Indholdsfortegnelse for July/August 2024 i Mornings with Jesus

My mother is a minimalist. When I was growing up, she never bothered buying a colander; she'd drain pasta, or whatever else she was cooking, by cracking the lid just slightly to keep the food from escaping while she poured the water into the sink. As an adult, I own two colanders and a pot with drainage holes in the lid—any one of which would have saved me from many pasta mishaps over the years—and I still drain pasta exactly the way I learned to do it from Mom. The lessons we learn from family are powerful. They can form habits that last a lifetime, and sometimes they become the memories that guide us long into adulthood. I was grateful to have a reminder of that in a story one…

WHO WOULD HAVE IMAGINED THAT a simple spelling mistake could become a spiritual aha moment? It happened upon discovering that I'd written “reset” where I'd intended to write “rest.” As I paused to consider the connectedness between these two words, I thought about how incredibly busy my life feels at times. Perhaps you can relate. Family and household responsibilities combined with work and church-related activities leave me tired. Add personal concerns, worries about loved ones, and fear about the future, and I feel bone-weary. Jesus promises rest for my soul when I spend time in His presence. Reading the Word and conversing with Him in prayer give me clarity to see where I've picked up burdens He never meant for me to carry. Jesus helps me understand where I've tried…

MY FRIEND ANGELA AND HER husband have lovingly restored a historic waterfront home in Virginia. Angela graciously offered the house to me and four other friends for a weekend stay. We jumped at the chance for a girls' getaway. The couple greeted us after we arrived, showed us around the beautiful house, and then left. We had a great time relaxing, laughing, taking walks along the water, and exploring area restaurants. We also enjoyed some impromptu late-night chats around the large dining room table. It was a joyful time of restoration. Right before we departed, we five sister-friends gathered in a circle in the foyer to thank God for a wonderful weekend. As we held hands and bowed our heads, the back door slowly creaked open. I opened my eyes…

A YOUNG MOM STOOD A few feet from me. The toddler in her arms sported long, dark curls. The little one's shoulders shuddered as if she had just experienced a hard crying spell. Watching that tiny body spasm with the involuntary remainders of her sobs, I had no doubt she was only slowly recovering. Then the little girl tightened her grip on her mama's neck and laid her head on the safe shoulders. That's like me. The immediate crisis may be over, but I occasionally shudder. The tears may stop, but the convulsive sniffs aren't finished. Nothing changed for the toddler, but she threw herself deeper into her mother's embrace, her mother's safety. My one safe place is the embrace of Jesus. My ultimate comfort lies in diving deeper into…

THE LAST FEW YEARS HAVE been personally challenging for me. My husband had been laid off, and it became apparent that my struggling marriage would not survive. On a global scale, we were dealing with COVID-19, civil unrest, political upheaval, natural disasters, economic instability, and global conflicts. At this writing, there is scant evidence of lasting relief or a return to anything like normalcy. Yet I've been able to move through challenge after challenge by claiming and reclaiming the spiritual promise of 1 Peter 5:10. I remind myself of the times I have suffered, the trials I have endured, and I turn to this verse in 1 Peter. Jesus restores my faith, confirms my commitment to Christ, strengthens my resolve, and establishes my footing. Restoration and regrowth come after wildfires…

MY LAPTOP WAS DYING, AND it was time for a replacement. When the new one arrived, I was excited to transfer my files and take advantage of the chance to clean out old data. Skimming through folders, I was horrified at my terrible “cyber hygiene.” Duplicate documents. Folders that were tucked inside of other folders. Files with vague labels. No wonder I'd struggled to find things. I've committed to deleting items that take up valuable space on my new computer's hard drive. Without a diligent eye each day, emails pile up, folders get filled, and my former friend, chaos, creeps in. Like a computer that's cluttered with old or useless data, my life can become cluttered with sins. Perhaps I'm rehashing grievances and need to instead take my concerns to…

OUR SON AJ JUST OPENED his first bank account. I thought it was smart that he chose a bank that offered a substantial monetary gift for new customers, but months passed and the money never arrived. I figured he wasn't eligible somehow and shrugged it off. (Easier for me to do than it was for him.) One evening, the manager at the supermarket where AJ worked after school told him they needed to cut his hours. AJ was dejected. He relied on the money for snacks and sneakers and other incidentals. As parents, we wanted him to share the responsibility for buying things he wanted as he prepared for adulthood. He needed to learn to problem-solve and budget for himself. One day many weeks later, AJ brought in the mail…

I HAVE A CONFESSION TO make. For the last few months, almost a year in fact, I've felt anything but on fire for the Lord. I pray every morning and throughout the day. I read my Bible regularly and write stories for Christian magazines and anthologies. But the zeal I'd like to feel is absent. That dancing-on-the-front-lawn, uninhibited excitement of a three-year-old. Fervent prayers. Enthusiastic worship. The kinds of intense feelings I experienced as a new Christian. Back then I was relieved—no, thrilled—to discover that Jesus had already forgiven my sins. His love gave me a fresh start in life. I openly praised Jesus for every blessing—from a high grade on an essay to my friend Katie's decision to follow Him. I talked about Jesus all day long. I felt…

