see predictable outcomes all over the place.  

For example, we know that when we are hungry, our stomachs begin to hurt so when we eat something (ideally pizza or nachos, but food in general will suffice!), that ache goes away and we feel better. Because we’ve experienced this same cycle over and over again, we know that eating is the solution for silencing our rumbling tummies. 

We know that every morning we can count on the sunrise at a precise time, and we also know that the sun will set at a precise time as well.  

We even know that when we leave our cereal sitting in a bowl of milk too long it becomes mushy (which I love! Just me?!).  

The point is, what are the chances that natural, predictable patterns happen by random chance? If I had a bag of Scrabble tiles and dumped them on the table, what is the likelihood that they would land in a way that spelled out “You rock!"? I suppose it could happen once, but EVERY time I dumped them out? No way. Someone would intentionally have to put them in that specific arrangement. 

Do you see where I’m going? Science’s entire method of fact-finding relies on identifying predictable patterns, yet it cannot explain why the patterns exist in the first place. In fact, to determine what causes predictable patterns, scientists would have to depend on predictable patterns to find the answer, leading us back to the original question about what causes predictable patterns to begin with (and around and around we go)!  

In other words, even science must acknowledge that the same outcome occurring not just repeatedly but predictably at random is pretty much impossible. Something must be making it all happen.  

Or as we know, someone.  

That’s something the scientific method will never be able to tell us, but the Bible already has. Evidence of God is all around us, all the time. Science can show us how things happen, but many times it can’t tell us why they happen. That’s where faith steps in. God’s fingerprints are woven into everything we see, from sunrise and sunsets to tummy grumbles and mushy cereal. Recognizing that isn’t a rejection of science—it’s seeing science through the lens of a Creator who is consistent, reliable, and good.

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One of my favorite stories in the Bible is Jesus walking on the water. But what strikes me most about Matthew 14 isn't Jesus walking on water—it's Peter sinking, and what happens next that helps us walk in faith. 

After Jesus feeds the 5,000, he sends the disciples off in a boat. In the middle of the night, a storm rages on the Sea of Galilee. The disciples struggle to stay afloat in the chaos. I imagine the rough seas, the rain, the wind blowing the sails. 

I see similar storms in my own life. Right now, I'm working through decisions my adult children are making that I don't always agree with. Work and snow days are causing chaos. My social media feed is post after post of people fighting. My extended family and I are on different sides of some issues. The really cold days and cloudy skies are NOT helping. The storms seem to be all around. 

But then out of the chaos, Jesus appears. Peter calls out, and Jesus invites Peter to step out of the boat and walk toward him...on the water. Peter takes one step, then another, and with his eyes on Jesus, he begins to walk on water. 

I've had these experiences of complete trust, too. Like when I have a really good conversation with my son or I get to sleep in on a snow day. Times when projects and plans are coming together. Like Peter, in those moments I feel like I'm "walking on the water.” 

Then—a drop of rain hits Peter. Then another. Peter takes his eyes off Jesus and begins to sink. Jesus reaches out his hand and catches him. Immediately. 

Not after a lecture. Not after Peter proves he's learned his lesson. The moment Peter cries out "Lord, save me!"—Jesus is there, but asks, “Why did you doubt?” 

Jesus asks Peter this question, and honestly, I wonder about it too. Why did Peter doubt? He'd just been walking on water! He'd seen Jesus calm storms, feed thousands, heal the sick. 

But here's what I'm learning: we are all like Peter, aren’t we? Doubt doesn't come from lack of evidence. It comes when we take our eyes off Jesus and look at the storms around us instead. But here’s the good news; Jesus doesn't require perfect faith. He reaches out immediately when our faith falters. 

I'm on my knees every day about my adult children. I'm focused on Christ, praying about the steps they're taking. But then I take my eyes off Jesus and begin to doubt. I look around and feel the raindrops and see the storms, and I get distracted. Can you relate?  

The question isn't whether we'll doubt—Peter doubted, and he was walking on water with Jesus right in front of him. The question is: will we cry out when we do? 

Jesus doesn't need you to have great faith. He can work with little faith. He can work with sinking-and-scared faith. What he wants is for you to keep your eyes on him, and when you can't, to cry out for help. 

Right now, whatever storm you're in—Jesus is reaching out his hand. He's not waiting for you to have it all figured out. He's reaching out now. Immediately. 

The only question is: will you reach back? 

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I am an extremely auditory person, meaning my brain seems to process what I hear above anything else. Growing up in school the best way for me to remember something was to hear it. One of my first college professors made the mistake of telling the class that the exam questions would come from the book. So of course, most of the students stopped attending class, but I was always there. She told me one day how grateful she was that I showed up, but for me it was a matter of necessity. I knew I would remember the material if I heard her lectures versus just reading the book.  

On the flip side of learning by hearing, this also means that I am very vocal (aka: I talk…A LOT!). I process my thoughts best when I am talking them through…out loud. I talk to myself when I'm writing (yes, I talked while writing this blog), studying for a test, processing complex budget issues, thinking about what to make for dinner…EVERYTHING. I am the weird lady you see walking down the street talking to herself. Something my kids remind me of often.  

In other words, after this very wordy explanation, being “quick to listen and slow to speak” isn’t exactly my strong suit.  

When I hear something I disagree with, my brain and mouth immediately spring into action, building my argument before the other person is even done talking. Even if my friend is telling a great story, words start spilling out of my mouth describing how the “the same thing just happened to me!” And I’m pretty sure my husband needs my help finishing his stories and sometimes even sentences (he really loves that). 

Apparently, my motto is “speak now, listen later,” but as my pastor used to say, “If God and I disagree, I better change my answer.” 

At this point in my 40-something year journey, I have been learning the hard lessons of what meaningful connection is. What it means to help another person feel seen, heard, and cared for. To learn how to close my mouth long enough to hear their side of the story and not just assume it. We all know what happens when we assume.  

Being quick to listen means I want to hear where you are coming from, that I want to hear the intention of your heart and promising that I am not going to interrupt you with my version of how the blanks should be filled in. Nine times out of 10, my version will be wrong anyway. It is an action of knowing, understanding, and truly connecting with another person.  Being slow to speak means that I am not immediately trying to justify my thoughts and feelings so I can save face, prove to everyone how smart I am, or that my story is the funniest thing anyone has ever heard. It is a humbleness of heart to put my thoughts second so someone else can be first for a change.  

Holding my tongue and truly listening are especially important when it comes to my “human anger.” Nothing gets me talking louder and faster than when I perceive that I have been disrespected or ignored (just ask my kids when they don’t empty the dishwasher...I’m a work in progress!). But perception is a tricky thing, and it can really get me in trouble…there I go filling in the blanks again.  

After all, Satan really wants me to think the worst of people, to misread intentions, and to accuse them of thoughts they never even had. I can almost hear the whisper in my ear, “You know they did that to annoy you. They just don’t even care.” His goal is the great disconnect, from God and each other. Just like Eve, he wants me to believe the lie that God does not have my best interest at heart and neither does anyone else.  

But what if I was slow to speak? What if I actually gave myself the time to reflect on why this thing that was done or said made me so angry, and in turn took that to God and talked to him about it? What if I was quick to listen to His voice and connect with His true heart of love and wisdom? My guess is that when it was my turn to talk, it would come out in a different way. That I would seek truth and perspective and not just to prove my point. That my words would “be good and helpful, and an encouragement to those who heard them” (Ephesians 4:29). And if an unjust act against me was truly made, I could confront it in a way that was seasoned with grace and the Holy Spirit and not from my own flesh.  

At the end of the day, it’s ok that I talk a lot. After all, that’s how God made me. But if I can learn to listen more, especially to God’s voice, when I do speak it will bring life. This walk with Christ is a daily journey of transformation and dying to my old self. But I am learning to change my answer because I know that God’s way is always right. 

