Category Archives: Devotional Thoughts

“Are we in a hurry??”

Dutch’s hackles are up anytime he sniffs out a hurry. I smile. Our Sunday morning routine is always the same. My answer is always the same.

“Nope. As long as you promptly obey me, there’s no rush.”

I kiss the top of his head and send him off to get ready. Funny boy. 

It’s a lesson I’ve reinforced more times than I can count: As long as you obey, there’s no rush. It’s the dawdling and disobedience that cause delays, that leave everyone scrambling to get out the door on time. He hates being hurried, I hate being late, so I’ve learned to give clear directions and adequate time, but also to insist that obedience is prompt.

Prompt obedience … was there ever a more important lesson to learn and more difficult to teach?

This simple principle has been a comfort to me recently, in far more significant ways. I’m reading Genesis again, and am always picking up tidbits of wisdom from Noah’s remarkable Ark adventure. This time around, I scribbled into the margin:

“As long as he obeyed, there was no hurry.”

See, God is SO GOOD at time management. 🙂 He was the only One who knew the exact day and time that the flood would come. Noah didn’t know. But God knew, and He allowed exactly the right allotment of time for Noah to build the ark, and gather the animals. Though the ark-building process was long, Noah stayed on track, diligent and obedient. As far as we know, he didn’t have to rush, stress, hurry, or frantically finish. As the time drew near, God told Noah that he had 7 days to gather the animals. Not a rush, but Noah would certainly need to stick to task in order to be ready on time.

No time for dawdling and disobedience. 

Sometimes I get these ideas, thoughts, dreams, of things God might do. It seems like a near-infinite number of tasks to complete, things we need to do, ways we need to prepare. We’ve wrestled through decisions on how to allocate time and financial resources, because a lot depends on a future we do not know.

But God knows. And recently, I was praying through all these things, and sensed this truth again:

As long as you obey, there is no hurry.

Quite frankly, it is impossible to prepare for a future you do not know. I don’t know what our country will be like, what the economy will be like, what my children’s educational needs will be, who all our property will need to house.  We do not know the future, so it’s futile to rely on our own limited knowledge in order to prepare.

But as long as we obey, there is no hurry. 

Perhaps the most critically important skill to learn, as a follower of Jesus, is prompt and unquestioning obedience.

Right??

Now, I still have far to go in teaching–and practicing–this, of course. But I was reminded the other day of a game I used to play when the kids were toddlers. During the day, I would practice giving them a command, out of the blue.

“Dutch, go touch the front door! Heidi bring me that blue block!”

Yes, they were arbitrary commands, but it was an opportunity for them to learn prompt obedience, and for me to praise their efforts, in an environment that wasn’t rushed, stressed, or public. And when they didn’t obey (which was plenty), we had ample time to practice. I had forgotten all about those little games, but the other day, a friend sent me a note:

I’m reading a book called Endurance: A Year in Space, A Lifetime of Discovery by astronaut Scott Kelly. It reminded me of you talking/writing about helping Dutch & Heidi learn obedience by having them go and touch the front door when you asked. This astronaut wrote, “It occurs to me now that following directions that seemed arbitrary was good early training for being an astronaut.” Besides faithful servants of the Lord, perhaps you have some astronauts in the making. 🙂

My kids and I are far from perfect in this area, of course, but what’s struck me recently is that there is comfort in obedience.

As long as I obey, there’s no rush. My Father has me on His Timeline. If I’m listening, He’ll tell me what to do and when. I don’t have to fear that I’ve missed it somehow. I don’t have to fear being unprepared for His call. As long as I have a heart inclined to obedience, I can rest. I can find comfort in that.

Anyone else need that reassurance???

Friend, take comfort in obedience. If you lean in close, kick sin to the curb and listen carefully to His Word, HE WILL LEAD YOU. He will light the way, make your path straight, and give you the step-by-step instructions that you need. There’s no rush. He’s a Good Father. You don’t have to have the future figured out, just promptly obey His voice today.

{Thanks for reading.}

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I stood at the window, considering.

The kitchen, behind me, was still a mess from the night before. The rain poured against the glass. I was so cold. My soft, cozy chair and quilt called for me, offering their comfort. I considered the evidence, Yeah, maybe I’ll just skip my walk. Stay in. Get the kitchen clean. Stay warm. 

