I work really hard at trying to be understanding of my children’s stages of development. They’re kids, right? There is so much that their little brains can’t hold or grasp. But one thing that I have just about zero percent patience for is when I have to answer a question more than once. My son, Brady, asks a LOT of questions. I love how he thinks. However, very frequently, he will ask me a question, and after I answer, he asks the same question again. Word for word, as if I did not take time to think through my answer and speak it out loud. Sometimes he straight up didn’t listen to me. And other times, he didn’t like my answer. So he pretends not to hear me, decides to try it again and hope for a new response.

Anyone else? It makes me feel completely insane. Like, why am I using my brainpower to come up with an answer for you if you’re going to ignore me?? Rude. The logical part of my brain tells me, “He’s seven. His focus is definitely comparable to a goldfish. Be patient.” The tired, mom part of my brain says, “I refuse to answer your question again if you’re not going to listen to the answer.” More often than not, that is the answer that comes out of my mouth. Insert anyone in your life that has made you feel this way before. Maybe your kids, or your mom, or your husband.

I don’t know about you, but I am so thankful that God is not an impatient parent like me. I ask Him so many questions, and He answers me in ways I don’t always understand, and sometimes, I don’t even pay attention. I have found that I’m in good company, though. Jesus demonstrated ridiculous patience with his disciples over and over and over. Do me a favor and go read John 14:5-13.

I’ll wait.

Okay, I’m gonna paraphrase it for you the way that I wrote it down in my journal. This is how I saw the conversation going in my head.

[Verse 5] Thomas: “But how can we know the way to go?“

[Verse 6] Jesus: “I am the way. From now on, you do know the Father and have seen Him.”

[Verse 8] Philip chimes in: “Show us the Father.”

Pause. If you didn’t see how hilarious Philip’s response is, read Jesus’ words one more time.

If I were Jesus (LOL), this would be my response: “…You’re kidding, right? Were you listening to Me at all? I literally JUST SAID you know the Father and have seen Him. Pay attention, guys!”

But Jesus’ response is kind and gentle. He is clear, though. He asks these two questions: “Don’t you know me?” (v.9) and “Don’t you believe?” (v.10)

These are not sarcastic or judgmental questions that He poses to His followers. I believe it’s more of a loving, kind of sad question. It is as if He’s saying, “After all this time, and all we’ve been through together, don’t you know Me? Don’t you know that when I speak something, I mean it?” It isn’t that He simply just wants them to pay attention to His answers. He is longing to be known because of His goodness.

I’ve read this passage before but I’ve never put it together how often I am the one asking God questions without listening to His answers.

God, how am I supposed to make it through this time?

God, are You sure that you’ve called me to do that?

God, You told me that You would answer me, but are You sure You’re going to follow through?

Let me be clear: God loves and is aware of what Alicia Britt Chole calls “persistent supplication.” It is God’s desire that we would earnestly seek after Him, and honestly ask Him for the desires of our heart. He does not get frustrated with us when we seek Him over and over, even if we are a little repetitive. But in our questions, are we relying on His character and His words, or are we relying on what we see? Are we asking the question again because we aren’t sure if we heard Him, or because we are looking for another answer?

The depth of His character is far too magnificent for us to ever grasp. But the consistency of His character? This is not too much for us to understand. It is not a far stretch for God to hope that we would trust in His faithfulness.

The amount of unanswered questions we have just about always outweigh the clear answers that God has given. There’s a reason for this, you know. God is mysterious and far too much for us to ever comprehend. If we’ve completely figured Him out, that doesn’t make Him Someone worth trusting our entire eternity to, does it?

But for as many unanswered and mysterious situations you have in your life, I would be willing to bed there is at least one situation that God has made clear for you. Think back on the questions you’ve asked God that He has answered. Maybe a friend or leader affirmed it for you. Maybe you felt a deep peace and settling in your spirit. Maybe a Bible verse popped up that was so specific, you knew it had to be an answer from Him. Maybe the Holy Spirit spoke something deep within you that you absolutely knew couldn’t have been your own thought.

How often have we asked for more proof when God has already given us an answer?

This is not a challenge to stop asking questions. It is a challenge to actually listen to the answers. In this one passage that I asked you to read above, God has already answered us with this promise: “If you really know me, you will know my Father as well. From now on, you do know Him and you have seen Him.”

I know your circumstances may not line up with what He has promised. I know you’re still waiting on the miracle. I know it looks like that dream may have been snatched from you. But what has God already promised you about that situation? Without knowing your personal circumstance, I can tell you what I know that He has promised:

He has promised to be faithful to you. It’s who He is. He literally can’t help it. [1 Timothy 2:13]

He has promised to strengthen you and hold you up. [Isaiah 41:10]

He promises to be present with you, no matter how far you run or try to hide. [Psalm 139:7-12]

He hears you. Every prayer, every question, every cry of your heart. [1 John 5:14]

He loves you. Deeper than those three words could ever convey. [Romans 8:38-39]

The promises God has made to you are practically endless.