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Imagine being in prison. Day in, day out, in chains. Day after day, month after month, year after year feeling that weight pull on your wrists, your ankles, and around your waist. Sure, after awhile you’d grow stronger so the chains don’t feel as heavy, and you might grow used to it. Yet, they continue to be there, holding you in place, keeping you from going where you want to go and always pulling you back to where they are fixed.  

I’ve never been to prison, but I have worn chains. Chains not of steel or iron but made of an addiction to alcohol. Those chains anchored me to a bottle the way a prisoner is anchored to the walls of their cell. I couldn’t leave. I had been a drinker my entire adult life, and it’s how people knew me. It may sound absurd, but back then I was afraid of who I would be if I ever did manage to quit. Who would I hang out with? Where would I go? What would I do for fun?  

You see, back then I thought drinking was my identity. That I couldn’t be myself without it.  

Enter Jesus: The Chain Breaker.  

In September of 2019, I went to church with open eyes and an open heart for the first time. Through discipleship with mentors, reading my Bible, and a lot of prayer I started to understand what Christians mean when they say, “Jesus saves.” It's not just a statement about eternity but about his saving grace for our lives, right here and right now.  

My relationship with Jesus taught me that HE makes my identity. He offered to break the chains that tied me to a bottle of whiskey, and he helped me become the person he knit me together to be. Jesus showed me that I, like all his children, had many spiritual gifts that he would use. But there was a catch…I couldn’t put the chains he had broken back on.  

We’re all like that, aren’t we? Jesus frees us, breaks the chains that make us slaves to temptation and addiction, but we still have such a hard time keeping them off. Sometimes we miss the weight we were so used to carrying that we try to pick them up again. But, the thing is, once those chains are broken, we are given a new identity with Jesus, and he has permanently removed those chains through his finished work on the cross. They are replaced by The Holy Spirit who empowers us to leave those chains behind and allow our faith to be reflected through the new lives we live.  

Maybe it’s not alcohol for you, maybe it’s something else; binging on Netflix, doom scrolling on social media, shopping without limits, or some other temptation/addiction. No matter what it is, Jesus will set you free if you put your faith in him. Simply focus on him, focus on his word, and let him show you how he can use the gifts he’s given you. Step into the new creation he made you to be. Because of him, the chains are broken...not temporarily or conditionally, but forever! Walk forward in the freedom he has given you trusting that the same power that broke those chains is the same power that will keep you free.

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Many of us get a glimpse of this on Sunday mornings in church whenever we gather in pews and worship alongside fellow believers. For an hour, maybe two, we have the opportunity to immerse ourselves in worship and praise to the Lord. But what about on Monday morning in our homes? Do you find yourself shouting for joy to the Lord and singing praises to the Almighty God? How about in the 9 to 5 in your workplace? Or on Friday night when the week is over and you're tired and worn out?

I can admit that often I get stuck in the mundane routine of life where I’m not proactively practicing what it looks like to praise the glorious name of Jesus. I have found that when things are going well, when I’m happy and healthy, when my family is happy and healthy, taking the time to praise and worship God is not something on the forefront of my mind. However, the minute things get hard, I find myself on my knees crying out to the Lord and worshipping him wholeheartedly. Can you relate to this feeling? 

I have also been in seasons full of rejoicing, celebration, and living in answered prayers, where praise and worship come easy because life is so good! But in a moment, grief, loneliness, and heartache appear and suddenly the praise and worship fade from my lips. Have you found yourself here?

Wherever you are on this spectrum, know that you are in good company. The people of God knew these feelings all too well. The Israelites knew these feelings all too well. David, the author of many of the psalms, knew these feelings all too well. 

Psalm 66 is truly beautiful. If you can, take the time to read the whole Psalm. In Psalm 66:10-12, 20 the writer says, “For you, God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our backs. You let people ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance [...] Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me!”

The people of God throughout history have been through times of weeping and mourning as well as times of rejoicing. One thing that we can learn from them is that the Lord always invites us to worship Him in every season, in every feeling, and we are welcome to bring it to Him. He is with us through it all. We serve a God who tests us, refines us, and brings us through valleys and mountaintops to a beautiful place. The God we serve does not withhold his love from us and He is worthy of all our praise no matter what we face. 

So whatever season you are in, find ways to glorify the Lord, to shout his praise, and to take comfort in knowing there is something hopeful and holy in our future where one day we will join the angels, the elders, and the heavenly creatures singing his praises “Day and night they never stop saying: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,’ who was, and is, and is to come” (Revelation 4:8).

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Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.—Philippians 3:10-14  

My youngest is starting to learn animal sounds. You know, “What does a dog say?” Woof. “What does a cat say?” Meow. She gets it right about half the time. Sometimes she just laughs back at us. You know what though? I don’t ever get mad at her for trying. I’m not disappointed that she can’t perfectly mimic the sound of a dog. I’m just thrilled she’s trying. I LOVE that I get to teach her, and I know she is growing, learning, and taking it all in.  

If I’m honest, we’re all kind of like my daughter; constantly working to perfect areas we want to get better at. I mean, I feel like I could fill an entire notebook with things I need to do to be a better wife, mom, co-worker, and friend. I could fill 100 notebooks with areas I would like to grow in my walk with Jesus! But sometimes, I forget that it can take time and a lot of mistakes for that growth to take place. 

Philippians 3:10-14 is my “life verse.” My centering point. My mission. When things feel crazy and I have no idea where I’m going, I look back on these verses to check myself. Am I living in a way that is in pursuit of really “knowing the power” of Christ? To “take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me?” 

I have always read this as a state of constant straining towards perfection (I mean, “straining toward what is ahead” is even in the passage!). But God’s Word doesn’t return empty, and His Spirit is at work in me. So, when I read the passage, THIS time you know what I see? My daughter, fumbling through and incorrectly responding that a horse says “argghaaa.” I see my heavenly Father seeing me just as I see her; recognizing my desire to learn and grow and giving me gentle correction when I stumble along the way. I see Him looking at me as a beloved child, not as someone who isn’t doing enough, hasn’t accomplished enough, or isn’t getting there fast enough. Just as I don’t view my daughter this way, my Father doesn’t view His children this way either. 

So maybe instead of being frustrated that I haven’t mastered being a mom, or a wife, or the “ideal Christian” (which, let’s be real...we are all sinners saved by grace being conformed into Christ’s likeness by HIS work, not ours), I’m going to return to this passage in Philippians. And when I find myself worried that God’s upset with my slow progress, I will remember that while He is always watching, He’s not frustrated that I haven’t mastered it yet. He is pleased—pleased that I’m trying to learn from Him, pleased that I’m trying to take it all in, pleased that I want to grow. Because when I trust in my Father’s love for me, it is then that I will let go of the straining toward perfection and surrender to the process of becoming who I already am in Christ. 

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Are you ever frustrated with your own bad habits and sin patterns? Have you ever thought you finally had something under control, only to lapse once more?  

I am firmly in middle age, and sometimes I can’t believe I am still circling around the same old sins: perfectionism, pride, a need for control, impatience, and a bad habit of interrupting. I like to think I’ve improved with age, but sometimes I am not sure that’s true!  

Perfectionism in my teen years looked like hours of homework and studying, with the unreasonable expectation of knowing all the answers all the time. That carried on into my college years. When I added the job title Resident Advisor to my life, I almost buckled under the pressure and spent an entire semester of my senior year in tears. I wanted—no, expected—to be the best at my job and the best at all my classes. I simply couldn’t fathom doing a less-than-stellar job at anything (even down to the bulletin boards!). This meant I spent more time and energy on pretty much all aspects of my job, even though my coworkers were clearly fine with doing less.

In comparison to college, my working life felt a little easier but the sins of the leaders in my job and some of my clients left me disillusioned. By the grace of God (this is another blog post!) I landed in a job that I loved and thrived in for many years. But I felt the nudging of the Holy Spirit to quit completely and spend the next few years as a full-time at-home parent. 