AN ACQUAINTANCE REMARKED ABOUT HOW busy I was when I declined an invitation for a social event. I felt irritated and judged because she didn't understand why I said no. It wasn't because I was too busy. I was setting boundaries around my priorities—rightsizing my life. I'd been working with an organization that used the term “rightsizing” as it was aligning its workforce with a new mission and work strategy. The concept fit what I needed, both professionally and personally. My husband and I worked different jobs, were new empty nesters, expecting a grandbaby, and planning a child's wedding. I often felt depleted from doing everything I used to do in addition to new responsibilities. In recent months, I'd heard Jesus say “no more” to activities I'd been doing for…

I TEND TO CHARGE MY cell phone at night. Just as I wake up with physical energy after a good night's sleep, my phone is fully charged and ready to go. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case last week. For two mornings in a row, my phone didn't charge at all. The first time, I thought it was a fluke. The second time, I searched out why. Upon close inspection, I found the cord had a loose connection at my cell phone's port. It was a bit baffling because I hadn't damaged the port in any way and the cord seemed perfectly fine to my eye. Yet, sure enough, when I changed to a new cord, all was well. I guess cords only last for so long. I'll just have to…

WRITERS ARE, BY NATURE, OBSERVANT. Because I'm a noticer, I'm particularly vulnerable to distraction. As I write this, I'm sitting in my hairstylist's chair, waiting for my color to “cook.” Another patron is engaged in lively conversation with his stylist. The air buzzes with dialogue about future appointments, new hairstyling gadgets, and the latest political buzz. I'm creating devotional thoughts. But the space is too crowded with noise for me to engage with the silence of hope in my heart. Many people aren't accustomed to silence and try hard to avoid it. I fill my home and car and office and ears with noise, perhaps to avoid having conversations or hearing myself. Or Jesus. And even when I crave silence and solitude, it isn't easy or natural to find. So…

I SAW A POST ON social media from a woman who said she offered a cart to another shopper in a grocery store parking lot. The shopper kept walking, so the woman thought the person didn't hear her. The woman spoke a little louder and repeated herself. The person stopped and hurled some profanities at the woman, who was so shocked that she didn't say another word. Replies to the post told me a lot about the respondents. Some said they would have had a few choice words for the shopper. Others wondered why the woman couldn't have just been civil. Still others said they would have just let it go because that's the way people are today. Only a few said they would have prayed for the unkind shopper.…

I RECENTLY EXPERIENCED A TSUNAMI of sadness that spanned ten weeks. During this time, five friends passed away. The oldest was only fifty-three. In addition, my brother contracted COVID-19 and ended up on a ventilator for nine days. At the same time he was in the hospital, a ministry coworker landed in the ICU with a serious infection and a family member sent me an email teeming with criticism that arrived on the day I'd scheduled a Facebook live broadcast. His comments caused my confidence to waver. I don't believe the timing was a coincidence. I pushed down my nervousness and smiled. Scripture promises that followers of Jesus will experience suffering (John 16:33). It's hard and it hurts, but we hold on to hope when we remember that it's only…

THE VOICE IS HARSH, CRITICAL, and condemning. It picks at every problem, magnifies my mishaps, ridicules each wrinkle. It is persistent, sometimes whispers, but often nags with urgency. Merciless and mischievous, it tends to blindside me when I'm feeling really good about myself or about something I've done. Whose accusatory voice is it? My own, encouraged by the enemy, who wants me to believe the worst about myself. Thank goodness I have a friend, Jesus, who also talks to me. Unlike the enemy, my Advocate and Savior Jesus speaks softly, gently, kindly. Even in redirecting me, He speaks simply, without shaming. He does not condemn me but instead speaks the truth that I am chosen (1 Peter 2:9), loved (John 3:16), and made in His image (Genesis 1:27). When I…

WE'RE NOT BANANA EATERS, yet somehow the fruit appears in my kitchen, where it lingers until it's too ripe and draws pesky fruit flies. I'm inclined to toss a brown bunch into the trash, but my husband prefers to whip up a batch of banana muffins. I can't get him to stop buying bananas, but I'm grateful he will salvage the throwaways. I'm also grateful Jesus salvages castoffs like my friend Jon, a former high school dropout and drug addict who owns a motorcycle shop. Or Craig, who still has the 1980s rocker look, even though he quit touring the heavy-metal circuit decades ago. If I'd met either of them years ago, I would have considered them too far gone. But both were renewed by Jesus. Today, when Jon meets…

I USED TO CLAIM DUAL citizenship. Being American and a registered tribal member of the Chickasaw Nation, I'm both a citizen of the United States and of the Chickasaw Nation. I'm also a registered voter in two nations: the United States and the Chickasaw Nation. And I have two presidents: POTUS and the president of the Chickasaw Nation. But then it dawned on me. I actually have triple citizenship. When I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, I was adopted into the family of God. I became a citizen of His kingdom with a permanent standing that became a reality the moment I accepted Jesus as Lord and Master of my life. I'm an eternal citizen of heaven. I became an American citizen automatically upon birth. But I didn't…

