dependence

You Were Called To This: encouragement for when God is doing something…but I’m confused

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It’s officially December. Are you taking in the lights and the music and breathing easy? Are you soothed and energized by all the gatherings and baking and letters and gift lists? Are you soaking up all that comes with Christmas? Does it feel like all is well, all is calm, all is bright?

Or are you feeling the stress? Are you under some pressure? If your answer is yes, I’m right there with you.

Looking back on this year, has it gone to plan for you? Have you faced a plot twist at some point? Have you been bowled over by something you didn’t plan for?

Many of you know that my story has taken a couple weird turns over the last 2 years. Cody and I finished up language study in Papua New Guinea in June of 2021 and everything was in place for us to transition into the flight ministry we had been training so long and hard for. We found out in July that we were expecting our second baby, and THEN the plot twists started rolling in.

I got sicker and sicker until the doctors in Papua New Guinea sent us back to the USA for a higher level medical care to manage the pregnancy. My OB set me up with IV therapy and an ongoing pump for nausea medicine, but then I was in and out of the hospital for abnormal heart rhythms. I delivered the baby safely only to find out two weeks later he had swelling, bleeding, cysts, and missing tissue in his brain. We tried to prepare ourselves for brain surgery and then the Lord answered prayer and the swelling stabilized with just medicine. Then he weaned from medicine and started meeting his milestones!

I thought “Maybe we’re going to be okay after all. Maybe, we’re finally headed back!” but his neuro team wanted to watch him for another 6 months. During that 6 months, Benaiah did fine, but my heart rhythms worsened and we discovered a tumor in my neck.  Benaiah was cleared by neuro in October and we got a surgical plan in place with Mayo Clinic for my tumor. Then my surgeon got better imaging and decided it was too dangerous to remove the tumor after all. He cancelled surgery, but reassured me that it will “probably” stay benign. I took a week or two to absorb that, thought I was ready to rally, and then Cody had an abnormal stress test and was referred for imaging of his heart.

Wave after wave after wave. I feel like I am a type A personality being crushed into a type B. You know how people choose life verses? For a while there, mine was Proverbs 20:24:

“The LORD directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?”

For a long time here, my life theme has been: “God’s doing something, but I’m confused.”

After Benaiah was born, I went through a Bible Study on Hebrews by Jen Wilkin with my sisters and there were two ideas she discussed in that study that changed that perspective for me.

The first was the challenge to dwell in the “I don’t know.” Jen Wilkin prefaced the study by explaining the being confused is PART OF the learning process, and if we try to rush to understanding, we miss things. So it was a timely reminder for me to settle in and get comfortable with the tension of what is unresolved and unclear to me – it’s an indicator that God is teaching me something – and it may take time.

The second was a statement that has been so life-giving to me over this past year and a half: “For the believer, trials and difficulty aren’t punishment, they’re training.”

She brought up the simple fact that because our sins are paid for, the challenges we go through here on earth are not God’s punishment. We dwell in the unchanging, unwavering favor and approval of God that was secured for us by Christ’s perfect and satisfactory sacrifice on the cross. So, we don’t have to look at the hardships we’re facing and scratch our heads trying to figure out “What was that for?” We can just buckle up for what the Lord is going to TEACH us through it.

Last month, I spent some time in 1 Peter and I came across these verses:

“When you do good and suffer, if you endure it, this brings favor with God. For you were called to this, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in His steps…when He suffered He did not threaten, but entrusted Himself to the One who judges justly.”

–1 Peter 2:20, 23

Peter was writing to some stressed out people. He wrote to encourage them to stand firm in the midst of persecution. These guys were feeling the pressure. They were dealing with loss and threat and grief. Their lives were not looking like this beautiful example of God’s favor and blessing and provision. It would be easy to look around and say “Hold on! I’m just trying to do what’s right here, and it’s all falling apart! What am I getting wrong?”

When it comes to that mess and that pain and that confusion, Peter reassures them with these 5 words:

“You were called to this.”

Those words floored me. It was like the Lord took this blurry, confusing, “why try to understand?” section of my life and brought it into focus.

The hard things He allows in my life and yours aren’t just disruptions. They’re a calling.

And He left us an example for how to face hard callings. Again, Verse 20 and 23 say,

“For you were called to this, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in His steps…when He suffered He did not threaten, but entrusted Himself to the One who judges justly.”

How do I face hard callings? I entrust myself to the One who judges justly and I endure it.

You know what trust looks like? It’s quiet. It waits. It offers itself up as a slave and as a sacrifice to the One who will never waste what I offer.

Christ’s example did not have eyes fixed downward, despairing at the difficulty and loss, or behind, trying to make sense of the story, but upward, declaring “Yet I want your will.” And forward, to the joy set before Him.

That’s the only way I will be able to follow his example of entrusting and enduring:

To gaze, that is, to take a long look:

At the joy, not the loss.

At the Father, not the trouble.

At what’s ahead, not at what’s right in front of me, and not at all I still have to trudge through.

To look past the labor pains, to the new baby

Past the hardest leg of the race, to the rest and satisfaction of the finish line,

Past this body, to the new one,

Past the suffering, to the glory that outweighs it.

To be in it and yet look past it.

When I’m losing heart, When I am twisted into knots of grief and confusion; trying to make sense of what God has allowed into my life, what if I surrendered the need to understand? What if I entrusted myself to Him?

What if I looked at the most difficult and painful parts of my story as a calling? A calling where He promises to strengthen me with such endurance that my hope in Him survives it? A calling that Immanuel, God WITH us, has promised to walk WITH me through and that He has marched out in front of me, entrusting and enduring, looking up and looking forward, so that I would know the steps to get through it, too?

“…Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race

God has set

Before us.”

–Hebrews 12:1

You and I did not set the race that is before us right now. We did not choose the course. Believe me, I would have picked a smoother one. But we were called to this.

“So, if you are suffering in a manner that pleases God, keep on doing what is right, and trust your lives to the God who created you, for He will never fail you.”

–1 Peter 4:19

Oh Lord,

As the pace of life accelerates, may I hold up for just a minute to take a long look at you, in all your perfection, and adore you.

Thank you for your faithfulness to me, your compassion for me, and the example you’ve given me of entrusting yourself to the One who will never fail me. Help me to lay aside the burdens so my hands are free to reach for you and my heart is light to hope in you and my voice is steady to sing your praises. In my suffering, you are working, you are worthy. Lord, help me not to lose sight of that.