But the day ahead promised to be demanding, and deep down I knew, I need that walk.

“Ok, kids, I’m headed out. Do your chores and be kind to each other.”

I put on an extra sweatshirt, zipped up my raincoat, pulled up the hood.

It was pouring hard, but the fresh air filled my lungs and shocked me awake. Instantly refreshed, I strode out up in the hill, quickly warming up, breathing deep, whispering my prayers to God, letting every ache and need and concern and fear and petition pour out freely, confident of His listening ear.

It felt so good to walk uphill, in the rain.

And with each step I listened, and the word came and it made sense why this walk was so important:

Don’t just take the path of least resistance. 

*sigh*

So good. So true. These words spoken to me by the One who knows that that is exactly what I am prone to do. So prone to back off at the slightest opposition. So prone to deviate when I see an obstacle. So prone to lose heart when things don’t go as planned.

It was good to walk in the rain. It was good to know that rain didn’t have to ruin my walk. It was good to know that, in the days and weeks ahead, challenges and obstacles and delays don’t have to discourage or derail me from plodding ahead into the good plans of God.

It’s so small, I know. A walk. But how often do I take the easy route, the wide way, the short-cut, the path of least resistance, instead of pressing on in the good way, the narrow road … that leads to LIFE.

“Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.  For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” (Matt. 7:13-14)

{Friends, every day we have the choice to enter by the wide or narrow gate. Every day we can choose the path of least resistance, or we can go the good way, trusting Him to make our paths straight (Prov. 3:5-6). Praying you have a rich thanksgiving week walking the narrow way and enjoying His love, His LIFE, along the way. Thanks for reading.}

Recently, as I drove home from a speaking event, I was worshiping in the car, singing at the top of my lungs, and so clearly in my mind’s eye I saw a picture:

It was of Jeff and me. We were standing side-by-side, holding hands, looking ahead, faces resolved. We were covered in soot, ash. Our hair was singed. And I heard:

You made it through the fire.

Tears welled up. A release of relief, emotions washed over me.

This year has felt like a fire in so many ways. In ways I’ve shared, in ways I haven’t, it has felt like a fire.

And although I know more challenges will inevitably come, there is a peace and joy and relief in sensing that at least this particular season has come to a close.

Later that weekend, Jeff and I sat on the couch, reflecting on this year. I told him how I kept returning to Psalm 119, the psalmist words echoed my own:

“Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep your word.

You are good and do good; teach me your statutes…

It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes. “

It is good for me.

I thought of the other psalm I always cling to, hold to, trust:

The Lord God is a sun and shield, the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly. (Ps. 84:11)

No good thing does He withhold … even trials. 

And no, I’m not saying miscarriage is good. Not saying death is good. It isn’t. God’s good plan is always LIFE. We never have to wonder what His will is in this, it’s crystal clear in His Word.

But in this warped and fallen world, where tragedies happen and sorrow’s a steady companion, God will WORK FOR OUR GOOD, every bad thing.

He lets the devil do his worst, then flips it all upside down and uses it ALL FOR GOOD. 

Our God can win with any hand.

And I can see this so clearly this year. There were things God had to allow in my life, in order to uproot, to prune, to break. Sometimes we have to be broken — really broken — in order for him to break in to those deep places and bring healing, wholeness, freedom.

Broken hearts bring breakthrough.

See, Psalm 119 highlights an important truth we don’t talk about that much: discipline.

Sadly, we tend to think of discipline only as a sort of spiritual spanking. We go through something hard and we’re like, “What did I do WRONG? Why are you punishing me?”

But discipline isn’t necessarily punishment. Discipline is training. Discipline is proactive, intentional shaping of character, sometimes through difficulty and trial, for the purpose of Christlikeness.

And, it’s important to note: discipline is done for children out of love because the parent cares enough to put in the effort to train them. Permissive parenting isn’t love, it’s a lack of love. Ignoring our kids’ misbehavior isn’t estimable, it’s deplorable. They deserve discipline because they deserve the very best we can give them. They deserve our loving, calm, gracious, and consistent discipline so they can thrive as self-controlled, kind, generous, hard-working adults. (Lord, help us!)