MY HEART RACED AS I logged on to the service center website and saw the status of my computer repair: Repairs complete. Computer picked up. Who picked up my computer? Certainly, no one in my household. Had some villain absconded with my newly repaired laptop and, along with it, all the information needed to assume my identity and empty my bank accounts? And why hadn't I received a call saying my repair had been finished, apparently weeks ago? The local store hadn't opened yet that morning, so I called the computer company's twenty-four-hour helpline. After an hour of being shuffled from one representative to the next, I was no closer to finding out where my computer had gone. I'd need to speak with an employee at the store. With each…

LAID ASIDE. LAID UP. PUT aside. Squirreled away. All those phrases collided in my mind as I watched videos of smart and simple means of storing produce, meat, beans, soup mix, and fruit for the future. A new generation of homestead-like households, even in suburbia, is taking more seriously the wisdom of having food set aside in case of power outages, supply chain shortages, storms, or even health issues that might prevent our traditional “go get it from the store” patterns. Throughout our early marriage and child-raising years, our basement shelves bulged with glistening jars of peaches, pears, tomatoes, and applesauce. We learned how to dehydrate to supply our children's insatiable appetite for fruit leathers and jerky. The pantry and freezers were full with homemade pickles, jam, sweet corn, venison,…

RECENTLY, ZANE AND I HAD dinner with Zane's college friend Mike. When we got married, Mike showed up at our wedding as a surprise. When Zane and I returned home from our honeymoon, we couldn't find our unity candle. Then on our one-year anniversary, our candle came in the mail with a note from Mike. I assumed he planned this surprise as a joke, and I didn't think it was funny. Fast-forward to our dinner recently, thirty-five years later. I reminded him of that incident. At first, Mike didn't recall doing it, but as we talked about it, he remembered. Turns out, after Zane and I departed for our honeymoon, he noticed no one had collected the candle. He took it home with the intention of mailing it to us…

RECOUNTING HER LATEST ADVENTURES IN farm life, my daughter described how her shovel hit a rock when digging a hole for a tree she was planting. Certain she could just dig out the rock, she shoveled away. But the bigger she dug the hole, the bigger the rock became. Finally, she called in reinforcements to help excavate what was an enormous boulder. The task required a backhoe along with a massive steel pry bar and heavy chains to wrench the behemoth boulder free. Visualizing the intense excavation process reminds me of the equally hard yet rewarding work of healing and recovery. Years of personal and ministerial experience in Celebrate Recovery, a Christian twelve-step program, taught me that digging deep to remove heavy, buried obstacles is not a solo job. It…

“SHE IS THE EPITOME OF GRACE.” “He oozes kindness.” “As a couple, they are the picture of generosity.” “My grandfather embodied quiet strength.” I do it all the time: I observe a trait so clearly demonstrated in another person that it's difficult to separate the human from the admirable trait. I watched my hostess for the weekend, her eyes and ears always attentive to the needs of her guests, including me. Her thoughtfulness and ability to anticipate what might bless or encourage or—yes—feed us wrote these words on my heart: she is what hospitality was always meant to be. As I considered how this hostess personified hospitality, I was reminded of the way Jesus personified everything God the Father is and everything we could ever need—Provider, Protector, Defender, Comfort, Rescuer,…

Copyright © 2024 by Guideposts. All rights reserved. This publication, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Every attempt has been made to credit the sources of copyrighted material used in this book. If any such acknowledgment has been inadvertently omitted or miscredited, receipt of such information would be appreciated. Scripture quotations marked (AMP) are taken from the Amplified Bible. Copyright © 2015 by The Lockman Foundation, La Habra, California. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked (CEV) are taken from Holy Bible: Contemporary English Version. Copyright © 1995 American Bible Society. Scripture quotations marked (ESV) are taken from the Holy Bible, English Standard…

MY EYESIGHT HAS ALWAYS BEEN poor. I got my first pair of corrective eyeglasses at age six, then needed stronger and thicker prescription lenses every couple of months over the next few years. By nine, I exchanged my glasses for rigid contact lenses. Without them, I was legally blind. Since both of my parents lost their sight from glaucoma, my eye doctor keeps a close watch on my pressure readings. One July, I suffered my first detached retina in my right eye and underwent emergency surgery. For the next two weeks, I had to keep my head parallel to the floor 24/7 to facilitate healing. Soon after, I underwent another surgery on that eye to repair lingering damage, which meant another two weeks face down. While traveling across Morocco on…

TODAY, A PARADE WILL MARCH down the streets of my town. My family will gather at my house to grill burgers, churn homemade ice cream, and play cornhole. Then we'll join our community at the park to enjoy live music until it's time for the fireworks display. Interestingly, the way Americans celebrate this historical holiday hasn't changed much since 1777, when Philadelphia celebrated the first Independence Day. While those fireworks were not the elaborate displays we witness, the evening began and concluded with the firing of thirteen rockets—breathtaking to those colonists no doubt. However, while the early Americans celebrated freedom from tyranny, today we celebrate patriotism. The birth of this nation represents more than politics and patriotism, though. We have a rich Christian heritage. Many early colonists and immigrants viewed…