When You’re Facing a Boulder

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“Therefore we do not give up. Even thought our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary, light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. “

–2 Corinthians 4:16-17

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It’s been another crazy month of appointments, procedures, and questions. There were truck repairs and medical bills. My surgeon cancelled the tumor resection, my cardiologist is adding a new med and getting another MRI of my heart, Benaiah got ear tubes, and Cody’s getting some testing on his heart as well. It feels like a lot and I’m still absorbing the new information and wrestling with it.

I know a lot of you are probably facing pressures and stresses just like we are, and I wanted to encourage you with this thought: Nobody looks at a 500 lb boulder and thinks, “that’s light.” Boulders are heavy. But if you weigh that boulder next to a Mack truck – the boulder is light because the Mack truck outweighs it. 

It’s not that our troubles are no big deal – they are truly heavy and difficult. It’s just that when you put them on the scale across from the weight of the good that’s coming, they are light by comparison. No matter how heavy the situation you’re facing feels, it’s a boulder of burden opposite a giant Mac truck loaded down with so much good it would break the road scale. When all you can see is the boulder, remember that the truck is en route.

This is a really hard lesson to grasp, and my heart is learning it over and over again right now. We are trying to remember for all we’re worth that our God is faithful to us, that He’s not wasting the things that make us weary, and that He is building something so good, even on the days where it feels like nothing is coming together. 

He can surely use every struggle, every hardship, every weakness, and every delay. He can fill in our gaps, provide where we lack, and move in ways we cannot even imagine.

Lord,

You are ABLE both to lift me up when it’s fitting – to remove what I am persevering under; AND to give me the power to endure the entire time that it is difficult, long-lasting, unclear, and painful. You know I’m longing for the first thing, but perhaps the second thing is even more impressive. Not just that you can bring me out of this, but that you can enable me to wait without losing hope.

A poem by Amy Carmichael – scribbled down in my journal

Sled Dogs: how to regain endurance in harsh conditions

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“…Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”

–Hebrews 12:1


This has been a stressful, emotionally exhausting couple of months. The needs, the appointments, the tests, the new problems cropping up, the hum of uncertainty in the back of my brain, the internal pressure to do something! – but the external reality that there’s not a lot I can do to speed anything up or solve it.

I have pushed to the absolute end of my capacity, waiting for answers, resolution, and a plan to manage what’s wrong and move forward with life.  I crossed into a doctor’s office and gripped his hand with relief because finally, the waiting was over, but he didn’t have the answers. The threshold of his door wasn’t a finish line, it was just the first step of the next lap of the race.

If ever there was a time to strip off extra weight, it’s now.

Are you there, too? Are your steps growing heavy? Are you trying to rally, but you have even further to go than you thought?

I appreciated, as I read this verse in Hebrews, that it dealt with weight and sin as two distinct concepts. It mentioned “every weight” and then talked about sin in particular. But sin’s not the only thing that weighs us down. Our lives get hit with heavy things that aren’t our fault. Doing a word study on “weight” got me laughing because one of the definitions was “a mass.” I’m still coming to terms with the news that I have a mass in my neck; it’s been a heavy knowledge. Yet…somehow, I can choose to strip off enough weight to run with a light heart. But how? Anyone else out there struggling with how in the world you strip off the weight of something you can’t resolve?

“We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame…”

–Hebrews 12:2

I loved this verse…until this month. You do it by keeping your eyes on Jesus. But how? HOW do I keep my eyes on Jesus with all this going on? I am not someone who ignores even minor distractions easily, so telling me to tear my eyes away from this felt like an impossible ask. I am not great at laying aside every weight.

When we lived up in Washington State, Cody got me a husky mix puppy for Christmas. True to her breed, she loved nothing more than to run hard and be in the snow, so we put together a make-shift sled and started training her to pull us. When we taught her sled dog commands, I thought we would just need four directions. If I could get her to go, stop, turn left and turn right, that would be enough, right? Wrong.

She’s not a car. She’s a dog. Dogs are not only taking in your directions, they’re taking in their surroundings, and, especially as puppies, they see a lot of things that are more interesting to them than the straight track ahead.

So, there is a special command for when you see they’ve become distracted and you realize they are about to go off track. “On by.” It means, “Leave that alone. Keep going.”

We’re also not cars. We’re people. We’re not just blindly responding to directions. We are also taking in our surroundings. There’s the load on the sled that we were designed to carry, and then there’s the extra workload of plowing through heavy snow off-trail because we’re angling toward a distraction. So Hebrews 12:1 tells us, “On by – Leave that alone. Keep going.”

How does keeping our eyes on Jesus help us do that? He’s the one ahead of us on the trail. We’re running in his tracks. And He finished. So, we can finish. He hit the cross, and he kept on going for the sake of the joy set before Him. He’s the one that proves we can make it past the difficulty, and that what’s waiting for us on the other side is worth it.

You can’t control the wildlife, and the trail we’re on is not tame. So, what’s the best way to not get killed by a moose or a bear you’ve noticed out in the brush? Keep your eyes on the trail and run hard. Don’t turn toward the distraction. Leave it alone and keep going. On by.

“When the Spirit of truth comes, He will guide you into all truth…He will bring me glory by telling you whatever He receives from me.”

–John 16:13-14

Jesus marked out the trail, then He sent his Spirit to run it with us. He is with us every step of the race, coaching us, directing us, and warning us. We stay light-hearted and on track by keeping our eyes on the Champion who finished the race out in front of us and our ears tuned in to the Musher who urges us on from behind.

So what about the things that ARE our fault?

People are all so different and all sorts of different things trip us up. For me, as I considered this verse, I asked: Lord…I’m having a really hard time enduring. I can’t control the external difficulties, and they do affect me. But will you show me where there is something on my part that is tripping me up?

And man, did it hit me like a stack of bricks.

You worry.

Oh. That’s just me trying to prepare.

I’ve already prepared you.

I get why the verse says it so easily trips me up. Worry is the thing I most easily justify. It’s the thing in me that runs absolutely rampant if I give it even the slightest foothold.

If the musher tells the dog to keep going, and the dog tries to run straight, but keeps eye-balling something off to the side, she can get tangled up in the lines. So. Easily. Even obedient steps can lose a lot of their strength to a heart that’s in knots.

If you’re waiting for me to resolve this one for you, I can’t yet. It’s the thing that so easily trips me up. And every time I’ve gained some momentum in the area of saying “no” to worry, the Lord has entrusted me with a harder thing to practice with. So far, I’ve never succeeded at that harder thing on the first try.

I’ll just encourage you with the reminder that He’s patient. And everyone has a thing that so easily trips them up. So, it can be valuable to ask Him what that is for you, keep an eye out for it, and get into the practice of inviting Him to come untangle the lines for you as often as you need Him to, so you can regain your endurance for the run ahead.

“Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1)

Here’s my last thought for you, especially if, like me, you feel weary and frustrated with how the run has gone so far: I didn’t choose the course.

Believe me, if I had, this is not what it would look like. The course I prepared for didn’t have sharp turns or slippery ice, and I could maneuver it without tipping the sled or getting tangled in the lines. The course I prepared for made me look impressive. But that is not the course God set for me.

He set this one. And it is not easy and I am not navigating it smoothly. I don’t look as good as I want to. It is revealing a lot of my weaknesses. In fact, I think for some of this, I have been the pitiful, injured dog that’s riding in the sled while her foot gets a break. There’s just not a whole lot of glory in that. There are easier races. Races where I could have been a front-runner. This one is above my skill level and it does not play to my strengths. But it’s the one He chose for me, and I trust His choice.

So can you.

When we make it to the finish, it will be His skill that got us there. It will be His victory. His trophy. His glory.

But you know what I saw in every single picture of the Iditarod champions, year after year? It wasn’t a lone racer, standing tall, and proudly holding up his trophy. It was a grinning Musher, seated on the podium, hugging his dogs close.

So, when the conditions are harsh and your endurance is flagging, remember who’s running this race with you. He loves you. He’s with you each step of the way. His voice is directing your steps, urging you to keep going, reminding you to keep your eyes on the trail and not to take on extra weight. He’s there to untangle you when you get knotted up. He knows you, He chose this course and He has the skill to navigate you through it. This will not be easy, but it will be worth it. And when you finally pull across that finish line, He’s the kind of champion who pulls you up on the podium with Him to hold you close and share the glory.

“And when Christ, who is your life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in all His glory.”

–Colossians 3:4

“I am writing to all who have been called by God the Father, who loves you and keeps you safe in the care of Jesus Christ…Now all glory to God, who is able to keep you from falling away and will bring you with great joy into His glorious presence without a single fault.”

–Jude 1, 24

Look Harder: a gentle first step when your eyes are cast down

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“Consider the ravens: They don’t sow or reap; they don’t have a storeroom or a barn; yet God feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than the birds?”

–Luke 12:24

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I am in an ongoing learning process in my battle with worry, fear, and stress. This past two weeks, we had another round of overwhelm.

Cody went in for emergency surgery to deal with a sudden case of appendicitis and my doctor put in some orders for bloodwork and imaging to get a clearer picture of what’s going on with me. One thing she wanted was a brain MRI. I’m still not quite over the last time our family went through getting a brain MRI “just to rule something out.”

And so, these past two weeks have highlighted where I still struggle in this learning process, especially with waiting and with fear. One thing I have noticed in my reading is that God does not just say what NOT to do or think. He directs us in what TO do and think.

He doesn’t just say, “Don’t be afraid.”

He says, “Take courage, I am here.” (Matthew 14:27)

As I read through Luke 12 this week, the heading in my Bible caught my attention: “The Cure for Anxiety.”

The cure? Does anxiety have a cure? I have only ever seen management for anxiety in the medical field. Meds and processes and tools to lessen its effects. I’ve never had a patient tell me, “Oh, I used to have anxiety, but it’s cured.”

The title isn’t part of God’s inspired word, it was a section label added later. But after so many passages of Jesus dealing with the incurable: leprosy, years of bleeding, blindness, muteness, deafness, paralysis; I thought it was spot on, to take what he said about anxiety and call it the cure. Because “cure” is what He can do with things that men can only manage.

I live with the proof.

And so I looked past “Do not worry” and hunted for what Jesus said TO DO. Where is the Siloam pool He directs us to go wash in for this blindness? And He repeated it for me, so I wouldn’t miss it.

He didn’t just say, “Don’t worry.” He said, “Consider.”

Right! I thought. Fix my eyes on Jesus! That’s always the answer.

But no. Not exactly. Not this time. For weariness, He says “Consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls.” (Hebrews 12:3). For endurance, He says “We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith…” (Hebrews 12:2). But for anxiety, Christ himself, who held in his hands the ability to heal our torment, said to look at something else.

“Consider the ravens: They don’t sow or reap; they don’t have a storeroom or a barn; yet God feeds them.” (Luke 12:24)

“Consider how the wildflowers grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these.” (Luke 12:27)

I looked up this word that is translated “Consider” in Greek, and this is what I found:

It is the word katanoēsate (κατανοήσατε) – from kata: “down into,” and noeó: “think/understand/realize.” It means to take note of, consider carefully, make account of, or discern. Properly, “to think from up to down.” To understand fully, to consider closely. The word expresses real comprehending: considering attentively until reaching a clear and definite understanding.

There’s a scene in the animated movie The Lion King, where the wise baboon Rafiki promises Simba he can show him his father, then leads him to a pool and tells him to look into the water. Simba peers over the edge and then lets out a defeated sigh, “That’s not my father, it’s just my reflection.”

“No,” Rafiki grabs his head and points back at the water, “Look harder. He lives in you.”

It’s the best visual I can come up with for what “Consider” means here. “Look harder. Look more closely. Think from up to down until you understand more fully.”

Look harder at the birds and the wildflowers, at these “cures” for my thinking that my Heavenly Father has placed all around me, until I reach real comprehending of what they mean:

Birds don’t store up.

Wildflowers aren’t the result of someone’s carefully tended garden.

And yet look at them, thriving.

Next, Jesus asks two questions:

  1. “Aren’t you worth much more than the birds?” (Luke 12:24)
  2. “How much more will He do for you?” (Luke 12:28)

He says “Don’t worry.” And then He tells me what TO DO instead.

Think this: “Your Father knows that you need these things.” (Luke 12:30)

Do this: Seek His kingdom, give to the poor, and store up inexhaustible treasure in Heaven instead of frantically gathering and trying to hold onto what you can here on Earth. (Luke 12:31-34)

Because why would you store up something that’s going to be GIVEN to you?

This summer, we got to visit Melvin and Brenda, one of the awesome couples who has taught and mentored us over the last several years. I shared with them how it had felt to be so spent and so frightened that I went limp. How disappointed I was that I froze and ended up depending on the faith and the prayers of others; that I despaired for my son, while others kept hoping and asking that God would rescue him.

Melvin told me I was not alone. There have been moments where he has gone limp, and that his rule for seasons like this is to have four good friends. Like the paralyzed man who couldn’t get himself to the feet of Jesus, but let himself be carried, lifted, and lowered by friends who were determined to get him to the place of help, we may face times where we know we need the Lord, but we are so bowled over by what we are going through, that we feel too weak to even carry ourselves to Him.