God loves us so much He’ll go to great lengths to make us more like Jesus. He says this in His Word.

But notice what parts are present tense and which are past:

It is good that I was afflicted.

The Psalmist is writing this after the fact. At the time it didn’t seem good. But now it’s good. Now that the broken bone has been set and healed stronger than ever. Now that the season has changed and those pruned limbs have born beautiful fruit. Now that I can see in the rearview mirror His faithfulness through it all.

So what do we do in the middle of it all?

Worship. Wait. Wonder. Wrestle. To name just a few.

We wrestle with the questions and the sea of emotions. We wonder why on earth God would let this happen. We wait on Him, trusting that somehow He will take us through. And we worship Him in the midst, knowing that He is good, right, and perfect.

You are good and do good.

{Praying you know His love for you this week, with whatever you’re going through. He can win with any hand. Tuck yourself into His love and KNOW that He will work all things for good. You are so loved. Thank you for reading.}

I stepped outside for my morning walk and could feel the date … it was now November. Overnight we went from crisp and cool and sunshiny–kids wearing t-shirts jumping in leaf-piles–to damp cold, grey skies–kids inside curled up under quilts.

I pulled my bare hands into my sleeves to keep out the cold.

Moments earlier, as I’d sat under a quilt and soaked up the Scriptures. I’d flipped through my journal, reflecting, remembering…

Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh. Is anything to hard for Me? 

I had hesitated. I had read the Words of God, spoken through Jeremiah. The words has stopped me.

Was anything too hard for Him?

I knew the right answer, but also knew that the only way to know what I really know is to see how I act. 

That is, my actions are the only real indicator of what I actually believe.

I knew which actions spoke loudest — the ones no one sees: My prayers.

As I sat and searched my heart, I realized that there were things that God had called me to pray for, to believe Him for, to press in and intercede for … and I had started strong, then petered out. 

Funny that we call a gradual diminishing, a dwindling to nothing — to “peter out.”  I know it has nothing to do with poor Peter the Apostle, but it is an apt description. The disciple who started strong then later “followed at a distance” and eventually outright denied Christ.

A little drifting, a dwindling faith-flame: Peter petered out. 

The question rang in my mind:

What things are you tempted to believe are too hard for Me?

Immediately 3 things came to mind. Those three things God had clearly called me to pray for, to give all my heart and concerted effort to intercede for.

But my prayers had petered out.

The things seemed too hard. Too many obstacles. Too much lost time. Too many factors. I already felt ashamed, I felt foolish, felt stupid for having believed in the beginning. Naive Kari always believing the best and looking like an idiot. All that’s happened this year is disappointment after disappointment. It feels like every battle’s been lost.

Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh. Is anything too hard for me?

I shut my eyes tight. Wiped away the tears that had welled up.

NO. NO. There is NOTHING too hard for my God. 

But … I hesitated again. How do I KNOW if these things are Your will? What if I’m wasting my time praying for things that aren’t Your will?

So clearly I hear:

What does MY WORD say?

Of course. His Word is so clear. These things are clearly His will. They line straight up, through and through, with the heart and will of God as revealed throughout His Word.

He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

I opened my eyes and looked out the window as fresh resolve arose.  All I could think was how glad I was that it was now November. October had been so busy. No time to reflect. But November stretched ahead, wide-open spaces of blank calendar pages and potential.

No-shame November. 

What? The phrase popped in my mind, I’m not sure why, but it rang true. Back in college all the guys had declared No-shave November and had fun sporting scruffy beards.

Why no shame?

I’ll tell you why. Because THAT is the emotion that the enemy wants us to feel when we encounter trials of various kinds.

You’re stupid for believing, you’re foolish for having faith, can’t you see your prayers are useless, can’t you see that all your efforts are in vain?

FOOL.

IDIOT.

And so we eventually internalize these lies and the shame hangs heavy upon our shoulders …

… and the prayers peter out.

Outside in the cold, damp air, all alone in our wilderness with no one to hear but God, I cried this out — LOUD — to Him. And heard His Word answer back:

Those who wait for Me shall not be put to shame. (Is. 49:23)

No-shame November.