I'VE HEARD MANY GOOD SERMONS over many years, and when I take notes, I think I learn more. Lately, the children's sermon has been my greatest blessing. The little ones walk (or are carried) to the front of the church, where Pastor sits on the steps and tells them about Jesus. The children listen all a-wiggle, guessing at and shouting out answers to Pastor's questions. He tells a Bible story, teaches some simple truth, and recites a Bible verse, which the little ones might repeat after him. Jesus is central. The children are assured and reminded of His love. Sometimes there's a song. They finish with prayer, then they head back to their seats. The children of our congregation demonstrate how to accept and receive simply. Where I might overthink…

THE HVAC SYSTEM IN OUR attic had a small leak that soaked through the ceiling in our master bathroom. We quickly called in a professional who fixed the problem, but the stain on the ceiling remained. Painting the whole ceiling seemed like overkill. I took a shortcut and purchased a can of spray paint that sprays straight up, kills any accumulated mold, and, of course, covers the stain. Unfortunately, the shade of white covering the spot was too bright for the age of the ceiling. The new paint stuck out like a sore thumb. So, I kept spraying, trying to blend and fade the edges to match the old paint. I ended up spraying half the ceiling, and residual spray hit the walls, floor, and tub. It looks terrible! I…

“DON'T SHAKE THAT BOTTLE, JEANETTE. It will make tons of bubbles, and we'll get a glass full of those instead of the grape juice.” I blinked in confusion at my husband, Kevin, who's rarely bossy. Especially this early in the morning. “But that's what Daddy always did when we had grape juice. My brother and I would argue over the glass with the most bubbles.” I had less than a dozen distinct memories of my father, who left when I was six and died when I was ten. Grape juice bubbles was one of the happiest. “Aha,” he said, as an understanding smile lightened Kevin's face. Jesus sees every wound of my soul, even the broken places I've hidden from myself. He understands why I need that silly reminder of…

MY FRIEND JUDY AND I were walking on a trail when a young man pushing his bike walked toward us. “The worst thing ever just happened,” he said. “A part fell off my bike and now I can't ride it.” He showed us where the missing piece used to be. As a bike rider, I knew exactly what it looked like. I told him we'd look for it and if we found it, we'd get it to him. His shoulders slumped, and I sensed his hopelessness as we walked off in opposite directions. Judy and I thought it impossible to find the tiny part on the trail with knee-high grasses aligning both sides. But Jesus encourages believers to pray about everything, including lost things. He told three parables about loss.…

HOME RENOVATION PROJECTS CAN BE nerve-racking, and updating the bathroom in our century-old Memphis home was no exception. During the first few days the contractors were there, I crammed my home office into my laptop bag and went to work with my husband, who is a college professor. His tall, dark, and neatly lined bookshelves against the white cement-brick wall were a perfect backdrop for video calls, but I had difficulty getting much done while I was displaced from my home office. After three months, the renovation was almost complete. The crew had to make only a few touch-ups, but part of the tiling was uneven and, honestly, sloppy. The lead contractor agreed to return in a few days to redo that section. Even though this inconvenienced him and he…

I HAVE A HUGE WATER jug that I fill up in the morning and keep on my desk to sip from throughout the day. It's marked with various encouraging words at two-hour intervals, starting with “Good morning!” at 7 a.m., “That's it!” at 3 p.m., and finally, “Well done!” at 9 p.m. There are days when I drink steadily from the jug. Sometimes I guzzle the water to catch up and stay on task so that I can finish the container. Other days I hardly put a dent in it. When I fail to drink up as I should, I realize that hydration is not a priority in the story about Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well, when Jesus says He is “living water” and those who drink…

ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS to do is to attend online tours of historical sites. Virtually, I've walked through royal tombs in Egypt. I've explored ancient ruins in Rome. And I've also seen carvings in the burial chambers of four kings in the Persian Empire. It's interesting to visit those primitive places from the comfort of my living room. Even more interesting to me is that some of the people from history who received great glory during their time on earth are barely known today. For example, I would imagine few of us in 2024 have heard of the pharaoh Horemheb. Over time, great empires are overthrown. Those in power change, and their grand palaces are reduced to rubble. Honored leaders and their dynasties are forgotten, and the cities they…

SERVING AS A WORSHIP LEADER at our church for the past several years has been a joy and privilege. In preparing to take the stage, I often ask the Lord for wisdom and insight that I can share to enhance our congregational worship or deepen my own spiritual growth. Once, while reading Psalm 96, verse 9 caught my attention: “Worship the Lord in holy attire.” Intrigued, I asked Jesus what this meant. For several moments I waited, trusting the Holy Spirit to illuminate this scripture. Then all at once, deep in my spirit, I understood. Worshipping in holy attire means coming before Him with a clean and pure heart. Feverishly, I flipped the pages of my Bible to Isaiah 61:10 (NASB) and read, “My soul will be joyful in my…