Melvin said those are the moments to invite four good friends, one for each corner of your mat, to carry you to the feet of Jesus, to intercede for you, to rip open the roof, and to beg Him to help you. And that, when you can walk again, it’s time to grab a corner of the mat and carry someone who can’t.

I think that’s one reason “consider the birds” and “consider the flowers” hit me differently this time. Because I know what it is to know God is right and good and able and that what I need is to fix my eyes on Jesus, and yet to be bowed down by so much pain and fear that I struggle to lift my eyes and meet his gaze.

And in those moments, the One who gently calls me to come to Him and find his rest, points to a simple first step when my eyes are cast down:

Are you so stressed and anxious that it’s hard to see me? Does it feel impossible to fix your gaze on me? Then look around you, at what you CAN see.

Wildflowers. Birds. Common. I’ve put them everywhere so you are never without the reminder.

See them? Good. Now look harder. Consider what they mean.

When you cannot see my face or understand my heart, look at how I care for the small things that are not near as valuable to me or as lasting as you are. This is what it means: I will absolutely care for you.

No matter what it looks like, when you’re going under, look again. Still don’t see your Father? Look harder.

“Then he said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, don’t worry about your life, what you will eat; or about the body, what you will wear. 23 For life is more than food and the body more than clothing. 24 Consider the ravens: They don’t sow or reap; they don’t have a storeroom or a barn; yet God feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than the birds? 25 Can any of you add one moment to his life span[d] by worrying? 26 If then you’re not able to do even a little thing, why worry about the rest?

27 “Consider how the wildflowers grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these. 28 If that’s how God clothes the grass, which is in the field today and is thrown into the furnace tomorrow, how much more will he do for you—you of little faith? 29 Don’t strive for what you should eat and what you should drink, and don’t be anxious. 30 For the Gentile world eagerly seeks all these things, and your Father knows that you need them.

31 “But seek his kingdom, and these things will be provided for you. 32 Don’t be afraid, little flock, because your Father delights to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Make money-bags for yourselves that won’t grow old, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

–Luke 12:22-34

Here’s a song I wrote about considering the lilies:

Never Enough: bold desires and broken cisterns

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“Commit your works to the Lord and your plans will be established.”

–Proverbs 16:3

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It was time to push the button.

Years of crafting, editing, tweaking, molding this message that had become so anchoring and life-giving to my own heart in my own hardships, and now it was about to be a book. Surreal.

It’s hard to describe the combination of excitement and ache I felt in that moment. Thrill at the idea of this blessing people, of people loving it and enjoying it and sitting at the feet of their Savior because of it. Dread because I didn’t know what to expect. This is self-publishing after all. Would people only buy it because they wanted to be a help to me, or would it hold its own value? I had poured my heart out across these pages. Would there be crickets?

I breathed a prayer and clicked “Publish.” Then I cracked open my Bible and stared at this verse. “Commit your works to the Lord and your plans will be established.” (Proverbs 16:9)

I looked up “works.” It came from the Hebrew maaseh – activity, labor, practice, vocation, workmanship, actions, achievements, accomplishments, art. Perfect! Labor, workmanship, art – what a cool fleshing out of that word – it sounds a lot like my book, a book I’m committing to the Lord!

I looked up “plans.” It came from the Hebrew machashabah – thoughts, designs, intentions, plans, purposes, plots, schemes. Yes. This resonates with me too! I have purposes, designs and intentions for what I want this book to accomplish that matter a LOT to me!

I looked up “established.” It came from the Hebrew kun – firm, set in order, reliable, carried, appointed, confirmed, made sure, maintained in position. So good. Only the Lord can carry and maintain in position the work I’ve entrusted to Him. I do not have the power to establish it.

Then, for fun, I looked up “commit,” not thinking I would learn a whole lot, because, how much is there really to the verb “commit?” It just means to trust, right?

It had a few translations, but one definition: “to roll away.”

That gave me pause. The establishing of those deep desires for the work that is so precious to me? It depends on rolling it away, into the hands of the One who can make it firm.

That’s not the same as gesturing to a corner of it and asking Him to team-lift with me. This is not sharing the load. This is rolling it completely onto His shoulders, and leaving mine free to take up His yoke. I give Him my work and take up His rest. I labor and craft and pour my heart into something. And then I surrender it – for Him to do whatever He pleases with it.

Why is that tricky? Because it’s a lot of heart work to balance sharing boldly out of your gifting and remembering that if the Lord uses it, it’s not about you.

“The lust to be noticed and appreciated will never be satisfied. It has to be crucified.”

-Gary Thomas, Cherish

Some of my desire is to build up other believers:

“Even so you, since you are zealous for spiritual gifts, let it be for the edification of the church that you seek to excel.” (1 Corinthians 14:12)

Some of my desire is to glorify God:

“He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)

Those are desires I think the Lord delights to establish.

But some of my desire is to receive enough affirmation to combat some deep-seated beliefs I battle: that I am burdensome, not keeping up, and not wanted. And no matter how many beautiful reviews or encouraging comments I receive, they will never be enough. The Lord has given me enough proof in HIS word that those thoughts are not true; He will not establish my desire to supplement it with man’s words.

“The fear of man is a dangerous trap but trusting the Lord means safety” (Proverbs 29:25). Placing my trust back in Him and His word, day in and day out, as often as I feel insecure, is a lot of work. I am often tempted to seek out and settle for the approval of man. And it would not be loving for God to provide fuel for the fire at the altar of that idol.

In His love, He may give me some encouraging glimpses that He’s using my work, that He’s established it. But He will not establish my desire to find security in broken cisterns. They can produce no steadiness in my life.

I glanced at the cover of my book and chuckled at my own mixed-up heart. “One thing is needed, Beka.” And my Savior’s desire for me is that I find it, again and again and again, and let my roots grow down deep into it. That I would be empowered with inner strength, rather than chase and grasp after external reassurance. That I would experience His love and take on His humility so that I am not thrown by being overlooked. That I would receive from Him a steadiness that is not littered or poisoned by fear that I am not loved enough or will not have enough.

“I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.” (Ephesians 3:16-19)

I opened up my journal and wrote this:

Lord…please take this book – my art and labor and design – and spread it far and wide and move people to sit at your feet, to listen to you, to fix their eyes on you, to trust you, to find healing in you, to take courage from you. Use my book to deepen people’s relationship with you. I do not have the connections to get this resource as far as I want it to go. But I’ve written my story and my challenge to believe you faithful into it. So Lord, give it wings. Take it further and use it more powerfully than I could ever imagine. Break it and bless it and feed 5000. Here is my jug of water. Only you can make it wine.