The time to believe God is now. The time to take God at His Word is now. The time to sell the farm and go for broke and throw ourselves at the mercy of our great God and pour out all we have in reckless abandon, for His sake and His glory and the good work that He is doing on this earth, in our lives … in theirs.

Wait for the LORD and keep His way, and he will exalt you to inherit the land. (Ps. 37:34)

{Don’t give up. Thanks for reading.}

This week God used grass seed to get my attention. 

See, one of the genius things about Jesus was His ability to teach profound spiritual truth through ordinary examples. Mustard seeds, fig trees, fields, sparrows, weeds, soil … all of these agricultural things (and so much more) were used to illustrate the deeper spiritual realities at work in our world.

He still does this today.

We’ve lived here at the Ark for 18 months now, and we’re still waiting and dreaming and praying about how God wants to use this piece of land. It’s His, and we want to steward it well. A few weeks ago, a friend came over with his tractor and cleared a lower area that was overgrown with brambles. With the weeds out of the way, we were able to see the contour of the land and get a bit more vision for what it could be, and with the help of my Dad’s expertise, were able to envision a wide-open, 1/4 acre or so, smooth field, with the help of some professional excavation.

He finished excavating Tuesday afternoon, and we figured we’d just wait it out through the winter, then plant grass-seed come spring.

But Wednesday afternoon, a wise suggestion came our way that it would probably be better to seed it now, helping offset any erosion during the winter. But, it would need to be done in the next day or two, to allow 60 days before the first frost. I felt a little panic and indecision — Jeff was busy with work. We would all be gone that weekend, so it meant I sprint and do it that day, or wait until spring. I prayed, asking God for wisdom, waiting, and sensed God nudging, plant now. So, Heidi and I hopped in the car, ran to the feed store for fertilizer, a generous friend brought us seed, and at 4:30pm that day, though I only had an hour free before heading in for Bible study, I started seeding the field.

I soon grew overwhelmed at the task. Raking, fertilizing, and seeding a quarter-acre field by hand was no small task. I came in covered in mud and exhausted, but I figured that, since Jeff was home that night, he and the kids could finish up the job.

Therein was my fatal flaw.

Even though God had given me the green light to seed the field, I mentally made my expectation that Jeff would do the work as well. In fact, I expected he would do most of the work. When he arrived home and let me know he had other (legitimate) plans, I silently made my disappointment known.

The next day, the pity party slowly began to take shape. Silently I seethed. Since NO ONE had done ANY WORK the night before, I was left to DO IT ALL BY MYSELF during my only free hours that morning. The miserable 40-degree rains poured down as I pulled on rain gear, boots and gloves. The rain had turned the whole field to ankle-deep mud, and as I tried to navigate the wheelbarrow down the steep hill, I fell hard. My entire backside was covered in mud and frustrated tears filled my eyes, as if me falling was my family’s fault because they weren’t helping me. Then, I pulled the car up near the field (all the seed was in the back of the car to stay dry), and heard a thump. What now?? Someone had left a hand-rototiller lying on the gravel and the long, sharp metal spikes were now sticking out of my brand-new, $300 front tire.

NO!!!!!!!!

I was so mad. I called Jeff and frustrated words flew from my mouth. He calmly, lovingly, and graciously drove home and took the car to have the tire fixed, and the kids quietly came out, dressed in Carhartts and boots, ready to help me as well. We three set to work, and in several hours, seeded the field. The kids’ attitudes were awesome: cheerful and helpful.

They were a quiet, Christlike example to me.

Later, Jeff handed me the three spikes that Les Schwab had removed from my tire. They had fixed it for FREE, of course, and the three spikes reminded me of a certain three spikes, driven into the feet and hands of my Savior, so that I might be FREE.

Grace.

Amazing Grace.

Then, two hours after planting the grass seed, a tornado hit.

I’m not even kidding. In my entire life I have never seen such a thing. Jeff called and said to stay inside, and sure enough — it hit. House-shaking thunder, bright lightning flashing, and rain that looked like a fire-hose against our windows. We stood at the windows and watched as all our work washed off the field.

I curled up with a quilt and talked to my Father about all this.

“But I thought I was obeying you, God. You said the plant the seed.”

“Yes, Daughter, but just because you do the right thing doesn’t mean you can do it in the wrong way.”

Ah. Yes. There is a wrong way to do right.