While that decision benefited my children, ultimately, I suspect God had ulterior motives of His own. Without my job and my work defining me, I really had to examine my identity. If I wasn’t known for my accomplishments, then who exactly was I? God challenged me to be secure in my identity as His child even without visible achievements applauded by the world. 

A decade later, I think I can safely say perfectionism is much less of an issue for me than ever before. And that seems to have been the cue for the listening struggles to be brought to my attention! The fact I often interrupt and try to complete people’s sentences was gently shared by one of the people closest to me. I was immediately filled with shame. I couldn’t believe I was completely unaware of such a significant pattern that was negatively affecting those I love most. I was crushed by this revelation. 

But what I am starting to see is that God, in His infinite wisdom, knows the pace at which we can learn, grow, and change. I think for most of us, that pace is much slower than we’d like. Perhaps now that I’ve matured in some areas, God can begin work in new areas of my life. It’s uncomfortable for me, but I can trust that my loving Father is still carrying on the good work He began in me. And that work will have me always growing and changing, so I can become more and more like Him in how I live and love. 

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Welcome to the new year!      

I’m grateful for another year, excited and eager to see all that God is going to do, and yet I don’t like thinking about the future. All this talk about New Year’s resolutions; how to make this year better than the last and setting expectations for the year ahead. I’m not a dreamer, so I wrestle with this conversation. Add to that all the demands we’re coming out of from the holiday season—work obligations, church commitments, Christmas shopping (making sure I didn’t forget anyone!), getting to all the gatherings...trying to think of ways to improve myself, my family, and my life sounds exhausting! The last thing I want to do is create a plan for yet another thing I need to achieve. Maybe you can relate.  

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a good to-do list (I just don’t need more on it!). And I do deeply admire people who are ambitious about their New Year's resolutions. However, when it comes to achieving more and adding more tasks to my plate, for me it feels less like growth and more like noise. So this year, I am praying this simple prayer from Psalm 25 to help release me from my “resolution paralysis.”        

Originally a psalm that David wrote, Psalm 25 is a prayer for guidance, protection, trust, and patience; all things I need to be reminded of as I transition from one year to another:  

Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.

How comforting! In all the hustle and bustle of the season, the new year begins with excitement, nervousness, exhaustion, and yet, this verse provides reassurance that I don’t need to make my own path. I don’t need to lead myself. I don’t need to hope in myself, in my own strength, in my own will, because I have hope in the Lord. Without looking to Him, I am paralyzed in the unknowns, stuck in the exhaustion of life, and consumed with the full schedule I have. If I look to myself, I have no direction, no way to achieve my goals, and no clear path to pursue. I need Him to show me the way, to teach me the plan He has for me this year. If I don’t want to be disappointed and heartbroken, then my trust must always be in Jesus, nothing else. Because his Word is the source of life and hope in everything.  

So as you begin a new year, when new expectations begin to feel overwhelming—whether they come from within or from others—look to Jesus. Psalm 25 gives us permission to let go of our own plan, our own way, our own path, and to focus on the One who is ultimately in control. Find rest in knowing that as you pray, worship, and spend time in His Word. He will faithfully make His plan for you clear in the days ahead.

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I love pancakes. I love my dog. I love my husband. And I love naps. 

But do I love these things in the same way? We often use the term “love” so casually it’s easy to miss the weight behind it. By treating love so lightly, are we reducing it from something sacred to something shallow? And is there a risk in doing so? After all, I just equally applied the word love to both my husband and something that originates from a box of Bisquick.  

When I stop and reflect, I realize that when I look to the world to define what love is, it’s tied directly to my emotions. I claim to “love” something because it gives me pleasure in some way. But if love were only dependent on something that makes me feel good or happy, then its presence in my life would come and go as quickly as the final bite on my breakfast plate. I’d be engaged in an endless cycle of chasing after things that stir up the “love” inside, only to have the feeling fade, leading me to find something new to love all over again (actually, once upon a time, that’s exactly what I did…but that’s a story for another day). 

However, like everything else in life, if I truly want to understand love, I should not look to the world but to God’s Word to find clarity. And while the entire Bible reveals God’s incredible mercy and love for us, the birth of Christ demonstrates just how powerful love really is. 

At Christmas, we encounter a love beyond our understanding. God, the incomprehensible Creator of all things, left His throne in the perfect heavenly realm to come to earth to be born in the form of a human baby. Not just any baby, but a baby born without prestige or wealth or material things (a baby whose first cradle was literally an animal food trough!). A baby whose destiny was not just to minister to the lost and broken, but to also be executed on a cross by the very people He came to serve.  

When I look at God’s example of love, I realize it isn’t inward-facing, as I often assume—it’s outward-facing. Love is stepping down from our own place to meet others where they are. It’s serving when we might rightly be served. It’s sacrificing ourselves for the benefit of someone else. In other words, love is not a feeling, it’s an action. It’s putting another’s needs above our own, even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or undeserved—not because it makes us feel good, but because it is what God did for us.  

This Christmas, chances are you’ll likely encounter someone who stirs up strong emotions—a spouse, a family member, or someone in your circle whose views greatly differ from your own. While love driven by feelings may serve us well when life is easy, it can be hard to find when faced with someone who challenges our patience and goodwill. But as we celebrate the birth of Jesus, we are reminded that love is not what people do or give to us, but what we can do or give to others. In those moments, loving like Christ becomes the most meaningful gift we can offer; one that can change lives, heal hearts, and point others toward the one who loves us perfectly. 

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“I’ve got the joy, joy, joy down in my heart!” Did you ever sing that song as a kid? I sure did, and I remember signing it with very loud enthusiasm. I loved it, because not only did I get to sing it, but I also got to shout “WHERE?! Down in my heart to stay!” As a kid you take any opportunity to shout in church. Such a simple, fun little song, but those two phrases sure do say a lot. I have joy deep down in my heart, and it’s going to stay there.  

Wow, how does joy get so deep in the fiber of my heart that it becomes unmovable? 

That feels like a pretty big question for a kids’ song.  

I’ll be honest in my own story as a kid finding joy wasn’t that hard. I always had clothes to wear and plenty of food to eat. If I fell down and scraped my knee, my parents picked me up and cured it with a Band-Aid and a hug. If I had a bad dream at night my dad would come into my room and talk me through it and remind me that I wasn’t alone. We had dinners around the table and talked about everything and anything.  

On a very simple level, I knew that my parents loved me. I knew them, I knew their character, and their loving care proved to me that in them I was secure. So, if I did get hurt or had a disappointment, I knew I had someone to help me get back up again. I knew everything would be be ok.   

Now as an adult I realize that my parents were not perfect. I am sure there were plenty of times they let me down, just like there have been plenty of times I have let my own kids down. But always having someone to lean on gave me a deep, internal sense of well-being even when life wasn't always the way I wanted it to be. Joy is the steady feeling of contentment through both the highs of extreme happiness and the lows of sadness and despair.  

God used other people (in this case my parents) to create a good foundation for joy. You may have a totally different story where your parents offered you the exact opposite of security, but instead you found it through a teacher, a pastor, a counselor, or a trusted friend. Someone God used in your life to help outline a picture of what true joy is supposed to look like.  

But who ultimately fills in that picture of joy to make it complete? Jesus. He is the only lasting source of joy. Through his sacrifice, he made a way to bring me back into relationship with my perfect Heavenly Father, God. The God who created me, who knows me inside and out, who planned and understands the purpose for my life. The God who showed Himself over and over again through parted waters, in closing lions' mouths, by providing food in the desert. The God who made a shepherd boy brave, caused walls to fall without weapons, and who forgave His people when they failed and ran the other way. His Word alone shows me His character; that He is strong, loving, and trustworthy; a place where contentment can thrive.  