ONE OF MY FRIDGE MAGNETS contains a quote by Mother Teresa that says: “I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much.” Her words make me smile. I've heard many people express gratitude for the opportunity to slow down during the pandemic. I experienced the opposite. My international travels stopped, but staying home made it possible for me to write three books. Then came their launches. This meant developing launch teams, writing relevant magazine articles, and doing media interviews. My career as a devotional podcast host also began during the pandemic. This involved researching historical and biblical context before writing and recording nearly a dozen episodes per month. My workload increased exponentially, and then speaking events and overseas…

I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH perfection. I want to be perfect! Perfectionism holds me back from simple joys like having my friend Terri over for lunch. When I consider the chaos in my craft room, the tracked-in sand on the floor, or any of the other ways my house is not cleaned or organized, I put it off. A friend in my newlywed days didn't worry about being perfect. Carolyn invited us often for dinner, sometimes before even checking to see what she had to serve. Her house was clean under the clutter, but she wasn't self-conscious and didn't apologize. She loved the Lord, loved company, and loved me well. Carolyn didn't try to be perfect, but she made friends feel perfectly at home. Yet here is Jesus talking to…

AFTER HURRICANE LAURA RAVAGED SOUTH Louisiana in August 2020, a massive cleanup began with volunteers pouring in from all directions. Some groups brought chainsaws and equipment to cut up thousands of trees that had fallen on houses, roads, and power lines. On my local Louisiana town's social media page, I saw a picture of a tree stump that had a big, chunky cross carved into its top. The ground below it was covered with branches and debris, but what grabbed my attention was the image of beauty amidst chaos. I later talked with Keith, who has been carving crosses for many years during his cleanup work with the Shreveport Volunteer Network. Amazingly, this man can carve a cross in five minutes with a chainsaw. If there is no stump available,…

A STATE PARK A FEW hours from our home is popular with rock climbers. Jagged cliffs rise up from a river valley. Sharp contours and steep angles seem impossible to traverse. After exploring a few trails, my husband and I stopped to watch a man scale one of those cliffs. His climbing partner observed from the ground, directing him to good footholds or handholds. The climber tested each jutting stone before putting his weight on it. By choosing the solid rocks, he made it to the top. I learned a lot watching that climber. Gripping an unsteady support could cause scraped skin, a collision with the rock face, or worse. Not to mention that dislodging stones could hurt the partner below. When I'm struggling on Jesus's path for my life,…

SOMETIMES I JOURNAL MY PRAYERS, pouring out my heart on paper to Jesus. Writing my worries and cares somehow frees them. Afterward, I sit quietly—a huge challenge—and listen to Jesus. But yesterday He interrupted me. I'd asked the Lord for deliverance from a spending addiction, to fill my soul with His Spirit of grace until I craved His fellowship more than I longed to make up for my empty places by buying more stuff. From that point, I went on to request that Jesus help a friend overcome her penchant for collecting things. That's when He interrupted me. “Work on your own logs” was all He said. As I gazed at the purple ink on the page, I remembered the red-lettered verse and chuckled. OK, Lord, I thought, I get…

I HAVE LITTLE LEFT TO GIVE, I typed in a weekly text to two prayer partners. I pushed back my discomfort and was honest about my emptiness. It was a difficult month of caregiving for my widowed mom and adult kids, who called when life was hard. As a counselor, I know about self-care. I set professional boundaries to avoid burnout. My job, however, was not the problem. Reciprocal, caring relationships were lacking in my life. I often am the encourager people seek out when they are down. My prayer partners are among the few people in my life who ask how I'm doing. It felt vulnerable to tell my family and friends how exhausted and emotionally depleted I was. During my time with Jesus the next morning, I read…

IT WAS JUST ANOTHER SUNDAY. My husband, Jeff, and I drank our coffee, read our devotions, and got dressed for services. Early on, my attention strayed from the Sunday school lesson. Had I unplugged the coffeepot? Before I knew it, class was over, and Jeff and I moved to the sanctuary. There my random thoughts turned to worries. Would my daughter find a doctor for her son's headaches? I rose automatically to sing the first song, projected on a large screen above the stage. When I did, it felt as if someone had placed hands on my shoulders and was pressing inward. I glanced at Jeff, but his hands were by his sides. After I sat down, I still perceived the steady, gentle pressure of hands holding my shoulders. All…

AFTER LEAVING THE DRUGSTORE, I sat in my car, preoccupied with worry over a troubling situation. A tap on my window startled me. A thin woman in a tattered gold sweater motioned for me to lower the glass. She'd just gotten out of the hospital and didn't have food or a place to stay. I gave her all the cash in my billfold and told her I hoped things would get better. Unexpectedly, she burst into song: “One day at a time, sweet Jesus; that's all I'm asking of You . . . ” Her voice was deep and mellow. The message was one I needed to hear. Curious about the origin of the song, I researched it. In 1973, Nashville songwriter Marijohn Wilkin drove a Cadillac and wore a…

MY SOAKING TUB ISN'T VERY big, but it's deep—deep enough to float in. Floating might be my favorite thing now, but that would surprise my mother, who thought I'd never master it when I was a child. I was fine if my parent's or swimming teacher's arms supported me, but I panicked whenever they tried to transition me to floating on my back solo. I immediately tensed up or flailed in order to grab anyone or anything nearby. Finally, Mom convinced me to practice in the Gulf of Mexico, saying that I'd float higher in salt water. The difference was probably minuscule, but there at the beach, I relaxed enough to lie back, rock on the waves, and float. All I had needed to do was not to do anything—to…