Here’s the really, really hard truth. At some point, we have to believe Him and quit asking. Christine Caine put it this way: “At some point, we move from ‘Jesus, do You see me?‘ to a very settled identity that says, ‘Jesus, I know You see me, and now I will follow You to see others.'”

Take this day to think back on all the countless ways Jesus has answered you in the past and be encouraged.

He is for you.

“I will answer your cry for help every time you pray,

and you will feel My presence in your time of trouble. I will deliver you and bring you honor.

I will satisfy you with a full life and with all that I do for you.”

Psalm 91:15-16 TPT

This morning, I heard birds.

Oh, and by the way, I’m back. Did you know I was missing? Did you miss me? I won’t hold it against you if you have had no idea that I haven’t published a blog in about three months. God and I decided together that this week was the week to return. And this morning, I heard birds. Like, a lot of them. They were singing so loudly, surrounding my house in a chirpy chorus. Why does this matter to you?

Because it’s been a year. A year of pandemic, quarantine, masks, distancing. This time last year, we spent all of our time finding ways to be still and be creative with our time. And the birds sang really loud, just like they are this morning. Do you ever hear a noise or smell a smell and it’s like the most intense version of deja vu? I was suddenly hit in the face with the reality that it’s truly been a year that we have been living this way. Everyone dealt with our new reality in different ways, right? Some of us really thrived with some extra rest and space. Others of us died a little inside when we had to isolate, and we’re still working through that shift.

Me? I’m probably somewhere in the middle. As the year progressed, I found myself seeking safety and comfort more and more. I surrounded myself with Netflix shows, TikTok, sugar and social media. I ate what I wanted because I deserved it. I rewarded myself daily for surviving virtual school in a pandemic.

None of that was necessarily wrong. But what I found is that at the beginning of 2021, I claimed the feeling of emptiness. I felt like everything in me had been poured out and I just couldn’t get filled back up. Not enough energy, patience, or passion. But the truth is, I wasn’t empty at all. I was completely stuffed with things that would never really satisfy me.

Have you been there, too? Have you been waking up and ending each day feeling drained; so unsure of where your energy or focus or passion would come from? Be really, really honest with yourself. What are you putting into your body, heart and mind? What is your knee-jerk response when things feel hard or out of control? It could be eating, shopping, scrolling, zoning out. None of these things are inherently bad. But do me a favor and dig a little deeper. Don’t read too quickly past these next two questions:

Are you really empty? Or are you full of things that never satisfy you?

What I found for myself in January is that I had nothing to write. I had nothing to share with you because I wasn’t leaving enough room for Jesus to really speak to me. Also, I was trying to just survive each day with virtual school. The reality of all of our lives this past year is that we are all living in some state of grief or loss. These levels vary based on your personal experience. Some of us are grieving normalcy for our work or our kids, and some of us are learning how to live without a loved one. By now, I hope you know me a little bit. I am never here to downplay your experience or your reality, and neither is God. He has given us resources and coping mechanisms to get through whatever we are facing.

The truth for those of us who call Christ our Savior is that not only is He everything we need, but He has also given us all that we need. Here’s that promise:

Everything we could ever need for life and godliness has already been deposited in us by His divine power. For all this was lavished upon us through the right experience of knowing Him who has called us by name and invited us to come to Him through a glorious manifestation of His goodness.

2 Peter 1:3 TPT

Isn’t that amazing? Pandemic or not, God has already deposited in us everything we need to live a godly life. But we will never reach the depth of that gift if we aren’t in need of Him. The deep need for comfort and safety in anything or anyone other than God steals our awareness of all that we’ve been given. The artificial comforts of the world leave us unsatisfied, always in need of the next thing. God promises satisfaction and contentment.

Here’s the thing. We can feel things are shifting, right? Spring is coming, thank You, Jesus. The world is beginning to open up a bit at a time. Yay! But before we celebrate, let’s take a really good look at what’s been filling us and what we rely on for our contentment. Let’s be careful what we idolize as our comfort and our safety.

Normalcy is not our god.

Comfort is not our savior.

Ease is not our safe place.

A lack of struggle does not automatically produce peace.

What has been filling you? What has become idolized in your life? Think of it this way: if I could just have ______________, then I would be okay. What fills that blank for you other than the presence and the promises of God?

Let me tell you something. I am still watching Netflix and I am still rewarding myself for virtual school. But I had to create more space first to put Jesus in His rightful place again in my life: my Sustainer, my Peace, my Strength, my Passion. Is there anything that has pushed Jesus out of the way in your life? Take a moment to ask Him to show it to you. Ask Him to reveal to you where you can create space, silence, room. He is gentle, and it’s His kindness that leads us to repentance.