However, I don’t have to just read about biblical trials and tribulations to understand who God is. I’ve experienced Him in my own life. In times of great heartbreak and sorrow, betrayal and loneliness. In times when people I trusted and loved rejected me or used me and left me alone. But because I knew God was with me, I knew I was never alone. I could bring to Him my hurt and He would fill the emptiness. Even as I walked through cancer, I knew that through Jesus I would be healed even if that meant in heaven. God has given me a foundation of security in Him. A center of well-being and contentment that can never be shaken...an ever-present source of JOY! 

At the end of the day, I’ve always had the answer to where I can find joy in my heart. We all do. And it’s in Jesus. Only he can provide true joy. A joy that no one can take away. A joy that is so deep in the fiber of our hearts that it’s here to stay, now and always.  

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When was the last time your heart felt like something was missing? Over the last two years we’ve buried five family members, including two teenagers. Our holiday table does not feel complete. Our hearts ache for who is missing and the fullness we had when they were with us.  

The Old Testament authors had a word in Hebrew that refers to that fullness: “shalom.” We don’t have a word in English that is a perfect translation of shalom, so it’s most often written as “peace." However, that single word can’t quite capture the rich meaning the biblical authors intended.

When we think of peace we most often think, “the absence of war,” or we might hear it used by gurus who talk about seeking inner peace. While the word shalom can mean these things, it can also mean good health and welfare, prosperity, safety, wholeness, completeness, and fullness.  

So, I’ll ask again in a different way: when was the last time your heart felt like it didn’t have shalom? The sense of being so full that you would, as Jesus put it, “never thirst again?” (John 4:14) 

During the holidays many of us feel like we are longing for the people we’ve lost. We don’t feel full. There’s a constant thirst. 

Enter Jesus. With him that thirst is quenched, that emptiness is filled, and our tables can feel whole again. If we are willing to surrender our hearts to him, to trust that he is overseeing and working through everything that happens to us and to others, he will fill us in a way our minds cannot imagine. He will provide a peace that surpasses all human understanding (Philippians 4:7).  

This is the first holiday season we will have without our niece. In August she lost her life at the young age of 19. Thanksgiving dinner felt different. Her warm smile, her hilarious jokes, and the way she was unashamed about being herself just wasn’t there. As a family, we felt that emptiness. We prayed, inviting Jesus to fill that space in the way only he can.  

I cannot explain exactly how God answered our prayers that day, but he did. We found comfort in remembering that, while our niece is no longer here with us, she is now home at with Jesus. And we have hope knowing there will come a time when there will be no more death, no more sadness, and no more tears, because we will all be in the Kingdom of God, back together for all eternity.

This Advent season, if there is an empty seat at your table, I pray you would seek Jesus in the emptiness. I pray that celebrating the birth of Christ will remind us all that he is the Prince of Peace; not just a title assigned by an ancient prophet, but a REAL role he fulfills. The prince of making our hearts full. The prince of shalom. 

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Hope. That might be my favorite word. There is so much possibility in it. Yet, while hope is a word full of such promise, it only finds its true meaning through Jesus. 

Remember sea monkeys? (I know, that came out of left field, stay with me here.) Well, when I was a kid, we had this catalog with all sorts of cool novelty items among which were sea monkeys. They were advertised to look like all you had to do was add these little seeds (the eggs, I guess) to water, and they would magically grow into a whole colony of people-like organisms that resembled a mix of seahorses and mermaids. You could even train them…according to the ad. Well, I decided to buy some. This was in the pre-Amazon era, so I had to cut out the ad, put it in an envelope along with my money, and mail the order in. Then, I had to wait for it to arrive (I know, how did we survive back then?). I waited and waited…and waited. It got to the point where I had forgotten I had ordered them at all.   

Then the day came when my magical sea monkeys arrived. The picture on the package was so promising. They were going to be my own little kingdom of highly intelligent creatures to develop and cultivate. I followed the directions exactly according to the instructions on the little packet. And you’ll never guess what happened. I had to wait...again. Finally, one day the little speck of a seed started to look like...a piece of fuzz. Unfortunately, this was the extent of their growth. All that waiting, wishing, and hoping was for nothing. I was so disappointed.   

Our hearts are made to hope. We all have it; a longing or a void that desires to be filled. God made us that way. Seeing a hope fulfilled is wonderful.  It builds our faith and renews what can become a weary heart. Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” God receives so much glory and the heavens rejoice when a good earthly hope comes to fruition.   

However, we also know that hope in worldly things can often end in disappointment. Like my sea monkeys, the outcome may be different than what we anticipated. But no matter how many times our expectations may lead to discouragement or sorrow, we can always anchor our hope in knowing that God has, is, and will continue to redeem all things, including us, and the endless longing that exists in our hearts. And that redemption entered the world in the most unexpected way: in a tiny baby boy named Jesus.

God sent His beloved son, Jesus, to come to earth to free people from sin’s bondage; to fill a void that exists in everyone of our hearts. He is the only hope that will fully satisfy our wanting souls. He came, he lived a perfect life, he was unjustly crucified a for all mankind, and then he miraculously rose from the grave conquering death so that we could live on this side of heaven with the hope that he is using all things—even our “sea monkeys”—to fulfill the purpose of his redemption plan while we wait with eager anticipation to be with Jesus face to face for eternity. 

Do you have an emptiness that you are struggling to fill on your own? If you find you have tried everything and nothing has satisfied that longing in you, I encourage you to call out to Jesus.  Ask Him into your life and into your heart. He is definitely worth waiting and hoping for! 

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I don’t have time to write this blog post. At least, that’s what I keep saying to myself.  

I say this about a lot of things if I’m being honest. Maybe some of you can relate? In fact, I bet we already lost some people who read the title and said, “Yeah well, I don’t really have time to read this blog either.”  

The truth is, I do have time, but just barely enough time, and I hate that. I hate it because I have that thing, the thing that some of you reading this also have. You know…  

The perfectionism thing.  

The rest of you? Well, chances are you have to lovingly put up with “us people” in your lives, us people who have The Thing (thanks for that, by the way). 

The problem for me is, I’m not fast, I’m naturally slow and contemplative about almost everything. My thoughts jumble, and I have to sort them out. I tend to overthink, gather way too much information, think through all the options, worry about making the wrong decision, then, once it’s made, I second guess and refine it a thousand times. “Analysis paralysis” some may call it. To make things worse, I tend to look back and focus on the ways this crazy method produced some form of success, conveniently forgetting to count the ways it also caused collateral damage. 

You may have heard this before, but when they’ve done studies on procrastination, it is most often linked to caring too much, rather than not enough. It’s often a fear of getting something wrong, a disproportionate emotional attachment to a task...an anxiety if you will. And there is the rub: we know what Jesus taught us about being anxious. We know that trusting our heavenly Father is the antidote. So what’s our deal? Why do we perfectionists care too much sometimes? 

You know what I’m realizing about my own perfectionism?  

It’s a cover.  

It’s a cover for my secret weakness.  

I know, deep down, I’m weak. I’m not that talented or quick or right. I’m not strong, but I can cover it up. I can obsess until I whitewash my weakness, and by doing so I believe I can cheat into appearing strong and capable, even if for just another fleeting moment. Maybe then I can accomplish something worthwhile. Maybe then I’ll feel… worthy? 

The Apostle Paul, the most prolific New Testament writer, said something I have never liked and, until this moment, have quite conveniently ignored.

And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God. (1 Corinthians 2:1-4)

But, what about all my toil? Doesn’t God want excellence? Why doesn’t Paul want to devote himself to making the best, most persuasive arguments and forming lofty speech to win converts? Isn’t that how you serve the Lord well?  

What does he know that I don't? What does he understand that those of us with The Thing don’t get? 

The Lord once said to Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Paul’s response?  

“Then I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:10)

Do I want my power or Christ’s power? In other words, should I choose the limits of my own strength to gain the world’s momentary praise, or should I choose to surrender the outcome to God, so He alone is glorified? I know that most definitely should be a rhetorical question, but I fear it isn’t always for us perfectionists. We want both. Problem is, we can't serve two masters, and Christ’s power usually doesn’t make us look strong. It certainly didn’t make Him look strong on that cross, but it did demonstrate His true power.  