MY HUSBAND AND I BOTH admit to having a fear of the dark, especially when we were young teenagers. Neither of us knew Jesus as our Savior at that time, and it didn't help that we both loved watching scary movies and TV shows at night. Little did we know, we were inviting fear to come live with us. Thankfully, my fears subsided by the time I went off to college, but my husband says his fear of darkness lingered well into adulthood. Growing up in the sparse Mississippi Delta might have added to his dread. But the fear seemed to follow him wherever he went, even when he summered “up north” with his family in the Connecticut suburbs. He describes it as being bullied in his sleep. He couldn't…

I HAVE A BAD HABIT of placing my cell phone on the arm of my comfy chair during my morning devotion time. I convince myself the phone won't be a distraction because the ringer is off and the screen is face down. I also don't delete texts very often. If you texted me six months ago, chances are I can search for a minute or three and find your message. Recently, these two phone facts changed how I pray. One morning while thinking about a friend facing a significant life transition, I felt led to text a prayer to her. As I scrolled through old messages to find our conversation thread, all those texts suddenly turned into a prayer list. I scrolled past a text from the superintendent of the…

Our mission is to inspire people to believe anything is possible with faith, hope, and prayer. Printed and bound in the United States of America. Contributors: Becky Alexander, Susanna Foth Aughtmon, Jeannie Blackmer, Isabella Campolattaro, Susan Downs, Pat Butler Dyson, Grace Fox, Heidi Gaul, Tricia Goyer, Sharon Hinck, Pamela Toussaint Howard, Jeanette Levellie, Ericka Loynes, Erin Keeley Marshall, Dianne Neal Matthews, Claire McGarry, Jennifer Anne F. Messing, Cynthia Ruchti, Emily E. Ryan, Karen Sargent, Suzanne Davenport Tietjen, Cassandra Tiersma, Barbranda Lumpkins Walls, Branda L. Yoder Credits: Cover photo: Frank McKenna, Unsplash; July monthly opener photo: Daniel Haaf, Unsplash; August monthly opener photo: Aaron Burden, Unsplash; Editor: Morgan Beard; Designer: Nicole White; Copy Editor: Margaret Nussey…

WHEN I GOT MY FIRST mountain bike years ago, I refused to wear a helmet. I liked the feeling of the wind in my hair. My husband, Jeff, said, “Even as hardheaded as you are, Pat, if you fell and hit your head, it could break.” I tried to ignore him, but he'd taken some of the joy out of my freedom. Finally, his constant nagging about how sad it would be for our kids to grow up without a mother guilted me into wearing a helmet. Jeff's most recent focus was trying to convince me not to listen to music with earbuds while I rode. “You can't hear oncoming traffic. You could get distracted and have an accident,” he warned. But wasn't Christian music a good thing? How could…

RED, WHITE, AND BLUE FIREWORKS lit the sky above the dark country road. Our family Fourth of July picnic had ended, and I was driving home alone. I gripped the wheel from curve to curve. Just as I started down a hill, my headlights caught movement up ahead. Boom! The road in front of my car exploded with streams of sparkling color and deafening blasts. I swerved left and then right, before driving straight into the smoke. I screeched to a terrifying stop, while a group of teenagers hee-hawed nearby. Like those wayward teens, the enemies of my faith would like to wreck me. They laugh and claim my biblical beliefs are closed-minded and outdated. When they whisper these insinuations in my ear, I can't swerve to the left. When…

I WAS WITHIN A MILE from our house after picking up my husband, Ron, from the hospital after his life-threatening accident. I stepped on the car's accelerator to get us home quicker. It decelerated instead. Oh no! The car barely coasted into our driveway. A major car repair was not something we needed in addition to everything else. Ron had left his teaching career a few months earlier to work outdoors for a local business. Now our financial future was uncertain because of his injuries and his inability to work during an undetermined time of recovery. What now, Jesus? That evening, I remembered a conversation I had with a friend after Ron's accident. She offered to set up financial assistance to help with our medical needs and expenses while Ron…

SIX MONTHS AFTER OUR FAMILY moved, we felt Jesus leading us to move again, this time across several hundred miles. We closed on our fifth home in less than five years. To some people, that much moving may not make sense. In some ways, even to us, it felt like too much. We were weary. Despite those feelings, however, the move has felt purposeful every day since we heard Jesus's voice urging us to go. We continue to see Him show up in fresh ways we would not have experienced if we had not obeyed. What makes sense to Jesus is often absurd by human logic. But I'm human. I'm more comfortable with logic. Jesus had a pattern of audacious action. The fishermen disciples had made careers of catching fish.…