If you’re not sure what to pray or ask for, steal these words from Psalm 16 (TPT):

Yahweh, You alone are my inheritance. 

You are my prize, my pleasure and my portion. 

You hold my destiny and its timing in your hands.

Your pleasant path leads me to pleasant places. 

I’m overwhelmed by the privileges that come with following you!

The way You counsel me makes me praise You more, 

for Your whispers in the night give me wisdom, showing me what to do next. 

Because I set you, Yahweh, always close to me, 

my confidence will never be weakened, 

for I experience Your wraparound presence every moment.

My heart and soul explode with joy – full of glory!

Even my body will rest confident and secure.

For You will not abandon me to the realm of death,

Nor will You allow Your faithful one to experience corruption.

Because of You, I know the path of life,

As I taste the fullnesss of joy in Your presence.

At Your right side I experience divine pleasures forevermore!

Have you felt it, too?

The unspoken, internal struggle of somehow redeeming this season to be more beautiful and memorable than ever? The pressure. The weight.

It feels like so much has been taken away from us. So much has been stolen from my kids. My daughter will never know the true joys of making memories in kindergarten because she’s experienced it all from my kitchen table. I want nothing more than to be able to counterbalance the awfulness with fun and joy. So in my head, I have created lots of fun crafts and baking opportunities and photo shoots of matching pajamas.

Spoiler: none of those things have happened.

I get it. I really, really do. Our brains are telling us that we should have a little more family time this year to create even more special memories. We want our littles to feel special. We want to fill in the void of all of the loss and replace the negativity with light. The reality is, all of the lights and any of the most special moments you are looking to create cannot fill the void and the pain of what this year has taken from you.

Don’t kill yourself to create joy, okay? You know me. I am all about the lights and finding comfort in absolutely anything I can right now. But the truth? The truth is that even with all of the external stuff we can find to light up our environment, we can still come up empty.

The truth is that everyone I know is weary. Including me.

We are weary of changed plans.

We are weary of plan B’s. And C’s and D’s.

We are weary of urgent care waiting rooms and counting down numbers of isolation.

We are weary of wondering. Waiting. Hoping for breakthrough and change.

We aren’t the first ones to experience an unorthodox Christmas Day, let alone a year of surprise and heartbreak. Jesus entered the world after 400 years of silence and shattered every expectation of who the Messiah was supposed to be. I am pretty positive Mary’s vision for her first child didn’t involve a baby out of wedlock miles away from her family and hometown.

The story of our salvation was born, literally, out of inconvenience and flexibility. The Author of our faith wrote the narrative of salvation through a lense of unexpected and radical obedience.

My prayer for us is that we would lean into the responses of Mary as we are thrown loop after loop this year. The reality is that although it may feel like we are simply subjects to the facts of the environment around us; the truth is that God is deeply involved in the details of our lives. While COVID-19 is altering the globe, the same Author of salvation has a storyline and a purpose weaved into your personal life. Rather than, “Why me?” or “When is this going to end?“, I wonder if we could have a different approach.

It makes no difference that we only have 15 days left in the calendar year. The date is just a number. But the condition and the obedience of our heart can be brand new with each morning’s fresh dose of grace. May our hearts take on the attitude of Mary, after being dropped the biggest bomb of her life:

“As His servant, I accept whatever He has for me. May everything you have told me come to pass.”

Luke 1:38 TPT

I’ve told you throughout this post that your best is enough. Practically speaking, it is. But you and I both know that even at our best, the glimmer of truth shines through us to remind us that somehow, even with our best efforts: there’s still something missing.

That has always been His intent. That when our very best attempts still make us feel like a failure, we would turn to Him. May our effort and our hard work fall to the side as we drop our tasks and open up our hands again. May we not throw ourselves into working hard for a positive attitude. Instead, let’s focus on obedience.

Surrender isn’t simply letting go of our own plans, it must also be trusting His.

Maybe all of your best laid plans were taken from you this year without permission, through sickness or that horrible “q” word. But maybe, with just 15 days left in the year, you can make the choice yourself to give up that last shred of attempted perfection. You can choose to open your hands and your heart, and allow God’s holy interruptions to shape you rather than forcing them to break you.

We are the Lord’s servants. Let everything He says about us come true.

There’s a disclaimer to this blog. The theme is not my original idea. My therapist should get all of the credit, as she listened to me whine for an hour about how bummed out I am about this time of year.

I cried about everything from a cancelled trip to the lack of Thanksgiving crafts my kids are making due to virtual school. There is a massive dichotomy most of us are experiencing today. We’re supposed to be thankful, right? We know the truth. Gratitude changes not only our perspective, but our physiology. Gratitude sources joy. The Bible says to be thankful in all circumstances. And we should be. We are blessed.