Maybe, my fellow Christian perfectionists, we have to drop the cover and do the blog post...the assignment...whatever the task may be, even if we can’t make it perfect by our own standards. Maybe we have to get our ego out of the way, so God can work in our weakness. Isn’t that true perfection according to Him? After all, what are we trying to prove and to whom? Would we rather keep up the front? Would we rather people be temporarily impressed with us? Would we rather accomplish things through our own power, or would we rather point people to know the power of Christ?  

So, at least for today, I’ll remember to join God and let go of perfectionism, and I’ll pray that you and I keep trusting that He’s the One who does the real work. It’s not on us. It’s not about us. He is the only wise and strong one, He’s got us, and that’s a much better deal than being a slave to perfectionism.  

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This year, I made it a goal to bake more bread. I’m not quite sure what inspired me to begin this feat. I guess I’ll just say it yields a delicious snack and that’s motivation enough. When I started, it quickly became something I loved to do. I enjoyed being in the kitchen, creating something, and learning how to make a new recipe. It’s been months since I made my first batch of bread, and I still love it, but I’ve noticed this practice has imprinted something special on my life: baking bread slows me down.  

Now, I’m not on the sourdough kick yet, where you commit to what seems like days of creating one loaf (if you have tips, let me know, I’m scared to try!), but for the recipe I follow, it takes around three hours to take the yeast, flour, butter, milk, salt and turn it into a warm, golden brown loaf. Simple ingredients come together slowly to create something nourishing, not just for my body but for my soul. I’ve realized that, as I wait for the yeast and water to come together, for the oven to preheat, for the dough to rise (two times!), I’m learning to be still. One can’t rush bread. I can’t make the ingredients come together quicker than my mixer can go. I can’t rush the warming of the oven or the time the dough needs to rest. And ultimately, I need to slow down. I need to be present. Like the dough, I need to rest too.  

As my days are full with work, church commitments, friends, grocery shopping, and getting dinner on the table in time, I desperately need space each week to just...be. The rhythm to make a loaf a bread stops me in my busyness and gives me time to breathe, grow, and expand in my faith.  

The simple truth to “Be still, and know that I am God” has rung true to me this year with every loaf of bread I’ve made. When I am still, when I am quiet, when I slow down enough to be with the Lord, I’m reminded that He is always at work. He is my Creator. He is pressing and stretching me, shaping me, and molding me into who I am meant to be. It’s the reminder I need that God moves in the slow and ordinary moments. When I let go of hurry and rest in His presence, I can know that He is breathing life into me—slowly, patiently, perfectly.  

So while baking bread started as a fun goal for my year, it’s become a small act of worship in my home; giving me the capacity to rest, to breathe, and to be still. My soul longs for the space to be with my Creator, to know Him as my Lord and Savior, and to trust Him with every moment. So when I feel that tug to keep up, to do more, to be greater, I know it’s time for me to bake—because in the kneading, resting, and rising, I see that God’s work in me is patient, intentional, and wonderfully sustaining...just like bread fresh from the oven.  

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For 40 years of my life, I didn’t include God in anything. I didn’t know God, and I didn’t have any kind of relationship with Him. When things went wrong, I would push and push to try to solve everything on my own. There were times I was mildly successful in getting through it, but the older I got the more the issues started to overwhelm me.  

Then, in 2019, I started walking with Jesus and developing a relationship with God. Problems solved, right?  

Confession time. Even now when things go wrong in my life, including God in the process of working toward a solution isn’t always my first response. After 40 years of doing things without Him, I find when life gets hard my brain falls back into old patterns. My reactions can be driven by my emotions, which often point me to outside comforts—like Amazon or ice cream—for rescue.

What I’ve learned is that God isn’t the default for me during the challenging times, because He isn’t the default for me ALL THE TIME. Maybe you’re like me, finding yourself looking to the wrong things when times get difficult, or maybe you are the exact opposite; when things go wrong you pray to God, but you forget to include Him when life is running smoothly.  

God is with us, all the time. God is good, all the time. I pray He is included when you attend church services on Sundays or Wednesday evenings, but is he also included in the rest of your week? I hear from the hunters in my life that their church is their deer blind, or from the runners, church is when they are on a run. Those things are great if you are intentionally including God in them by praying, meditating on Bible verses, or engaging in some kind of worship while you’re doing it. But if not, is God really a part of it?  

For me, I have to be very conscious and intentional about including Him.The first time I felt convicted of this was during the pandemic several years ago. It wasn’t a groundbreaking conviction that shattered my soul, it was simply a seed in my heart that outside church I wasn’t including God enough. So, I started praying out loud when I washed my hands. Covid-19 had us washing our hands every two and half seconds, and I figured there was no better way to include God then talking to Him while engaging in the things I was already doing.  

Then I started to listen to Matthew five, six, and seven every night as I prepared for bed. Writing Jesus’ words on my heart before I went to sleep. These little changes brought several benefits that I didn’t predict. First, I was able to truly quote Jesus when talking to friends, family, or students. It brought better sleep as I laid down imagining myself in the arms of the Savior. It also ingrained a habit of including Him in a part of my day.  

So while my brain’s default is still to look to other things in times of trouble, by finding ways to engage with God through daily life is helping me to slowly override it. I am getting better, but of course, I still have a lot of work to do. However, Psalm 139 reminds me that no matter how many times I may come up short, God is always there... hand outstretched and waiting. And that gives me the courage to keep trying again tomorrow.  

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Fall has always been one of my favorite times of the year. I love the smell of leaves and bonfires, and a hint of cinnamon drifting through my neighborhood (I live by a bakery, it’s amazing!). I love to take walks with crisp air on my face and leaves crunching under my feet while enjoying the last of the fading sun streaming through golden trees. I find myself fascinated by the fact that the leaves are actually red, orange, and yellow all the time, but we just can’t see it yet because of the summer production of chlorophyll. They are beautiful jewels hiding in plain sight, waiting until the very end to show their true colors.

The outdoors isn't the only thing that changes upon the arrival of fall, however. When the daylight gets shorter, we gather more as a family. We spend more time around the dinner table chatting or playing games and snuggling up together under blankets in front of the fire. We spend more time in the kitchen making dinner together or baking cookies, because I welcome the fact that the oven heats up the entire house. It is a natural time of rest because the body clock God created in us adjusts with the earlier setting sun, prompting us to go to bed sooner. 

God teaches me so much in the changing of the seasons. In His infinite wisdom God uses every tool to show us who He is. When the trees eventually become bare it can look desolate, but God designed this with intention. The leaves must fall to preserve the tree through the winter in order for new life to grow in the spring. Of course, the trees aren’t the only signposts of God’s sovereignty over the natural world. The animals understand the shifting seasons as well. The geese know when to fly south toward climates that offer more food and shelter. The squirrels gather and hide provisions for the winter to keep them from going hungry, and some creatures begin to build homes underground to keep them out of the elements altogether. 

Just as God knows exactly what nature needs to survive and thrive, He knows what need too. In Matthew Jesus tells his disciples, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." 

There are seasons in my life that can look desolate; maybe it’s a friendship that has ended or a job loss, or even a loved one that has passed away. I can trust that God is not only there with me in those times, but He values and loves me and will equip me with everything I need too. He knows what lies on the other side; that change and transformation will come, that the sorrow will turn to joy. If I gather around His table of provision given to me through Jesus, I will find rest and grow closer to Him, and God will see me through the long winter and bring me to a place of new growth and life. When I learn to trust Him in every season, I begin to realize that the beauty of God’s love is always there, even when it feels like I can’t see it. In fact, the darkness only makes the light of God shine brighter.  