I remembered back to a recent situation where I got in an argument with another believer, about a certain issue, on Facebook. I was floored to realize how the situation exactly paralleled the grass-seed debacle. I was so frustrated with this person because—in my limited perspective—they weren’t helping with the work of planting the seed, figuratively speaking. But my attitude was wrong. It wasn’t loving, wasn’t gracious, wasn’t kind. I had prayed about the issue, and felt clearly that this was “right” but His words echoed back in my heart …

“Yes, Daughter, but just because you do the right thing doesn’t mean you can do it in the wrong way.”

There is a wrong way to do right.

And so, once again, I stand humbled. It seems to happen a lot these days. But I’m grateful. God has been so good to me, to stick spikes in my tire to remind of His grace. It’s His kindness that leads to repentance. God disciplines His legitimate children because He loves them, and that includes me. Praise be to God! So, good friend, however He might be chastening you today, don’t despise it — it’s kindness. Don’t be like me and wallow in self-pity, throw yourself in the depths of His grace, and ask Him for the grace to go His way. To not only do right, but to do right the right way.

His way.

{Here’s to a great week … thanks for reading.}

PS Speaking of grace, after all the grass seed washed away, we watched an amazing documentary called Back to Eden, and God gave us a whole new direction for our plot of land. He is so good! He turns our mishaps into miracles. Redemption!

You just never know what the week ahead will hold. A week ago I wrote that He holds a map we cannot see. I didn’t know, then, just how much of that map was still very much unknown to us. The very next day we heard the tragic news that Jeff’s dear dad had suddenly and tragically died.

We were shocked, of course, and this past week was a whirlwind, as you can imagine. Please keep my dear husband in your prayers as he attends to details of all kinds. He is a rock, he’s my hero, and I know his strength comes from Christ.

In just over 14 months, we have lost my last grandparent, then Jeff’s last grandparent, then my dear uncle Tom, two unborn babies, my sweet friend’s son, and now, Jeff’s dad. I shared last week about the emotional side of things, but this week, what has struck me more than anything else is this simple truth:

Time is short. Let nothing detain you.

After church today I visited my parents, and I sat and read aloud the scriptures to my mom. She can’t turn the pages, and it’s hard for her to hold a Bible, so reading it aloud is our best bet. I asked where she wanted to read, and she suggested Luke. Not knowing what the chapter held, I felt impressed to turn to Luke 9. Interestingly enough, it was all about Jesus giving the disciples authority over demons and disease–and sending them out to preach the gospel and to heal.

Duly noted.

As we finished the chapter, I was once again struck by Jesus’ call for several folks to follow Him. He gets an array of responses that seem reasonable:

“Lord, let me first go and bury my father.”

“I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.”

The version of Jesus that’s touted in our culture–the super cushy, soft, ever-tolerant Jesus–would have have nodded his head gently and said,

“Of course, dear one, take your time. I know it’s hard to say goodbye. I’ll always be here whenever you’re ready.”

But that is not what Jesus says. At all.

Jesus makes his message clear:

“No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Ouch. See, as I read this chapter, I read the start and I close my eyes and say, “Yes, God! I am your disciple. I follow you. Can you give me that power and authority over demons and disease, so that I can help people?”

And then I finish the chapter and have to ask:

Am I His disciple?

Do I follow Him? 

It’s worth mentioning that the “excuses” that those folks had given, were totally legit. They weren’t sinful. At all. And Jesus probably mentions these so that it’s crystal clear that it is’t just sinful things keep us from His call.

Good things. Distractions. Diversions. 

So. Many. Things. 

Saturday night, I was headed up to speak at an event in Vancouver. On my way, I had just enough time to make a stop, at a place I’m never near, especially without kids, and I really really (really) wanted to swing in and check out a certain item. (Ok, it was IKEA, I confess!) I took the exit, headed toward the blue and yellow, pulled into the parking lot … and sat there. My heart started doing that thing where it goes flip flop, and I felt no peace. I knew that technically I had time to run in real quick, check out my items, and be at the event on time.

But it was a gamble. I’d be rushed. I might not have quite as much time to pray beforehand. But I wanted to do it! Just then the worship song that was playing rang out these words, “I want to know you more, more than anything.” 