But let’s be really honest. Many of us right now are struggling. We are grieving yet another wave of loss; whether physical or emotional. Some of you are walking through your first holiday without a loved one. For our family, it’s our third. Thanksgiving is the anniversary of my dad’s reunion with Jesus. I understand what it’s like to feel the massive ache that comes with this kind of loss. So let me set you free with my therapist’s words:

Honor what sucks right now.

I know, I know. This is not the typical message you’ll hear on Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to be thankful in all circumstances, right?

Honoring what is difficult does not cancel out your gratitude. Thinking on what is true, right and lovely does not outweigh casting your cares on Him.

Being thankful in all circumstances does not negate the truth that the Lord is close to the broken-hearted.

Far too often, we bypass our reality in hopes of pleasing God with our righteousness when all He’s really asked for is our surrender and our sacrifice. And what is a true sacrifice to God?

“The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God.”

[Psalms 51:17]

If you’re thankful, thank God.

If you’re sad, cry out to God.

If you’re bitter, pause. Look around. You’ll find something to be thankful for. Every good and perfect gift comes from the Father above.

You are not required by your Father to be happy about things that make you sad. Let go of whatever expectation someone else may have put on you to push through the reality of what is.

So today, I mourn the reality that we will not be with our extended family. I will probably cry at the reality of the world today which prevents my family from celebrating our dad in the same room.

And at the same time, I will be so thankful that Olivia and I baked a pie together. I will love the fact that today involves almost no stress as we eat whenever we are ready, with no one else relying on us. I will celebrate that we are healthy and loved.

I’m asking you today to take the bold step to fight what the world has told you God wants from you. He wants you. So be completely you. Messy, sad, thankful, whatever you are mess.

“For the mountains may move and the hills disappear, but even then my faithful love for you will remain.” [Isaiah 54:10]

I have a confession to make to you.

I really like cold weather. I didn’t know this about myself until recently. I don’t necessarily enjoy being cold, but I love all that cold weather invites in. I love any excuse to be cozy. Twinkly lights, blankets, layers, candles, hot drinks; the list is truly endless for me.

Here in Maryland, it seems we’ve finally stepped into that kind of weather. But let’s be honest. The chance of a 70 degree day next week is just as likely. The truth is that within the change of seasons, there is often an overlap. A one step forward, two step back kind of thing. A period of time where you are caught in the in-between of more than one environment which gives conflicting messages.

I decided yesterday to take a walk in the sunny 35 degree weather, and on my normal route, I passed a tree that seemed to be in this exact state. Honestly, it looked really confused. A third of the branches were bare, prepared for the heaviness that winter brings. The next third was holding onto dead leaves, just waiting to release them to step into the next season. And oddly enough, there was entire section of tiny pink flowers. They were not withered or lacking any life at all. The leaves on the grass were covered in a sparkly frost, and somehow, these flowers held evidence of life and fresh growth.

Do not believe the lie that you are in any way one dimensional. You are allowed to be and feel more than one thing at once. It’s absolutely much more comfy for us to close the chapter on one season and open a brand new book to begin the next, but more often than not, that’s not how it works. 2020 has taught us that much, hasn’t it?

You are allowed to mourn for the reality of what is while still holding onto hope.

You can experience beauty in the midst of death. Gratitude and loss can co-exist. Disappointment and joy can share the same space.

Right now, the world shouts one word as the undercurrent: hopelessness.

Physical and mental health, politics, injustice, education, hate. According to the standards around us, we are in one season of darkness.

But the Lord promises us this:

“It’s impossible to disappear from you or ask the darkness to hide me, for Your presence is everywhere, bringing light into my night. There is no such thing as darkness with You. The night, to You, is as bright as the day; there’s no difference between the two.” [Psalm 139:11 TPT]

Make no mistake, this darkness wants to take you out. As you trudge through virtual learning, or show up every day to the hospital you work at. As you battle the fear of a very real virus, or pray for your sick loved one who is alone in a hospital room. Jesus is bringing light into your night. He is. Sometimes it’s subtle, maybe even slower than we’d like. The catch? We have to look for it.

We don’t have to give in. I’m telling you. This is the secret that the world wants to keep from us. Our God walks with us in the wins and the losses, the death and the life. Let the seasons teach us the lessons of coinciding loss and growth. Let the cold months teach us about quiet and stillness, while the noise of the world swirls around us.

You are are so much more okay than you think.

“Even in times of trouble we have a joyful confidence, knowing that our pressures will develop in us patient endurance. And patient endurance will define our character, and proven character leads us back to hope.”

[Romans 5:3-4 TPT]

I feel so passionate about what I’m about to type I can hardly handle myself. But before we jump right in, I guess I should fill you in on a monumental step in my life.

I put up my Christmas tree. Yes. Thank you for your congratulations. Listen. It’s beautiful. You may admire it now.