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Many years ago, there was a movie called “Legend” about a fantastical land full of beautiful unicorns and Tom Cruise (some might argue those are one and the same). This magical place was being threatened by the “Lord of Darkness,” who sought to cast the world in eternal night. While I watched the film because of my childhood love of horses, I didn’t particularly like the movie because I found the Lord of Darkness terribly scary. I was certain that this, with his snakelike eyes and clefted chin and crown of thick black horns, this is what Satan surely looks like.  

If only the devil and his ugliness were that obvious to see. If that were the case, we’d all be running in terror every time he draws near.  

But he’s not that revolting, is he? In fact, he can be downright compelling…attractive even.  

That’s because Satan uses deception—not a monstrous appearance—as a weapon against us. We see evidence of this within the first few pages of the Bible. In Genesis 3, humanity has its first encounter with the devil. While we learn that he appears in the form of a serpent, we see no indication that Eve was afraid or even threatened by his presence. In fact, she seems captivated by the question he asks: “Did God really say you must not eat from any tree in the Garden?” 

Just one sentence. That’s it. A single sentence questioning God’s goodness is what started this whole mess. It’s a tactic Satan continues to use today: plant a tiny seed of doubt and let humanity come up with an answer that inevitably steers them in the wrong direction. 

Did God really say that Jesus is the only way? How can you know the Bible is really God’s word and not the product of some man’s agenda? Would God really ask you to stop doing something that makes you happy?  

These are all misleading questions Satan planted in my mind before accepting Christ in my life. He didn’t have to work too hard; I was an easy target for his lies. He knew my weaknesses and exploited them, feeding into my own mistaken beliefs about God. At the time I thought I was becoming enlightened, when in reality, I was walking deeper into darkness. 

I wish, now that faith is central in my life, I could tell you that Satan has directed his attention elsewhere, but I’ve discovered that he doesn’t give up that easily. In fact, I’m pretty sure he doubles down on his tactics. I have never felt so convicted about anything in my life than I do about Jesus, but there is one area that Satan can use to bring me to my knees... my kids. Right now I’m convinced he’s working this angle with fierce determination. 

While I can’t go into details, I can say that one of my kids is experiencing a challenging season of life. As a mom, watching this unfold has caused me much despair and feelings of helplessness. Of course I’ve prayed, but the situation remains the same. And in my mind I sometimes hear a sinister voice asking, “Where’s your God now?’ 

But here’s the difference between the old me and the born-again me: I am paying attention. I am beginning to understand Satan’s playbook, and I can reject those whispers of doubt and deception. Instead, I am actively listening for God’s guidance, reading His word for assurance, and trusting that He is present through everything. Because He is. And I won’t let Satan allow me to question it.  

Dear believer, are you struggling with a weakness in life that the devil is leveraging against you? Don’t lose hope and don’t give in! In fact, take his efforts as evidence that your faith means he is losing ground in your life, and this is why he’s trying so hard to gain it back. He will pull out all the stops, because he can’t stand that God’s light is now living through you. Like the Lord of Darkness in “Legend,” he wants to cast the world in eternal night. But you…me…we have something he can never overcome.  

Jesus.  

“The Lord is faithful…and will guard you against the evil one.” (2 Thessalonians 3:3) 

Yes Satan, God did say that. And THAT’s a voice I will always believe. I pray that, through whatever struggle you may encounter, you will believe it too. 

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I don’t know exactly what is supposed to come to my mind when I read this Scripture, but every single time I read this, I picture my girl Lexi. Lexi was my sweet, golden retriever and best friend. I had wanted a golden for as long as I can remember and finally, Christmas 2013, my dream came true. Pretty soon, the newness of having an adorable puppy wore off as she was just that….a very naughty little puppy. I was ready to send her back. I’m serious. I’d had it, she wouldn’t listen, she was stubborn, and oh so destructive. Then it happened…the last straw, my tipping point, the thing that pushed me over the edge. She got into the mud. What was I expecting? I mean, we did live in Washington state, one of the rainiest places in the United States. It was springtime and she was a five month old puppy who liked to dig and was really quite proficient at it. It was in her nature to get dirty, but when she came to my backdoor covered in mud wanting to come in the house, I just about lost it. Fortunately, for both of us (and the whole family who also adored her), laughter interrupted my frustration as I grabbed my phone and took a picture.THEN I went outside and hosed her down.   

It’s funny how God teaches us through our pets and our kids, isn’t it? See, I am just like her. Very often, I find myself refusing to listen to my Master too. I stubbornly avoid what I know is right, and I land myself in the mud. It’s in my very nature to get messy and go my own way, just like it was Lexi’s nature to act like a hyper, curious, stink-seeking puppy. But God, because of his grace and his radical love for us, does not give up on us and does not leave us in our mess. He cleans us up, takes care of the dirt, the bugs, the sticks, and the thorns so that we can be free from the hazards that hinder us. His washing and tending frees us from everything that we get caught up in. Leaving us in that state would not be loving, that would be neglectful. God knows in order to live the life He called us to, we must be free of those things that drag us down.   

Because of His great love, he sent Jesus, the Living Water; water that purifies every part of us. The only action required on our part is letting Him wash us clean so that we can be with him forever!   

I wish I could say that was the last mess Lexi ever made. It sure wasn’t. I have a whole scrapbook evidencing her multitude of shenanigans. I will say though, that in spite of them, I loved her as much as I could possibly love another creature, and that love is a mere morsel compared to the love our eternal and perfect Father has for us. No matter the muck you find yourself in, He will always pull you out and clean you off if you let Him. He’ll set you on the solid rock to make sure you don’t slip.  

Today if you or someone in your life needs a major spray down by the garden hose, trust the Master of the house. He is able. It may seem like you have been stuck in your mess for too long; so long you have become accustomed to it and don’t even think there is a need for a bath. Perhaps it seems like the mud is too thick and no amount of cleanser, water, and scrubbing can help. Does that ditch of despair look too deep for anyone to possibly be rescued? God sees us and He is not giving up on anyone; NO ONE is beyond His reach! Just lift up your hand, and He will take it from there. 

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My favorite tea steamed my glasses as I took a sip, clutching the warm mug with mittened hands on a chilly 46-degree morning. The spicy scent from my breakfast beverage mingled pleasantly with the fresh smell of the towering evergreens. 

I had just slipped out of my toasty sleeping bag and emerged into the fresh morning wearing a winter hat and clutching a blanket around my shoulders. The sun was rising, and the distant mountains were brushed with soft pastel shades.  

I sighed contentedly, feeling grateful to be alive in such a beautiful place and anticipating a day full of hiking and exploring the stunning landscape, evidence of our Creator God everywhere we turned in Grand Tetons National Park. 

“Taste and see that the Lord is good” is the motto I’d like to have on our camper sign. Many families display wooden placards with the name of their family and their hometowns. Some campers display maps of the United States with the states they’ve toured filled in with a colorful sticker, marking the travels they’ve shared. 

Sleeping in a pop-up camper is not the height of luxury, but it allows our family to be just that much closer to the goodness of the Lord as expressed in His creation. There is magic to having only a bit of canvas between you and the symphony of insects and frogs each night and the chorus of birdsong each morning. When we camp, our circadian rhythms align with that of the natural world. We sleep when it is dark and awake with the sunrise, and we often rest in the heat of the day. We’re aware of the weather and the clouds moving across the sky, because we’re directly beneath it all day long, only returning to the interior of the camper at night. 

Back at home some months later during an ordinary family dinner on a Saturday night, a smile creeps across my face as we linger a bit longer than usual, laughing at inside jokes and picking at the tray of roasted potatoes until none remain. They’re crispy on the outside and seasoned in an irresistible and perhaps impossible-to-duplicate way by my husband. Absorbing the moment, I realize that what we’re doing together on this ordinary school night is also tasting and seeing that the Lord is good. I might be longing for the grandeur of our adventures in the wild, but God and his goodness is just as present in my kitchen on a Tuesday. 