So I prayed, out loud, “Father, you know I really want to go in there, but I also want to know you more … more than anything. So lead me in whatever way will let me know you more.”

I turned back on the car, backed out of the space, and left.

Happy. Free. 

The event was wonderful. I drove home with a happy heart, knowing it was a teeny tiny picture of something so much bigger.

So many things threaten to detain us. Friends, I get it. There are SO MANY other things I feel like doing, more than giving, more than Scripture-study, more than prayer, more than caring and serving and loving and putting others first. There are so many other things that seem more attractive than the call to come and die, but Jesus makes the way clear and calls us on, 

“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

Friends, let nothing detain you. We don’t know what this day, this week, this month, this year will hold.

Today is the day to follow Jesus fully. Don’t look back. 

{There, with you. Have a great week. Thanks for reading.}

“Why don’t You ANSWER????”

The question erupted, into the silence of my car, where I drove, alone, desperately trying to find the building where the memorial service was about to begin. My precious friend had just buried her son, and I wanted to be there for her, with her, and instead I was lost and pounding my steering wheel asking God to please just answer, just this once, PLEASE. 

See, in an attempt to save money, we’d switched cell phone companies, only to discover that my phone didn’t switch over, so I was left without data service. I could make phone calls (remember when that’s all phones did?), but no navigation, texting, etc.

You don’t realize how much you rely on data until you don’t have it. What was the norm for me five years ago is now intolerable. I had printed out directions before I left home, but I’d plugged in the wrong address and was now left, alone and clueless, swerving down side-streets and praying that God would please show me where to go. At one point I pulled up beside a woman walking her dog, only to discover that my passenger’s side window would not roll down. So instead of directions I got a blank stare from a woman wondering why on earth I was wildly gesticulating while driving but not rolling my window down.  Gah! FOR THE LOVE! 

I finally made it to the memorial, and thought I was ok. My amazing friend was steadfast, immovable, anchored in hope and preaching the gospel powerfully. It was an amazing ceremony trumpeting the goodness of God no matter what.

But while my friend was stable, steadfast, strong, even as she lost her own dear child, I was an absolute wreck. As soon as the closing song ended, I darted out to my car, head down, afraid to look up lest I saw someone I knew. Jeff walked quietly beside, as he’d driven separately and didn’t know what was up. As soon as we got in the car, I came unglued.

“What kind of God DOES THIS to His people??” There. I’d said it. We had prayed, fasted, sought the Lord for five years straight, and then …

“Why this cruelty? Why doesn’t He ANSWER????”

I sobbed, shaking, reeling, my fist pounding on the steering wheel, my head swimming with pain, tears streaming down my face, onto my shirt. Jeff listened. I’ve never experienced anything like this in my life. Neat-and-tidy sadness gone, instead: wild sorrow unleashed, feeling like my entire being would break in two.

I was driving straight from there to a speaking event, so I dried my tears, reapplied mascara, and headed south, wondering how on earth to speak about hope when I felt none. Of course, God provided, and we gazed at God’s Word together.

But I still left disoriented, and as I drove off into the darkness, I realized I had forgotten to print off driving directions to get home. It’d be a nearly 2-hour drive, all back roads, and although I’d gone that route many times before, there were a few turns I couldn’t quite remember. I thought it would all be familiar once I got there and I’d be able to figure it out.

I thought wrong.

One wrong turn turned into ten and before I knew it I was turned around, headed straight south instead of north. I prayed again over my phone, willing it to work, but it wouldn’t. So I called Jeff, and in utter exhaustion, asked him to please help, as I squinted to see road signs to make sense of where I was.

He was calm, of course, and gentle. He began to direct my path but I turned too soon and found myself headed into oncoming traffic, going the wrong way on a one-way. Another few turns and Jeff was able to tell me what to do, but I quickly protested.

“No, this isn’t the way I usually go. This isn’t familiar. I just want you to get me to the road I’m used to.”

He listened patiently, but he refused to let my panic persuade him. Calmly and clearly, he corrected me:

“No, this route isn’t going to be familiar to you, but it is to me. I will get you through.” 

I heard him, and heard Him.

So clearly, the Father’s heart came through Jeff’s voice.