It is a new tree we purchased at the end of the season last year. For the last seven years, we’ve put up a little tree with fickle lights and sparse branches. But THIS year… my flocked tree is full with little pinecones and soft lights. It makes me tear up almost daily and I am not sorry.

Can I tell you the truth, though? I’ve put up my tree right after Halloween for the past three years now. And this year is the only year that it has been acceptable to the general public. I have really enjoyed seeing posts all over Instagram and Facebook this year that have essentially said: “2020 has sucked. We need some joy. Christmas can come early: put up the tree.” I mean, I totally agree. But every time I see one of these posts, the deeper corner of my heart asks the question:

Why?

Why are we deciding for one another what is acceptable in their own life to bring them joy? The real truth is that maybe for the first time in many of our lifetimes, we are all experiencing one collective crisis. It is rare for our entire nation to walk through grief, loss, and fear with the same common denominator. It brings us together in a way. It helps us to extend grace to our neighbor. When someone wrongs us or doesn’t seem themselves, our logic tells us that it’s been a hard year and maybe we should cut them some slack.

But here is what I want to scream for the entire world to hear: none of this is new. Sure, Coronavirus and pandemic are words that weren’t in our vocabulary until this past March. But there has always been someone in our life who is walking through a crisis. Grief. Depression. Sickness. Miscarriage. Cancer. Addiction. The list is endless. It just so happens that in 2020, we typically know the root because we’re experiencing it, too.

In 2017, my dad died on Thanksgiving morning. And I vowed to myself that I would never wait again to choose something that brought me joy. And in this season, it’s lights and garland and ornaments. So each year since, when the sun begins to set at 4:30 in the afternoon and we’re disoriented and tired, we will feel cozy and bright because of a Christmas tree in my living room.

This is about so much more than seasonal decor. It’s actually even more than simply extending grace to ourselves or those around us. It’s about humility and surrender. If 2020 has taught us anything, let it be that we simply allow others to cope in the way that works best for them, whether it makes sense to us or not. Let it be acceptable that what brings joy to me may not bring joy to you. Let it be an awakening of empathy. Because, honestly? For many of us, 2020 has not been our worst year. We’ve already walked through that, either through abuse or death or sickness or depression. And we struggled deep on the inside because no one knew about it, and they expected us to live life the way that they perceived as normal.

So the ugly truth is that the numbers 2020 which represent our calendar year do not define our season. When the clock strikes midnight on January 1, 2021, nothing will have magically changed. There is no guarantee that 2021 will be a better year for you.

But you know what is guaranteed? Tomorrow’s mercies are brand new, and Christ’s love is enough. So right now, in this very moment, you have a choice. You are not a slave to the negativity of a season or the date on a calendar. You get to make whatever choice you want right now.

You can say no to the stale Halloween candy and yes to a walk in fresh air.

You can say no to judgement and yes to humility.

You can say no to cynicism and yes to joy and delight.

You can say no to doubt and yes to faith.

You can choose not to be defined by what has happened to you, but by who you were truly created to be.

So who were we truly created to be?

“…[We] are God’s chosen treasure – priests who are kings, a spiritual “nation” set apart as God’s devoted ones. He called [us] out of darkness to experience His marvelous light, and now He claims [us] as His very own. He did this so that [we] would broadcast His glorious wonders throughout the world.” [1 Peter 2:9]

Let’s act like it.

“Mom, I need a piece of paper!“

“Mom, where’s my math book!“

“I need helllllp!“

Without exaggeration, these are the phrases I hear all day long echoing in my kitchen from my little virtual learners. However, you know how young kids have those few words that they mispronounce and it’s just adorable? Olivia still pronounces “need” as “meed.” As in, “Mom, I meed help!” I will never correct her. She will have to learn the correct pronunciation from someone else because I love it too much.

Can I be honest with you, though? This is an ugly kind of honest. In my stretched and weary moments, as questions and requests are flying my way, I can hear my inner voice clearing its throat and asking quietly,

“What about what I need?“

This season of life has very strangely reminded me of life with newborns. Obviously, there are massive differences. There are no diapers, and all of us are sleeping through the night. But I am back to not finding time to take a shower. I can’t find the right time to leave the room because someone might need something. They need me right now in a way they never have before. Sure, we’re getting the hang of virtual learning. Yes, I’m trying to help them learn to be independent. But no one signed up for this. Truth be told, it isn’t fair to anyone: their teachers, me, and definitely not the kids.

The first grade teacher reminded us on Monday that we are in week EIGHT of virtual learning. How did that happen? We have now been living in a global pandemic for eight months, and learning virtually for eight weeks. And somehow, it feels as if nothing has gotten easier.

So let’s be really honest with ourselves. What have we used to cope? It makes no difference if you don’t have kiddos at home or if your job has been affected by this health crisis. In one way or another, everyone’s lives have been altered throughout this past year. And over the past few days, I have felt God gently finding the words to ask me: What are you running to?