WHILE IN BEIRUT, I MET a young man named “A.” Born and raised in Syria as a Muslim, A was tortured by ISIS for refusing to withdraw from his studies in social justice. One day, while in prison, he cried, “God, rescue me if You're real.” A bomb destroyed the prison soon afterward, and A escaped to Lebanon. That's where he learned about Jesus. After training to become a career missionary, A founded a school for Syrian children. He trusted the Lord to provide a facility, food for hot lunches, and educational supplies. North American donors contributed to the cause, a team of six national coworkers joined the work, and the ministry grew to include Bible studies for the students' parents. However, A lived in constant danger because he could…

MY NIECE, LILY, IS ONE of my favorite people. She is six years old, loves unicorns, and adores all things sparkly. We live in different states, so we don't see each other that often. But when we do, she greets me with a giant hug and a shout of “Aunt Sue!” I sweep her up in my arms and kiss her all over her face. This summer when we were on a family vacation together, Lily chose me to be her pal at the community pool. The pool had a lazy river with inner tubes for floating. Lily and I spent a good hour being pulled by the gentle current, drifting around the lazy river. I sat in the inner tube, and she sat on my lap. We trailed our…

I SAT ACROSS THE TABLE from my dear friend and reached for her hand as she searched for words that wouldn't come. Her eyes revealed the sorrow trapped inside. When the waitress brought our meal, we prayed and made an effort to eat. But food was the last reason we'd met that day. A week earlier, my companion had lost her mother following a brief illness, and her pain burned deep and raw. She hungered to be comforted and understood. At home, I'd prayed to Jesus to give me the words to soothe her, and He provided. Our time together spread from one hour to the next. Conversation moved from precious memories of a woman's life well-lived to tears and finally to laughter. Thoughts of the future braided through our…

MY TWENTY-SOMETHING DAUGHTER AND HER husband have joined the “skoolie” movement. They purchased a seventy-two-passenger, flatnose Blue Bird school bus from a district replacing its fleet. Why would they want to own a school bus? Good question. I wondered that too. The enormous yellow vehicle is stripped of all lettering on the outside, the seats were removed, and the walls and floor have been reduced to a metal shell. On paper, my daughter has put her interior design degree to work. They will rebuild the interior of the bus into an RV, complete with a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. The exterior will be painted to match the inside, a striped 1970s pastel color scheme—powder blue, tangerine, salmon, and eggshell. Once the old bus has been transformed into a new motor…

A YOUNG PASTOR FROM MY church enjoyed a day at a water park with his family. His six-year-old daughter asked permission to go to an adjoining area where she could swim laps. Since Adam wanted to stay and help his wife with their younger daughter, he gave Hannah specific instructions: “Each time you come up out of the water, look over at me. As long as you can see me, I can see you. And I can save you if you get in trouble.” We have Someone who always keeps His eyes on us like a loving earthly father. But Jesus can see where we are physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As Philip the apostle approached Jesus to introduce his friend, Jesus pronounced Nathanael a man of integrity. Amazed, Nathanael asked…

AFTER SEVERAL RELOCATIONS OVER THE years, my husband and I will move to the state where we were raised. We haven't lived there since 1982, and our children and grandchildren now live in different parts of the country. I recently mentioned to a friend that I felt as though I had no roots. “Does an adult need roots?” he asked. I silently responded: Yes, unless you want to be a tumbleweed. A tumbleweed is defined as the aboveground part of any of a number of plants that, once mature and dry, disengage from the root and tumble away in the wind. I first encountered tumbleweeds while living in Utah and something scratchy bumped into my leg. I got used to seeing these skeletal orbs blowing around or stuck in all…

I'M A FAN OF TOMATOES. This spring, I planted four different kinds: heirloom, Early Girl, Sun Gold, and Roma. The starter plants I placed in my gardening beds weren't much bigger than my palm. I had no idea how they would do and tried to make growing conditions perfect. I added organic mulch to the soil and placed a shiny green tomato cage over each plant. Bright sun and regular watering caused an abundance of growth. The plants were so huge and heavy with fruit that they bent the tomato cages sideways. Each afternoon, I filled a mixing bowl with the day's bounty. But the plants were doing exactly what they were made to do: grow, grow, GROW. Sometimes, I forget that Jesus wants me to prosper. I get sidetracked…

THROUGH A NEW MINISTRY AT church, Nelda was assigned to be my mentor. At our first meeting, I shared that I was between jobs as a teacher and nervous about transitioning from private to public school. As a former educator herself, she reminded me to trust Jesus with the details of my career. I also mentioned my concern about the added expenses we were facing now that our oldest son was entering high school. The academic year hadn't even started yet, and there were already talks of school trips that would cost several hundred dollars. I had no idea where that money would come from. Nelda's eyes lit up, and she leaned forward in her chair. “I know!” she said. “We'll sell pot pies!” She explained that her signature pot…

I OFTEN WATCH VIDEOS OF home construction projects. It's not that I'm likely to ever work in construction. That would take a stronger back, arms, knees, shoulders—pretty much everything stronger than what I could offer to the task. But I do enjoy virtually peeking behind the scenes. What makes a solid foundation? What steps are necessary before a foundation is even poured? What kinds of weather, climate, or terrain dictate the materials, timing, and details of construction? Because I'm also an armchair archaeologist, I'm curious about the remnants of long-ago civilizations, and ancient construction techniques fascinate me too. How did that building remain intact for so many centuries? Is that one still inhabitable? Today, I took another look at the intentional building practices Jesus employed in creating God's kingdom. He…