“This route isn’t going to be familiar to you, but it is to Me. I will get you through.” 

I protest this path. Wildly.

I am lost. It is dark. I’ve taken wrong turns and wound up going the wrong direction. I cry out like a child, stamping my foot and pounding my fist on the dash:

God, I just want You to get me to the road I’m used to.

I don’t like this dark, unfamiliar road.

But the TRUTH is, it’s not unfamiliar to Him.

He holds a map I cannot see. 

His ways are not my ways. His view is higher than mine.

And I can kick and scream and demand my way. I can insist that I navigate, that I call the shots …

…that I be God.

Or I can humble myself and acknowledge the truth, the way things really are, which is that God is good all the time and He works all things for our good. He doesn’t will all the crazy evil sorrow that we face, but He works it, and He will navigate us Home, safely.

We can trust Him.

In case you’re there too, in some way or another, and you are driving blindly in the dark, darting to and fro, wondering which way to go, tears blurring your vision because you cannot see straight. I pray you have the presence of mind to LISTEN to His voice when he says,

“This route isn’t going to be familiar to you, but it is to Me. I will get you through.” 

Truth for us this week. Thanks for reading. 

Sometimes you don’t even have to see the evening news to have a broken heart. Sometimes your inner circle surrounds you with plenty.

The text came late last week that a friend’s hopes had been disappointed. Again. I knew the feeling, the quiet ache you can’t tell most people about. No doubt she’ll be erasing from her mind what she thought would have been happening now, next month, next year.

I saw another dear friend’s post recently. Her boy was born at the same time as Heidi, but her dear son has Down’s Syndrome, is non-verbal, so she is still dealing with diapers, and the myriad challenges that come with that, more than I can imagine. She is amazing and a true example of embracing challenges with a joyful spirit, I sometimes wonder if she occasionally sees Heidi and aches with what would have been, what her son would be like if …

I was a little caught off guard yesterday, thinking my tiny dose of grief was well over now. There were actually 5 of us friends who all got pregnant at the same time, due within 2 weeks of each other (!). Two of us lost our babies. Three are going strong (hallelujah!). It’d been awhile since I’d seen my two dear friends, and yesterday as we embraced, my eyes went instinctively to their beautiful growing bellies and my breath caught, just for a moment. I’d lost track of time, so I asked how far along now? “Fifteen weeks…” I blinked hard, smiling truly so happy for them, but unable to stop my mind from going, “I would have been fifteen weeks…” 

Then yesterday afternoon. I want to honor her privacy, but the most horrendously heart-breaking thing a mom could ever go through, happened to my dear precious friend. Five long years of agonizing prayer and intercession, ending in a sorrow that I cannot even comprehend. Her situation is so far above and beyond anything I have experienced or can imagine. Only the power of God can (and will!) carry her through the days and years ahead. I can only imagine as the years go by she will occasionally ache with seeing what would have been, if only…

It’s not just these scenarios. So many others, maybe yours too.

It is only natural for our minds to turn wistfully to What would have been…. But as women of God, we get to go somewhere else with our thoughts, and fix our gaze on the Truth:

What WILL be. 

The truth is, Every lost unborn baby will be held, in heaven.

The truth is, Every handicapped child will walk and talk and run free and be fully healed someday in the presence of God.

The truth is, Every precious life cut tragically short now continues in the presence of God and we will be reunited with them, for all eternity, for all who love and know Jesus Christ. 

What would have been is a fatally flawed perspective because nothing is guaranteed. It’s idealistic wishful thinking because it only compares the present with a made-up reality in our minds.

But What WILL be is guaranteed. Fixed. Nothing can change it, harm it, steal it, destroy it. It is

…an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be reveled in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith — more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire — may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen Him, you love Him. Though you do not now see Him, you believe in Him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. —1 Peter 1:4-9

This doesn’t erase the pain of the present. It’s not pretending this world doesn’t knock the wind out of you some days. Nobody understood sorrow more than Jesus, and He sugarcoats exactly nothing:

“In this world you will have sorrow, but take heart! I have overcome the world.” —John 16:33

I don’t know your situation, and I certainly do not meant to minimize pain. But Jesus offers hope to every situation, and helps us trade what would have been for the truth of what WILL be. 

Thank you for reading.