I don’t even have to think about my answer. I make a Starbucks and Target run as often as I can. Heck yes, I do. I have eaten just about whatever I wanted because I deserve it for all of the stress I’ve been under. I’ve glued my eyes to Instagram and TikTok because it feels like an escape from my reality.

Let me be clear: we need to escape at times and we need healthy coping mechanisms. But for those of us who feel the tiny pieces of us asking, “What about what I need?” – I’m going to pose the same question to you that I was challenged to answer this week.

Am I coping or am I self-medicating?

What I have found to be true in my own life lately is this: I’ve used the excuse of coping to self medicate and numb my awareness of my need. And here’s what happens when we do this. When we mindlessly fill our own needs, we replace God’s righteous place in our life.

Ruth Chou Simons said it so beautifully:

“God makes us needy that we might find Him generous; He allows us to feel too weak to handle all the details that we might delight in His sovereignty. His attributes and provisions are most clearly seen through the lens of necessity.”

I will never assume anything about your life or how you make space for Jesus. But throughout the years I have learned that if I’m doing it, I’m usually not alone. If Ruth is right, then God has created an insatiable need in our life – not for us to remain empty, but to stay connected to the Source of life. The Word says this exact same truth in these words:

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.” [ John 15:5 ]

What have we allowed to numb our awareness of our need for God? What is it personally for you?

Have you filled your need with Netflix and ice cream? Or maybe you’re the opposite: all of your free time is spent working out and counting calories.

Are you numbing your need with whatever feels easy in the moment? Mindless iPhone games, videos of people you don’t even know?

Are you allowing fear to convince you that it holds God’s place? When you are reminded of your need for God, are the “what-ifs” spreading out in your mind and cutting off your connection to the Vine?

Have you worked hard to be anything but needy; clinging to your independence only to be knocked down by the waves over and over?

Be gentle with yourself as you ask these questions, as God is merciful with you. He is patient and He knows you individually. Becoming sensitive again to our need for God is not always a momentary fix. It is a slow burning away, a tearing down and rebuilding brick by brick kind of work. A refining.

All I know is that I don’t want to feel full anymore from all the wrong things. I don’t want to stay empty from remaining connected to the wrong kind of vine. And my guess is, you are tired of the emptiness, too. It feels complicated but is simple at its core. Run to Jesus. Let Him show you the spaces in you that you have allowed to become numb from the medication the world has prescribed. He promises to hear our cries. He promises what we’re all looking for deep down: kindness and compassion.

“He will care for the needy and neglected when they cry to Him for help. The humble and helpless will know His kindness, for with a Father’s compassion he will save their souls.”

[Psalm 72:12-13]

I’ll be honest with you. I cannot believe that I am still writing about the difficulties of this season. Shouldn’t we have moved onto something new by now? Instead, many of us are simply deeper into a new reality of change. For my family, we are experiencing month eight (!?!?) of my husband working remotely and two months into virtual learning. I truly do not know if anything else has tested my patience or my sanity like virtual learning with a kindergartener and first grader. It is all-consuming. That is not an exaggeration. The past two months have driven me to new facets of exhaustion.

I know I’m not the only one. You many not have children at home, but can we agree on one thing over the past eight months? It has shown us so much of who we truly are. But it has also shown us what are aren’t. We have been walking through a season that has tested every side of our personality, and it’s brought out something we wish would stay hidden. Our weaknesses.

Weakness is both tangible and intangible. It is both physical and emotional. And we fight against both.

Weakness and insecurity are not synonymous. Insecurity says: “I am not enough.” Weakness says: “I will let God be enough.”

Paul tells us that it isn’t enough to simply accept our weaknesses. He says, “For Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” [2 Corinthians 12:10]

My very favorite author, Jennie Allen, says that the anecdote to our cynicism and negativity is delight. When are are in awe of God’s creation, our perspective changes. It is for the glory and the purpose of God that we are not super woman. To delight in our weakness is to marvel at God’s grace and power.

Catch this: if I delight in my weaknesses, I am not failing at anything. I am simply creating space for God to be bigger. This is not simply accepting the pieces of me I don’t like. This is finding complete joy in every single area of my life, longing for ways for God to show Himself stronger than my strongest piece.

Here’s the hard truth: Working to be enough on our own is more than simply detrimental to our lives – it’s an insult to the cross. Any time I put my fear, my need for control, my image of strength – into perspective of God, my Father, sacrificing Jesus for me, I want to melt into a puddle. Every time I fight to push through, I’m telling Jesus I can do it without Him. The moments where I’m rattled because my image isn’t reaching my invisible measuring stick, I’m devaluing the price Jesus paid for my freedom. Not simply eternal life, but freedom here in this life.  