I GREW UP ON THE land next to Grandpa Chip's homeplace. He had a hill for sledding in the winter, a garden of sweet corn in the summer, and a pond full of fish year-round. I often escaped the noise of my two younger siblings to sit by that peaceful pond. I hid my secret treasure there too, beneath an overturned canoe on the bank. My treasure, a pink New Testament, stayed completely dry within a plastic zipper bag. I'd pull it from under the old wooden boat and read the most miraculous things: Jesus walked on water. He fed thousands of people with a few loaves of bread and two fish. A man's daughter died, and Jesus brought her back to life! The stories stirred my young heart and…

YEARS AGO, A DEAR FRIEND told me she prays for me daily. Learning she'd brought my needs before Jesus, I felt humbled and grateful. Her devotion in prayer reminded me of when my daughter was younger. She and I shared everything in prayer, pouring out all our hopes to Him. She often prayed for the man she'd marry, whom she hadn't yet encountered. They were simple requests, like asking for him to have a good night's sleep or that he might be looking at the moon at the same moment she was. The simple faith of those prayers touched me. Lately, with her trusting petitions to Jesus in mind, I've begun reciting some of my own but with a twist. I'm praying for a friend I haven't met yet. Somewhere,…

OH, NO! NOT AGAIN. I bolted from my couch to my office. I had dismissed the phone alerts all week and now it was almost midnight, which meant my Kohl's Cash was about to expire. I had to decide if twenty minutes was enough time to make a quick online purchase or if I had to accept losing another valuable offer. The worst kind of rewards programs for me are the ones that attach expiration dates to the points I've earned. I'm so glad Jesus's offer of an inheritance in heaven, an eternal reward, is not a vain hope, not based on earnings, and not in limited supply. Because His work and reach are not time-sensitive, His other offers, such as peace and protection here on earth, are always available.…

I LOVE THE WORD GRIT, which means to me emotional and mental tenacity. Strength of character. The keep-on-keeping-on, bounce-back ability that helps a person endure difficulties. I first heard the buzzword years ago when a friend told me I have it. (I cherish that compliment.) Since then, the trendy word has been showing up everywhere, inviting me to pause and consider its impact. Even the sound of it boosts my courage. But the other day, I had an aha moment. It was a relaxed Saturday morning, and I was enjoying some pampering time. Standing at the bathroom sink, I splashed cool water on my face, then rubbed exfoliator scrub in circular strokes, enjoying the gritty feel and the expectation of smoother skin. After that, I reached for my manicure set…

Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God. 2 Corinthians 7:1 (NIV) YESTERDAY, I WENT TO THE dentist's office and learned a cavity had developed in one of my molars. I had visions of the dentist, brows furrowed in judgment, asking me, “How in the world could you have let this happen? Don't you floss?” (Clearly, not enough.) I let fear creep in. Maybe the tooth needed to be pulled! My experience with the dentist was the opposite of what I imagined. She was kind, gentle, and understanding. She told me I needed a filling and that they would get me in as soon as possible. She wanted me on the road…

SEVERAL YEARS AGO, I WON a scholarship to a California Christian writers' conference. The contest was called the “First Timers Contest” and was only open to those who had never attended before. After I arrived and unpacked, I walked to the dining hall, eager to meet the other scholarship recipients for our first meal together. We found the table that had been set up especially for us and immediately laughed at the blatant typo on the centerpiece. A bold red-and-white sign read: “Winners of the First Timmers Contest.” We discussed whether we should bring the mistake to the attention of the conference coordinators and request a reprint, but in the end, we decided that we liked it that way. Not only did the misspelling become fodder for inside jokes and…

PEOPLE HAVE DIFFERENT AREAS OF expertise. Maybe they've earned a reputation as an expert through honing their natural gifts or dedicating themselves to perfecting a specific skill. Me? I'm an expert second-guesser. I have a talent for dwelling on past decisions and wondering if I made the best choice. You might be impressed if you knew how much anxiety I can wring out of a moment from my distant past, or if you could count how many of my thoughts begin with “if only I had” or “I should have.” I'm also pretty good at analyzing other people's actions and how much better my life would be if they had chosen differently. I have to admit, that's a miserable way to live, and it's not the lifestyle Jesus wants for…

I LAUNCHED MY BOOK DURING the second year of the pandemic and did as many virtual interviews as I could to promote it. Not being very tech-savvy, I learned to navigate in cyberspace by trial and error. With each virtual call, I had to troubleshoot a new issue, things like improving the area where I recorded by increasing the lighting for better visibility and rearranging the items behind me for a more pleasing backdrop. Now, when I look back on that first interview, I'm embarrassed by all my rookie mistakes. Not only was I nervous and tripped over my words, but also the space was so dark that the shadows made my slightly discolored incisor tooth look like Witchiepoo's blacked-out tooth in H.R. Pufnstuf. I was mortified! The worst part…