I feel the Holy Spirit whispering to me gently, “this too is a gift,” and I am humbly reminded to open my eyes to God’s goodness in the ordinary moments of my everyday life. Thinking through my morning just today, I remember the cool minty freshness of my toothpaste, the miracle of the internet that brought me a yoga class from an instructor in another country, the child who has recently learned to make scrambled eggs all by himself, and the delightful crunch of a perfectly toasted piece of homemade bread slathered with melty peanut butter. 

What gifts do you find in your current season and your ordinary life? How can you too choose to “taste and see that the Lord is good?” I am praying that you too can take a deep breath and look around with God’s eyes to see the gifts all around you.

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Psalm 121 is near and dear to my heart. I have it taped to a mirror in my house so I can read it every day. I love it because in just eight verses, it reminds me of the simple yet powerful truths I need to hold onto daily. It’s just as good now as it was then when the people of Israel were reciting these words as they journeyed to Jerusalem for different traditions and festivals. In this season of my life, it has served as a reminder of the Lord’s character. It draws my attention toward Him and who He is rather than fixate on the anxieties, worries, and fears that often consume my mind; something I think the Israelites would have been familiar with too.  

The verse begins by reassuring us that the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth, helps. I’ll admit, I like to think I can help myself. I have a can-do, task-oriented spirit, and I like feeling in control (please tell me I’m not the only one!). But beneath this, my soul is desperately crying out, “I need help!” Deep down, I know I can’t handle everything on my own. I simply wasn’t designed for this. I wasn’t created to be the author of my own life. I wasn’t made to do things on my own strength, might, and will. But I was made to be in relationship with the One who can handle everything. As much as I love finding pride in what I can do on my own, the glory must be for the Lord...and if I’m honest, it’s only because of the Lord that I can do anything at all! 

God often puts people in our lives to help us. I’ve seen this most recently with a new friend in my Bible study. After one of our sessions, we got matched together for prayer to end the night. As we shared prayer requests, I was honest. Honest about some fears and anxiety that had been flooding my mind, and she took the time to encourage me in that moment, to speak life over me, and to proclaim God’s truth to me (something I really needed to hear!). A few days later, she texted me to check in with me. It was something so simple, yet so helpful to my heart. Imagine if I wasn’t honest. Imagine if I didn’t ask for help, out of pride, fear, or self-reliance. I would have missed out on more than just relief. I’d miss the gift of relationship.  And ultimately, I’d miss the opportunity to draw closer to the One who created and sustains me, who is my greatest help on this side of eternity. So I'm learning, slowly and imperfectly, to call on Him and to see the help He’s placing before me. Not just when I’ve reached the end of my strength, but in the middle of the chaos, in the small moments, in every need.  

Yet, the verse goes on, the Lord also watches and protects. He is not only there to help in times of trouble, but He is ever-present in our lives. I have found so much comfort in this. God never sleeps. He is always watching out for me 24/7, 365, always protecting me, always involved in every moment. I am never alone. When I wake up, during work, on my commute, while I cook dinner, doing chores, through sleepless nights, in all my anxious thoughts, when I feel like life is spiraling out of my control... the Lord is there and He knows. 

How incredible that we serve a God who is not distant or disengaged but actively involved in our lives. He doesn’t sleep or get distracted with other things. He is constantly aware, always present, and is continuously watching over us. What a comfort to know we can call on Him at any time and He not just hears us, but actively helps us through all of it. 

Praise the Lord, our Helper and Protector! 

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Well, it’s happened…. middle age! I was walking around minding my own business, and it just crept up on me while I wasn’t even looking. I have officially moved into the phase of life when sometimes I long for the “good old days.” My 40’s are very quickly becoming a thing of the past, and I often find myself reminiscing about simpler times. Like the years before smart phones, when people couldn’t get ahold of me 24/7, and I didn’t feel pressure to immediately respond. I get in a group chat now and I can’t type fast enough to keep up. My kids don’t even use words anymore, they just send messages in meme form. I need a butterscotch candy.  

There was a time that I had to buy a fashion magazine to see what the upcoming trends would be, but now my social media feed is full of influencers talking about their Amazon hauls, and trends changing faster than Jahmyr Gibbs running in for a touchdown (GO LIONS!). There are too many new hair products, too many diet plans, new paint color trends, pills that will make menopause easier, things that I should no longer eat, conspiracy theories about the world being flat... there is just TOO MUCH INFORMATION! 

How can there be so much noise coming from a such a small thing? A world of distraction and static in the palm of my hand.  

The invention of the smart phone has, in many ways, made life easier and advanced technology faster than we ever could have imagined. But it has also made the worries of this world front and center and on constant repeat. I click on one story about a new exercise routine and ten more stories follow. I begin to fixate on how, if I did that workout, maybe I would look like her. Another click on a headline and the next thing I know I feel like the world is going to end, and I can feel the anxiety creep up. What is going to happen to my family? What is the world going to be like for my kids and grandkids?  

Oh, how I long for the “good old days,” because now it seems I have to fight a lot harder for peace and connection to the One who brings it. 

In Mark we see Jesus using stories to teach, with one of his most famous stories being the parable of the sower. The sower threw seed and it fell on various surfaces. Some fell on the path, some on the rocky ground, and some among the thorns. Later, Jesus explained the parable to the disciples by saying: 

“[Some people are like seed who] ... are the ones sown among thorns. They are those who hear the word but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches and the desires for other things enter in and choke out the word and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22).

Now I have read these verses and heard sermons and Sunday school lessons about them so many times I have lost count, but I quickly realized that I, a middle-aged woman who doesn’t even like technology, was allowing a little phone to choke out God’s Word in my life. I was giving the world and what it cares about way more of my time and thought than Scripture. And it was showing in my fruit.  

The fruit of focusing on the world does not bring life or connection. It brings worry, fear, and disconnection. The fruit of the world is lack and discontent and leading me to believe that, if I just had this one more thing, I would be happy. The fruit of the world lures me away from the true source of life...Jesus. "I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them will produce much fruit” (John 15:5). 

I need to set aside the distractions of this world and focus on Jesus and His Word. When I focus on Him, I find my true worth and value. When I focus on the Word I can “cast my cares upon Him because he cares about me”(1 Peter 5:7). I can love someone who disagrees with me because I know they too are made in the image of God. When I focus on the Word and its truth, it will begin to bear good fruit. I will have joy that is not dependent on my circumstances or how my jeans fit at the moment. I will be more patient with my kids and gentle with those around me. I will even have the self-control to stop the scroll... hmm, that needs to be on a t-shirt!  

I guess it isn’t just the kids who need to cut back on the screen time. This middle-aged woman is also learning how to unplug from the world and plug in to the One who made it.  

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If a random stranger were to approach you and say, “I love you,” I’m sure there would be a whole slew of thoughts that would run through your head. “What a crazy person!” or, as my 15-year-old might say, “Uhh, Okay...”  

But the prevailing thought would become, “You don’t know me, how can you begin to think you love me?” Because to be loved and not known feels empty and meaningless.  

The opposite of that, to be known and not loved, is perhaps the thing we fear most. Deep down many of us feel, if you knew everything there is to know about me, you wouldn’t be able to love me. It’s terrifying. It causes us to build walls around ourselves. It prevents us from being vulnerable, and it prevents us from entering into relationships.  

Before beginning my walk with Jesus I truly didn’t believe anyone could know me and love me. Maybe you’ve felt that way too. I was battling alcoholism (and losing), addicted to pornography, sexual sin, divorce, adultery, lying, and focused only on myself. Six and a half years ago I would never have been able to admit that to anyone, especially people I didn’t know, because I was terrified of being known and not loved.  

But that was before I knew the Love of Our Savior. That was before Jesus.  

On June 23rd, 2019, Jesus came into my life, and His word told me that he knew me before I took my first breath, before I took my first steps, and even before I committed my first sin. He called me by name, showed me the life that I had been living and what the end of that path would look like: death. He told me, like all his disciples before me, that if I would repent and follow Him it would lead to life.  