This concept is not designed by God to make us feel small or less than. Rather, it frees us. It is a freeing thought to realize that God doesn’t really need me to be strong. He isn’t impressed when I hold it all together. But I won’t lie; I believe God is impressed with me. And with you. Just not in the way we think. Not like we’re collecting tally marks or stickers on a chart. Have you ever watched a child struggle to attempt a new task? Something you know that you could do twenty times faster, but it’s important that they learn? Like using a fork, tying their shoe, finishing their homework, or having a successful relationship. If God is our perfect Father, I think He delights when we give up our struggle, and turn to Him. We can face everything set in front of us with actual, perfect strength from an omnipotent God, rather than fake it and struggle on our own.

Every time I choose rest over productivity – I am telling everyone around me I trust God with my responsibilities

When I say no to adhere to my boundaries, I am allowing God space to intervene in someone else’s life instead of me.

Every time I ask for help – I am allowing others to serve God by serving me.

Every time I delight in my weakness, I am acknowledging the sovereignty and the power of God in my life.

But here’s the tricky part – we’ve got to name them. This is not self-deprecating or demeaning. Listing out our weaknesses and offering them to God is a beautiful act of surrender. I’ll admit my own here to you in hopes that you will in turn, offer your own to God.

As a mom, I am not enough. I need the Holy Spirit’s wisdom, patience, love and gentleness to be strong in me.

I will boast in my weakness as a wife. On my own, I can be selfish and self serving. In His strength, I have access to real love which does not keep a record of wrongs.

My body is not super human. This time of my life is draining, and I am not a failure because I need to rest more than normal. I will trust in the Lord to be my strength in the moments I need it.

I cannot be everything to everyone. I don’t have all the answers, and I was never designed to. I will trust that God is the Healer and the Protector of those I love. When I love them best, I leave room for God to be the most important One in their life.

Your turn. Where in your life can you delight in the places you are weak? The next time you find yourself disappointed in an area you feel you are lacking, offer it to God and count it as joy to trust that He is truly enough for you.

The amount of change we have been living with truly feels astronomical. As a parent of a kindergartner and first-grader, my heart and my brain have been experiencing some whiplash. Anyone else?

I’ll never forget a moment this summer, while vacationing with my husband’s family at the beach. My son and his cousin are a mere seven months apart, and they are besties. For seven days in a row, the moment their little feet touched the sand, they bee-lined it to the water and floated on their boogey boards for as many hours as we would let them. After years of experiencing the beach with little babies who required so much supervision, this was like a dream come true. They were independent, and having the most amazing time. But there was one afternoon where the tide was coming in instead of going out. The waves were steady and strong. We gave the kids rules about how far to go in, and they were obeying. But in just a moment, the pull of the tide was too strong, and it pulled my nephew far enough away that he couldn’t stand and he couldn’t reach us. It was only a few seconds, and we were able to grab him quickly because we were standing at the water’s edge, but it still felt so scary! The wild thing about the ocean is that although it seems predictable, there is so much more working underneath the surface. The currents are moving and changing constantly.

This is how I would describe the madness of this season. From March until now, we have all been hanging out in the same ocean of water, but the tide goes in and out. Sometimes the waves are stronger than they seem, and even though we’re standing in what we thought was a safe space, the pull underneath the surface takes us by surprise. The force and the frequency of change is astounding.

This season is forcing all of us to readjust over and over again before we ever truly settle. We don’t have time to learn about the previous wave before the next one crashes, trying to take us down.

But the truth about God is that He never changes. And the problem is – we glaze over these words because we’ve heard them before.

Yes, God works in seasons. Yes, He creates brand new creations out of dust – but this doesn’t mean that He is unstable. His words and motives are always aligned with how He’s moved throughout history. Somehow, He is simultaneously surprising and at the same time – so predictable.

When we feel stuck in life or thought processes, psychology tells us to create new pathways of thought in our minds. Our minds get used to the way we think, and they create comfortable routes each time we think the same thought. This season, nothing has been stable enough for us to create any kind of routine thinking. Nothing has remained steady. Nothing has seemed stable.

Except. Jesus.

While the world and even science at times asks us to ground ourselves in what we can see, hear and feel, Jesus is calling us to shift our eyes just a little bit higher. He’s lifting our eyes to meet His. If we find our steady ground in the changing reality around us, we will never find stability. We will never find peace or strength.

As your thoughts, your surroundings, your reality rocks back and forth like a wild ocean, please grab hold of this truth that so often slips out of our grasp:

God never changes.

It feels so simple, doesn’t it? If we could grab hold of this truth, we would not be rocked by the shifting political unrest and hatred. We would not fear our future or the children’s future.

Don’t misunderstand me: we are not immune to the heartache and pain of this life. But when we are tethered to the anchor which is fastened to the mercy seat, it doesn’t define us. Instead, we are defined by a Living Hope and we are held by the great High Priest.