But You must increase. I must decrease. Give me the heart to see I have nothing and did nothing that was not given to me. You are faithful to me with your unfailing love, so help me to endure the quiet when there is a void of feedback. Teach me to crucify the lust to be noticed and appreciated. Make my soul’s desire pure to see you increase. You alone.

A few weeks later, upon reading one of the kindest reviews ever, I was thrown. I just did not know how to answer. You’ll laugh at me, but I’m telling the truth: I googled “humble Christian author responses to compliments.” And I came across an article that said this:

“Humility is not a response. It’s a heart attitude.” – Jonathan Malm

Ouch. You can’t google your way to a right response here, Beka. You need your Savior to transform your attitude. And you’ll keep needing Him. And He’ll keep being all you need.

Oh Lord,

A humble heart doesn’t stress about how to respond humbly. It just does, flowing from a humble source – not itself – but YOU. Meek and lowly. The One who calls prideful, weary hearts like mine to come and rest.

Humble my heart, Lord, and give me your rest, please. Master, do as you will with my life, provide what you will. I commit my book, my work, my voice, and my life to you.

Establish it.

The Lord Is Building: the reason for confidence when the way before us is unclear

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“Unless the Lord builds a house,
    the work of the builders is wasted.
Unless the Lord protects a city,
    guarding it with sentries will do no good.
It is useless for you to work so hard
    from early morning until late at night,
anxiously working for food to eat;
    for God gives rest to his loved ones.”

–Psalm 127:1-2

—

April 25, 2023

It’s Day Five up at Guthrie Lake, Michigan. My mom and dad come up this early every year to open the cabin for rentals after the long winter. I’m glad we decided to come along this year. It’s been sweet. Peaceful. Also exhausting. Funny that those things can co-exist. That you can be so physically drained and yet find that some of your inner wrestling has settled. I think living a different rhythm for a minute has given some needed space to sit with the changes, to ask questions, to gain clarity and to acknowledge what remains unresolved.

My whole family is sick. I’m now using an inhaler multiple times a day. We’ve had many, many Abi tantrums. Failures, tears, walks in the woods, and grace. Cold weather and aching throats. Fussy baby, another ear infection, rocking by the fire at 2 a.m., and discovering beaver-chewed trees. Another round of searching for houses in the woods on the water. Nothing’s turning up that we can afford. Cody seems like if we found something, he’d want to go for it – to set us up with housing for furloughs – with land we can start paying off and renting out while we’re overseas, maybe even blessing other families with it as we’re able to. I, too, have a growing desire to own a place that confuses me sometimes…but I have a lot of hesitation about the amount of stress it could add to our lives this year as we prepare in so many other ways to return to life and ministry overseas. Especially just coming out of my weakest, shakiest years ever, it’s hard to judge where I am strong enough to face risk and challenge again, and where I will buckle if I push too soon.

Here’s what I keep coming back to:

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the work of the builders is wasted…it is useless for you to work so hard from early morning until late at night, anxiously working…”

–Psalm 127:1-2

God says that the anxious work that robs me of rest is useless. Wasted. What the Lord builds, that’s what stands. How much restlessness have I endured, so concerned about whether dearly-held hopes for my life will come together, instead of standing in confidence that the Lord is building – and that what He is building will stand?

“The Lord will work out his plans for my life – for your faithful love, O Lord, endures forever…”

–Psalm 138:8

“The Lord directs the steps of the godly.
    He delights in every detail of their lives.”

–Psalm 37:23

God is a good communicator. He is the source of peace. He is able to lead and guide me every step of the way. He’s building the details of my small life, and with it, He is also building something so much bigger. I have every reason for confidence.

“For you are my hiding place;
    you protect me from trouble.
    You surround me with songs of victory. 

The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life.
    I will advise you and watch over you.”

–Psalm 32:7-8

Lord,

My whole heart is before you. Not just with thoughts of a settling place for my family when we face transition again, but with all our hopes, all that we’ve worked toward, and all our worries and burdens.

I want to rest content, holding all that I do not yet grasp in surrender. I want to walk bravely, thoughtfully, patiently, and humbly. I want to work with all my might and rest when it’s warranted, even when the need for rest comes unexpectedly.

Lord, quiet my anxious heart. Give us lamplight for the next step. Give us unity and peace if you are granting us a desire that takes risk. Help us to wait on you. Encourage our hearts for the calling of parenting our kids and shepherding them toward you. Fix my gaze on you alone.

My work is in vain unless you carry it out.

So I will not labor anxiously, striving to bring about things that I cannot. Not in my life, not with my kids, not even in my own heart. I must hold in view who does the work.

I will hold out for what you are giving and labor heartily according to the route you are carrying us along, even when it confuses me.

Give us understanding, Lord – that we may use our small strength well – given to the One who can multiply it.

Saddle Your Donkey and Go: when you’re deeply troubled, don’t stop short

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“…He said to Gehazi, “Look, the woman from Shunem is coming. Run out to meet her and ask her, ‘Is everything all right with you, your husband, and your child?’”

“Yes,” the woman told Gehazi, “everything is fine.”

But when she came to the man of God at the mountain, she fell to the ground before him and caught hold of his feet. Gehazi began to push her away, but the man of God said, “Leave her alone. She is deeply troubled, but the Lord has not told me what it is.”

–2 Kings 4:25-27

This is the story of a woman who never thought she’d be able to have children. After she used her resources really generously to care for Elisha, God’s prophet, he promised that she’d have a son within a year. She’d given without asking for anything in return and hearing this, she begged Elisha not to get her hopes up. But sure enough, in a year’s time, she was holding the baby boy she hadn’t dared to hope or ask for.

Then the story takes a brutal turn. The boy grows until he’s old enough to head out to the fields with his dad. One morning, while they’re out working, he suddenly starts screaming that his head hurts. Reading this less than a year out from our ordeal with Benaiah’s brain scans, you know at this point, this story had me tense in a whole new way.

The dad sends his kid home to mom, who holds him in her lap. By noon, the baby boy she hadn’t dared to hope or ask for is dead.

I have no idea how I would have reacted. After two days of testing in the hospital, the doctor brought me a pretty scary list of things they’d found on Benaiah’s imaging. Cody had been holding down the fort at home and I’d been handling the baby and his care up until that point, but as soon as that doctor left the room, I got on the phone with Cody.

“It’s time for you to come now. I need you.”

I would have expected the Woman from Shunem to send the servant running for her husband. “Come back from the fields. Come now. I need you. My whole world has just fallen apart. I can’t face this alone.”

Instead, she sent this message:

“Send one of the servants and a donkey so that I can hurry to the man of God and come right back.”