At first, I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. How could you know all the things I have done, the people I have hurt, and still love me? “Look to the cross” he said, “And read My Word.”  

In John 15:13 Jesus says, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” 

Still, I fought it. I felt so unlovable and dirty that I felt I somehow had to earn His friendship and stop sinning so that I could come to him “clean.” Maybe you’ve felt that way before, too. That you have somehow “out-sinned” the love of God. That feeling brings with it a sense of helplessness. Christianity was for “good people,” and I was NOT one of them.  

I was directed to the book of Romans in my Bible where I read this, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).  

Jesus died for us while we were STILL sinners. I didn’t have to come to Him clean, and neither do you! On our own we cannot make ourselves clean or wipe away our sin, only Jesus can. There’s nothing I’ve done that, if I confess, He cannot forgive (1 John 1:9).

Since coming to Him, I am forgiven. I am born again with a new life in Him. Now, I can say because of Jesus, I am clean, I turned away from the alcohol, sexual immorality, lying, and the rest of my sin, and I turned toward Him. He forgives me and reminds me every day with the cross just how much He loves me. And He loves you, too.

When you feel unlovable, when you feel like you’ve just done too much to ever be forgiven, look to the cross and read His word. He KNOWS you, and He LOVES you.

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Puppies ruin lives. There I said it. Puppy lovers come at me. They are objectively terrible. They bark and whine all night, they bite you, jump on your kids, chew up your… everything, eat mud, actively try to kill themselves and sometimes, sometimes, when you don’t play with them at six in the morning they do that little circle dance, peer over their shoulder, stare directly into your eyes and spite-poop on your rug.  

They are cute though, so I guess we’ll just ruin our lives to raise them.  

Now look, I know you’re already writing an email to the station to have the “puppy hater” removed, but I’m not a pup-curmudgeon, I care about this dog. In fact, as my wife will tell you, I assumed the worst before I agreed to buy this brown mini goldendoodle named “Nugget.” I’m a realist. I counted up the cost, and I agreed to this out of an abundance of love in my heart. But reader, I have been tried.  
 
Here’s the thing. Nugget’s getting better. Most of the issues have been improving, but there is one thing we really struggle with: going on walks as a family.  
 
When Nugget isn’t biting the leash and growling at me, he is biting my five-year-old son in the rear and growling at him. No amount of treats or threats have worked. We often give up and carry our Nugget back to the "Nugget box," a crate as some of you may call it.  
 
I remember eight years ago lounging in our front yard with my newborn daughter when a medium-sized, white dog came down the sidewalk, and to my horror, it had no leash. My wife says I’m overly cautious, but that is because she can’t recognize my spiritual gift of protection. Well, like a major-league shortstop, I dove and scooped up my daughter just in time to see the dog gingerly trot down the sidewalk with its owner. He had the gall to wave. The owner, not the dog. 
 
Now I’m not condoning breaking what I assume is called “dog-law” (I can’t be bothered to Google it). I’m sure there are rules about leashing a dog, but to this day I watch this man leashlessly walk his dog, or should I say, walk with his dog, and I’m still amazed. His dog walks beside, sometimes in front of him, always keeping with the man’s pace, peaceful, and never straying from the path, not even to eat a baby. This dog has been perfect for almost a decade. Believe me I know, us protectors are always keeping track of potential threats.  

Recently, I was making my way through a Bible reading plan when I came across something in Psalm 32. What I love about this reading plan is, because it’s chronological, it puts each of the psalms of David right after when scholars believe he was writing them at the time. Psalm 32 is believed to be one of the psalms written right after David confesses to his most grievous sin, the abduction and assault of a woman and the secret murder of her husband.  

In Psalm 32 David recounts how heavy the Lord’s hand was on him before he confessed and repented. Indeed, even after his repentance David was rightly given great and severe consequences, but the psalm is mainly one of joy because David knows that though he deserves death and separation, the Lord has forgiven him. He can still walk with the Lord. This is what David writes from the Lord’s perspective:
 
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you. Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord.  

Animals aren't the only ones who need to be curbed. In Galatians, Paul reminds us Christ has set us free from the leash of the law but he warns us not to use our freedom to indulge our fleshly desires. Otherwise, he says, we will “bite and devour” one another. But, if we walk by the Spirit, we will not gratify the desires of the flesh. 

Ironically, just a few days ago, I sat with my son in his room during timeout talking to him about biting his sister. She did something to upset him and that was his chosen method of conflict resolution. So, I reminded him how much he hates Nugget biting him. I said, “I don’t want to keep disciplining you, I just want you to walk with us.” My son who doesn’t speak in metaphors needed some more explanation, I like to think, eventually, he came to understand. 

God chose to have us like I chose to have my son and puppy, but unlike me, He completely understood the cost and the grief it would cause Him. I doubt our cuteness was what tipped the scales.

So what did? 

God doesn’t want us on a leash. God doesn’t want to discipline us forever. He wants to walk with us, all of us together as a family, confident in His path and His provision. That is only possible if, like the white angel-dog in my neighborhood, we share the same mind as the Owner, the same goals, the same wisdom, the same discipline, the same heart, the same… Spirit. This is the end goal of His master plan, to make us like Him so He can set us free and have friendship with us as we walk with Him forever. 

For freedom, Christ has set us free (Galatians 5:1). He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8).
 
So who am I to judge puppies and boys. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if maybe God gave them to me in part to say, “You see. This is what it’s like for Me. This is what it is like to want to walk with you.”  

And, like my son sitting in timeout, I like to think the metaphor will not be lost on me, and eventually, I will come to understand. 

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I love summer in Michigan—but with it comes a sea of orange traffic cones. Road closures, detours, and construction delays become part of the daily routine. When I see them, I immediately brace for a longer commute and a wave of frustration. Maybe you don’t feel that way, but I definitely do.  

A few weeks ago, I took a short road trip with my daughter before she headed back to college. She was napping in the passenger seat, and I had plenty of time to think about how annoyed I was as we crawled through yet another wave of construction. 

I mean, the slow down alone is maddening, but does it really have to last for miles? Half the time the actual work being done is limited to only one small section, yet it feels like we’re shuffled into a single lane long before we get there. A route that should take five minutes winds up taking half an hour. Sometimes the road lines shift so haphazardly that knowing where the lane is has suddenly become a mystery. And those cement blocks they use as temporary lane barrier? I’m not claustrophobic, but I can empathize with those who are when those are boxing me in!  

But then, amid my silent rant, a second thought suddenly popped in. What if there were no repairs at all? No slowdowns, no repaving, no maintenance. I’d probably be complaining even more about the terrible condition of the roads. Without upkeep, they’d become dangerous and nearly impossible to drive on. It can be easy to forget that not long-ago roads were nothing but a trail consisting of dirt, mud, and rocks subject to unpredictable weather conditions and the changing seasons. Back then, travel took days if not weeks, and the journey was often full of setbacks simply because a smooth path did not yet exist.  

I realized that maybe these encounters with road construction are a way for God to remind us that He’s doing something similar in our lives as we navigate the path to eternity. What if Jesus hadn’t made a way for us? What if eternal life wasn’t our hope? Many before us would have died without that promise. But God did prepare the way—through Jesus. Yet, the road to get there isn’t always smooth. Sometimes circumstances slow us down and create a minor inconvenience, and sometimes things can come to a complete stop, filling us with anger and frustration. There are times when the lines aren’t as clear as we’re used to, and we aren’t sure which direction to go. We may even experience moments when we’re feeling boxed in and searching for escape. But we need to trust that God is always behind the wheel, driving us exactly where we need to go.

So, the next time we encounter road construction, look at it as a gentle reminder that life’s traffic jams might feel endless in the moment, but compared to the rest of our lives they happen in a flash. And while the route may not always be easy, and we may experience several detours along the way, one day it will be nothing but a memory of the journey we made to reach the perfect destination—eternal life with Jesus. And I’ll take every earthly inconvenience to reach that place any day! 

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