We are not hopeless and we are not helpless. No matter what kind of waves come, or how often they crash, we are held steady. Today, shift your thoughts to the truth that has remained throughout time, rather than the shaky realities of the current culture.

“So it is impossible for God to lie for we know that his promise and his vow will never change! And now we have run into his heart to hide ourselves in His faithfulness. This is where we find His strength and comfort, for He empowers us to seize what has already been established ahead of time – an unshakeable hope!

We have this hope like a strong, unbreakable anchor holding our souls to God Himself. Our anchor of hope is fastened to the mercy seat which sits in the heavenly realm beyond the sacred threshold, and where Jesus, our forerunner, has gone in before us.” [Hebrews 6:18-19 TPT]

To be honest, I’ve found it difficult to write. This is such a bummer for me because writing is my outlet. But through the state of the world and the state of my own home, there has not been much space. Literal or figurative.

Anyone else feeling a little smothered? Trapped? This is turned into more than a few months of an event; this is now life. If you’re like me, allll of the people are home. All the time. There is just no space. No brain space to think, no physical space to be alone. I seriously do love my family. I have prayed hard about allowing God’s perspective of gratitude and wonder to wash over my own. And He has been gracious. But in approximately eight days, my space will condense even more as I take on yet another role as my kid’s teacher at home. Maybe. The details change about every few hours.

The only thing constant about the past six months has been change. Let’s be honest. We’re all skeptical of the truth, aren’t we? What is truly happening around us? Who can we trust? Which information is real? Our physiology is longing for homeostasis: an equilibrium, a balance. The majority of this current year has been the opposite of balanced. It’s been a rocky ship, with rough waves and new winds that seem to come out of nowhere. We have had to be more flexible than ever, and if we’re all honest, we’re just tired. Are you tired? A little weary? What I’ve found within myself is that rather than become attached to all of the emotions assigned to each change, it’s been easier to disengage. It requires less energy to let apathy move into where passion used to live. This is a dangerous place, especially for those of us who live with Jesus as our Savior. We try to compartmentalize our emotions and our passion to only what affects us from the world around us. But we are multi-faceted beings. Each part of us affects the other parts. The danger of disengagement is the slow-motion backing away from our passion for Christ.

We are longing for clarity. We are desperate for answers and for something tangible to cling to. But the reality is this: Jesus never promised us clarity. Here is what He has told us, though. He has promised that when we trust Him:

He will lead us.

He will make our path straight.

He will protect us.

He will fulfill His plans for us.

He will fill us with His Spirit.

 

Subtly and somehow all at once, the evil of this world has caused us to fix our eyes on the current changing events of each day. There’s a reason we are told in Hebrews to “Fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.” It takes a lot of intentionality and work to pull our eyes away from the unfolding events that are fighting for our attention. But we will never find what we are looking for in the world’s daily updates.

We are seeking clarity. We are looking for answers. But the truth is, Jesus is not looking to make your future more clear to you. He wants to become clear to you. The sad reality is that more often than not, we are coming to Jesus for whatever He has to offer us. Jesus is telling us, “I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, He will be saved.” [John 10:9] But let’s be honest. How often do we open up the door, and instead of making eye contact with the giver of life, we first shift our eyes downward to see what He holds in His hands to give us? Or we peer around Him altogether, to search for what other answers He may be hiding from us?

He’s begging us to see: the answers are not hidden somewhere behind Him. He is the answer. God is not interested in you having a clear picture as much as He is interested in how clear He is to you.

Where have your eyes been fixed over the past six months?

Are they focused on your future plans? Are they fixated on the numbers scrolling across the bottom of your TV screen? Are they stuck, locked in fear of the possibility of sickness? Are they fixed on every problem in front of you?

Listen. I am with you. My problems feel very big. The amount of change is so overwhelming. The pull of disengagement is so strong. Jesus has never asked us to disregard our reality. But He is asking to be magnified in our eyes. When He becomes bigger, our reality feels manageable. Because with Him, all things are possible.

Fix your eyes on Him. The Author of your story, the perfecter and the giver of your faith and your passion. Jehovah Rapha, your Healer. He is your protector and your safe place.

 

Jesus,

Rather than repeatedly asking you to make my future more clear, would You become more clear to me? I ask that you help me to let go of the things that I have held onto so tightly; my own vision that may not have enough space for you. Lord, when my eyes are fixed on you, the details of my today and my tomorrow fade away. You have created paths before me for me to walk in. You have prepared and created good works for me in advance, so I trust that you will lead me to them as I simply make myself available to you.

You are my good Father – and you hold every intricate detail so I don’t have to. Let the details I seek be about You. Teach me more of who You are. Everything I need in my life is wrapped up in and held by You. You made me in Your image – a reflection of your creation. Teach me who You are, and as I discover more about you, teach me who you say I am.

Amen.