“Why go today?” he asked. “It is neither a new moon festival nor a Sabbath.”

But she said, “It will be all right.”

So she saddled the donkey and said to the servant, “Hurry! Don’t slow down unless I tell you to.”

–2 Kings 4:22-24

The woman didn’t call for her husband. She didn’t call for a doctor. She didn’t run to her mom. She didn’t settle for Elisha’s servant. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. She waved them off. AKA: You are not the one who can help me and I’m not stopping one single step short of God himself. She high-tailed it straight to the man of God and fell at his feet. Elisha tried to send her back home with his staff and his servant.

“But the boy’s mother said, “As surely as the Lord lives and you yourself live, I won’t go home unless you go with me.” So Elisha returned with her.“

–2 Kings 4:30

And through Elisha, this woman got her son back. Back from the dead. It’s only the second time this has ever happened in all of history. And God did it for the woman who saddled a donkey and ran straight to Him for help. I laughed a little to myself at her laser focus.

Her husband tries to ask what’s going on and her response is “It will be all right.” Nope. You can’t do anything about this. Not you.

Gehazi, the right-hand man of God’s prophet, recognizes her, greets her, tries to check in on her and her family. Her response: “Yes. Everything is fine.” Nope. You can’t do anything about this. Not you.

She gets to the feet of Elisha, the one through whom she can access the words of Jehovah Himself, and she hangs on for dear life.

“Did I ask you for a son, my lord? And didn’t I say, ‘Don’t deceive me and get my hopes up’?”

It reminded me of the time King Hezekiah got a letter threatening the total destruction of Judah. He didn’t write back or hold a press conference or summon his advisors. He hurried to the temple, spread out the letter before the Lord, and begged for help:

“O Lord, God of Israel, you are enthroned between the mighty cherubim! You alone are God of all the kingdoms of the earth. You alone created the heavens and the earth. Bend down, O Lord, and listen! Open your eyes, O Lord, and see! Listen to Sennacherib’s words of defiance against the living God….Now, O Lord our God, rescue us from his power; then all the kingdoms of the earth will know that you alone, O Lord, are God.”

–2 Kings 19:15-19

It reminded me of King Jehoshaphat who, having received word that three nations had formed a vast army and were marching toward Jerusalem that very moment, begged the Lord for guidance, headed to the Temple courtyard and before all his people, prayed for help:

“O Lord, God of our ancestors, you alone are the God who is in heaven. You are ruler of all the kingdoms of the earth. You are powerful and mighty; no one can stand against you!.. O our God, won’t you stop them? We are powerless against this mighty army that is about to attack us. We do not know what to do, but we are looking to you for help.”

-2 Chronicles 20:6, 12

I like this straightforward approach. When you have a God-sized problem, don’t stop short of Him. Hurry to the place where you can hear his words. Ask your questions. Beg for help. Wait and see what He will do, who He will send. But don’t settle for any person, no matter how impressive or well-meaning, on your way to lay a problem before him.

Don’t wrack your brain for a strategy, beg your mighty God to help you. He’s the one with the power to part waters or poison them, weave worlds with his words, shake mountains with his breath, drop food from the sky, draw pools into the desert, bring children back from death. He’s the one that can guard your heart with peace while you wait in the dark and the unresolved places. He’s the one who restores your soul. He’s the one who holds you in your grief and binds up your broken heart. He’s the one who is crafting a home and a story for us that outweighs every hardship, loss, and suffering this world has ever held, and he has cut a pathway for us to enter into it with his own blood.

There is nothing too hard for Him. He is ready and willing to help you. Go to Him. Saddle your donkey and go. He may not give you the thing that you ask for, but He will never fail to help you, and He will never, never ignore you. When your hope is in Him, you will not be disappointed.

“God is our refuge and our strength. Always ready to help in times of trouble.”

–Psalm 46:1

You do need people. Let them love you and care for you. Learn from their counsel. But this is the lesson I take from the Shunemite woman and from Hezekiah and from Jehoshaphat: When you’re deeply troubled, seek Him first.

“Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.”

–1 Peter 5:7

“Unless the Lord builds a house,
    the work of the builders is wasted.
Unless the Lord protects a city,
    guarding it with sentries will do no good.
 It is useless for you to work so hard
    from early morning until late at night,
anxiously working for food to eat;
    for God gives rest to his loved ones.”

–Psalm 127:1-3

“Some nations boast of their chariots and horses,
    but we boast in the name of the Lord our God.“

–Psalm 20:7

“Oh, please help us against our enemies,
    for all human help is useless.
With God’s help we will do mighty things,
    for he will trample down our foes.”

–Psalm 60:11-12

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 7 Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.“

–Philippians 4:6-7

The Water Receded: who to call on when there’s nowhere to go

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–

“…I have planned this in order to display my glory.”

…so the Israelites camped there as they were told.

…As Pharaoh approached, the people of Israel looked up and panicked when they saw the Egyptians overtaking them. They cried out to the Lord, and they said to Moses, “Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness? Weren’t there enough graves in Egypt? What have you done to us?”

…But Moses told the people, “Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today will never be seen again. The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.”

…The cloud settled between the Egyptian and Israelite camps. As darkness fell, the cloud turned to fire, lighting up the night. But the Egyptians and Israelites did not approach each other all night. Then Moses raised his hand over the sea, and the Lord opened up a path through the water with a strong east wind. So the people of Israel walked through the middle of the sea on dry ground, with walls of water on each side!”

–Exodus 14, excerpts

It took me a couple weeks to find the words.

Benaiah’s brain MRI in December showed so much improvement. NONE of the doctors are recommending surgery anymore. The fluid collected around his brain and his arachnoid cysts are almost totally resolved. He has healthy brain developing forward into the spaces where fluid had accumulated. He’s babbling, crawling, standing up, meeting or even exceeding his milestones, and we’re weaning him off his medication.

Lord, I don’t know what to say.

I didn’t dare hope for this, but you have done it. Chief of Medicine, you have stepped in and treated my baby’s brain with delicate healing in your hands.

I was helpless. There was nothing I could do but ask you to have mercy on him. I cried out in terror and unbelief and you stepped in with power and compassion for my little son and his brokenness. You didn’t have to, but you were able, and you leveraged that power for our small story. In all the world and all its damage and hurt, you saw ours and you said ‘yes.’

Lord, may I never get over it. When Benaiah is getting into trouble and constantly moving and bonking his head and wrecking his bike and arguing with me over his homework and driving me nuts, I will praise you and praise you and praise you because I didn’t know if he would ever be able to. Every breath, every roll-over, every grubby smile is an announcement of your mercy to us because he might not have been able to do any of it.

It was his brain – the physical organ that houses who he is – and it was swelling and seeping and bleeding and sustaining damage and he was sleeping constantly and refusing to eat and losing weight. Lord, he was so tiny and fragile and he could have slipped away. Maybe his body would have survived it, but the control center was flooding and the doctor told us to cancel our plans and prepare ourselves because she didn’t know how much help Benaiah was going to need.

But,

“Our help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:2)

“…The Lord is my helper, I will not fear…” (Hebrews 13:6)

All the help Benaiah needed – you were able to give it. You were able to restore where doctors could only labor to install and maintain a drain. You are able to meet needs that I cannot. May I remember. It is okay when my kids need something I cannot give, though I have offered all I have. Because you have offered all you have.

“Since He did not spare even his own son, but gave him up for us all, won’t He also give us everything else?” (Romans 8:32)

I was trying so hard to prepare myself for a ‘no,’ because I know sometimes you say ‘no,’ and you’re allowed to, and I may never get to understand it.

“…His rule is everlasting and His kingdom is eternal. All the people of the earth are nothing compared to him. He does as he pleases among the angels of heaven and among the people of the earth. No one can stop him or say to him, ‘What do you mean by doing these things?’…All his acts are just and true, and he is able to humble the proud.” (Daniel 4:34-35, 37)

I fell short of Abraham. I did not freely offer you my son. I did not even come close to unwavering certainty that you would restore him to me somehow if I gave him up. I had no promise for his future, and I was stared down by the harsh fact that parents everywhere beg for their sick children and walk through the unthinkable. I almost lost sight of all the times parents in your Word begged you for their kids and you said, ‘yes.’

I had nothing to offer or bargain with or to convince you – only a bleak, pleading prayer and a body of people who held on hoping and praying and fasting and coming before you for Benaiah’s sake.

I withered in despair: “So many people have healthy babies. Did I ask for too much? How could God allow this to happen to Benaiah? He has broken my heart!”

Cody’s response was this: “He’s broken your heart? He has saved our son!”

I saw the peril. He saw the rescue. Oh God, thank you for that rescue. I am undone even now every time I consider it – what was at stake, what you have done. Only three times in his career now, Benaiah’s neurologist has seen hydrocephalus stabilize on its own. I couldn’t find a single study that supported a long-term Diamox regimen for this; in children it’s never enough to just give them medicine; it’s a stop-gap to get kids to surgery.

But you.

You reached down and cancelled it.

Twice, your people came up against the water. They held out a staff or stepped into a river, you worked, and the water receded. Now, as I stare at image after image of Benaiah’s brain scans, I see the water receding, pulling back, making a path for steps forward.

From: There’s nowhere to go! Water on one side and an army on the other. Darkness. Panic. Uneasy waiting.

From: There’s nowhere for it to go! Water building, stretching, seeping out of his ventricles, across into his brain tissue, swelling and compressing, and he’s not reabsorbing it fast enough. Darkness. Panic. Uneasy waiting.

To: Suddenly, there is a way that wasn’t there before. From nowhere to go, to receding waters. From terror to relief.

And it wasn’t just Moses, who reminded everyone that God would fight the battle and held out the staff, that got to walk through the water tunnel to safety. All the panicking, freaked out people who demanded to know why they had been brought there to die got to go through, too. Lord, I am so thankful we have accounts of you rescuing scared people. Where would I be if you only answered the bold and the unwavering?

I’m praying that through all of this, you’re building in me that sort of confidence. I think you’re in the business of growing panicky people into grounded disciples who lean in and trust you and look for your rescue even when they don’t understand, because they’ve seen your character on display over and over. But I’m learning to be patient with that process. These are the beginnings, and it’s okay to sound scared when I call for help. What matters most is that I dial the right number.

“We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead. And He did rescue us from mortal danger, and He will rescue us again. We have placed our confidence in Him, and He will continue to rescue us.”

–2 Corinthians 1:8-10

Outward Checkmarks, Inner Rest

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“You can enter God’s Kingdom only through the narrow gate. The highway to hell is broad, and its gate is wide for the many who choose that way.  But the gateway to life is very narrow and the road is difficult, and only a few ever find it.”

–Matthew 7:13-14

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Our pastor, Ethan Crowder, taught through Matthew 7 several weeks ago and it floored me. (you can listen to the sermon here.)

It wasn’t new information, but he put it in a new light. He reminded us that when Jesus mentions the “many” who choose the broad road, He wasn’t primarily referring to the many people who live horrible, sin-filled, evil lives. He was talking about the vast number of people who are working so hard to live outwardly good lives, but do not have true, inward righteousness.

Few trust in Christ. And He is the only way to be inwardly clean.

Few understand that God is not interested in all the outward effort and appearances and trying to keep up and trying to be good enough. He wants fruit that flows from the inner life, from a heart that knows only Jesus was ever good enough. He’s looking for people who walk the difficult, narrow road of placing all their trust in Him, step after step after step.

“The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

–1 Samuel 16:7

I already know that my best attempts at a good life are not enough. I know I need the cross. I grasp that without Christ, there’s a chasm between God and I that I could never reach across. What I find myself wrestling to grasp is that the cross not only bridged the chasm, it moved me to the other side of it. Out of death and striving and failure; into life, wholeness, and favor. I know it, but I forget it. And I get stressed all over again when I don’t think I’m doing a good enough job.

In his message, Ethan said, “It’s easy to look the part…but genuine righteousness is always inward before its outward. It’s always a matter of your heart before it’s a matter of your life…If we check all the boxes with how we live but fail to have a heart that’s changed by the Gospel, then we’ve missed the point…God doesn’t want you to be Jesus. He wants you to TRUST Jesus.”

This wrecked me because, for a year, I have been trying so hard to keep up with what is expected outwardly while I’m grieving, churning, wrestling, and fearful on the inside. But I could have dropped all the outward things, the pressure to be enough and to be good for other people. Jesus is enough. I don’t have to be Him. I can just be the person who’s clinging to Him. What God wanted was inward. He had to do some work on the inward. And I couldn’t speed it up.

My trust and confidence were mangled and not functioning and I wanted to think rightly about God and have all the outward flow from being in a good place inwardly but I didn’t know how to get there any sooner. I wanted so badly to do well and to make good choices even if it took a while for the emotions to catch up, but the emotions also had to be processed. I think what stood out to me in this sermon was the relief of pressure: there is no pressure for me to be good enough. I cannot be. But Christ is – and He produces good in me as I keep coming to Him.

One of the most surprising things I felt this year was the urge to avoid church and fellowship and the attention. I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to get away from the very people who care so much for me and my family, but I think I understand now that it was the pressure. I perceived expectations that I couldn’t meet. To be their missionary and their small group leader and their helpful church volunteer and their mentor and their enthusiastic Vacation Bible School teacher when I was also a traumatized post-partum mom recovering from eight months of hyperemesis gravidarum, three hospitalizations, heart complications, moving suddenly across the Atlantic with only 5 suitcases worth of belongings, and facing the scariest days of her life as she waded through a flood of scans, appointments, and treatment recommendations for her tiny baby’s swollen brain.

I tried so stinking hard to have something to offer, but I think I could have just let it all fall. I could have just been exactly where I was, processing what I was dealing with, and if it was messy, I think they would have just loved me. Just like the Lord does.

And Oh, I need that love.

While I’m still trying to be enough, I will feel strain, distance and disappointment that don’t apply to me. I am on the other side of the chasm because of the cross. I have been showered with affection, approval, warmth and welcome because of the work Jesus finished. And it is not meeting the outward checkmarks that will finally ease that heavy pressure. It is resting in this unearned love – love that has been lavished upon and given whole-heartedly to me. Only out of that can I walk forward and have something to offer others. Something that is sincere and full of life, not forced and wrung out of a tired, collapsing shell.

Oh Lord,

May I find my rest in this love. May I learn to wait on you and let you produce the fruit. Help me to clear away the outward pressure and performance and let life make its way out – however small and humble its baby shoots are. Work the fruit of patience in my life, especially as I gauge what needs you are asking me to step into and what needs I should yield to your mighty hands, which can hold them all. Teach me to wait on the careful, inward work you are doing to produce true righteousness in my heart, especially when I’m tempted to rush it because I don’t see satisfying results yet.

Curb my perfectionism by killing my pride. Help me to drop those high, high expectations of myself and instead set all my expectation on you. Show me how to be at ease with learning, with interruption, with unfinished, with messy, with life as an imperfect disciple and a growing parent.

Remind my heart that it doesn’t please you to buckle down and strive with all my might outwardly while my heart is despairing. You are near the broken-hearted and you bind up their wounds (Psalm 34:18, 147:3). You lead gently those that have young (Isaiah 40:11). Good Shepherd, perhaps part of the difficult, narrow road is the difficult work of trusting you when I need to rest and recover, because I believe you when you say you are gentle.

“Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him...”

–Colossians 2:7

“I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.”

–Ephesians 3:16-19

Walk Forward: sleep-deprived confessions and delighting in Jesus

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“No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on…”

–Philippians 3:13-14

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I have always loved sleep. My husband’s relationship with sleep is difficult. He is a light sleeper and often struggles to fall asleep at night. But not me. Sleep and I have a good relationship. I sleep deeply – often within a minute or two of my head hitting the pillow. Sleep is my superpower…unless I have a new baby. 

I have found very few things as stressful as the sleep deprival I went through after the birth of both our boys. There are few things I have begged for with more passion than that the Lord would help my baby to sleep. I have been super invested in sleep training, in sleep diapers, in rice cereal, in nap schedules. And when I have done everything in my power and the baby wakes up anyway because he has an ear infection or he’s teething or he has some other mystery reason I’ll never get to the bottom of, it. is. maddening.

This month, I felt the Lord gently prodding me to dig into why I was SO determined to get the good night’s sleep that seemed ever out of reach. Beneath the determination, there was fear. And so the real question surfaced: Why does being really tired scare me so badly?

Well…it’s because I hate failure. I am wired to plan, to prepare, and to arrange my life with intention. It soothes me to have anticipated a need and adjusted for it ahead of time; to have a contingency plan mapped out and everybody on the same page for what’s next. Good sleep, I realized, is one of the ways I set myself up to avoid failure. When I’m rested, I can take a lot in stride. When I’m exhausted, my anger is so much harder to control. I get irritable, forgetful, and emotional. My threshold for overwhelm drops significantly, and I tend to react, especially in my closest relationships. Poor sleep is a great humbler; it exposes my need for mercy. 

So good sleep had become, to me, the holy grail that would make it possible to get through my day without damaging my relationships, without failure, without regret. For as hard as I tried, as much as I begged the Lord to help me walk with the Spirit, I had not found a way to just nail it after a night of poor sleep. A screw-up was inevitable. And so I grew more desperate. If only the baby would sleep! 

But any time I hear myself say the words “If only…,” I know discontentment is at work in my heart. And whatever I’m wishing I had isn’t actually the solution.

“…be satisfied with what you have. For God has said,

“I will never fail you.
    I will never abandon you.”

So we can say with confidence,

“The Lord is my helper,
    so I will have no fear.
    What can mere people do to me?”


–Hebrews 13:5-6

Be satisfied with what I have. Right now. Even with the amount of sleep I’ve been given. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough. So instead of trying SO hard to get sleep so that I won’t fail and lose my temper when I’m tired and irritable, I started praying that I would grow in how I recover from failure. 

My main goal cannot be to perfectly set myself up so that I never make a mistake. That is just not real life. But maturity gets good at moving forward from mistakes; that is a good goal. As I prayed for this growth with one of my friends, she prayed for me, and she thanked God for his mercy when we fail. 

It occurred to me that we recover well by shifting our focus from our failure to His great mercy. From our badness to His goodness. From our disappointment to excitement about the total covering we’ve been given in His perfect forgiveness. The blood of Christ is a completed shelter, and it has no leaks. 

“…But as it is, He has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

…For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.

…Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.”

–Hebrews 9:26, 10:14, 22

We can confess our sin and at the same time lead our kids and our own hearts to delight in Him because He has made us free. And this, more than a mom who never shows frustration, may be just what their little hearts need, because I’m not the only one who needs to learn how to recover after losing my temper.

Lord, 

I am so thankful that you forgive me each and every time that I fail. Thank you for setting your love on me and for giving your life to pay completely for my sin. Teach me the art of acknowledging my disobedience while I rejoice in your perfect obedience. Let the weight of my focus not be these brief and passing faceplants on my part, but your goodness, your mercy for me, your unfailing love and preference for me, the perfection of your plan that anchors me securely to the end of the race, to your lasting victory, to your once-for-all sacrifice, to the day when I have overcome it all and I am completely like you. 

May my sin ever point me to my Savior so that I do not wither in discouragement, but I overflow with

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Jesus!

You did what I could not. You died in my place. You’ve anchored me to your new life. You’ve already forgiven me completely. Beautiful, understanding Savior. Thank you for looking on me with love and giving me your strength and your mercy to walk forward.”