Innehållsförteckning för March/April 2020 från Mornings with Jesus

SOMETIMES I GET FRUSTRATED when I pray, wishing my mind didn’t wander so much, wishing that I could concentrate better, wishing I could find the right words to pray, wishing I had more time for it. Then I start thinking about all those other things I could do to be a better follower of Jesus, like giving more and being patient and kind and not so judgmental. Should I wear a big sign that says, WORLD’S CHRISTIAN? Times like these I turn to an age-old prayer, good for a spiritual reboot: “Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Jesus told a parable about two men—one a Pharisee, the other a tax collector—who went up to the temple to pray. On the surface, the Pharisee looked the holier of the…

MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS HAVE passed since I received my first invitation to speak at a women’s event. Word of mouth spread, and invitations increased. It seemed obvious that Jesus was opening these ministry doors, so I walked through them despite feeling woefully inadequate. My stomach knotted and my knees knocked every time I got up to teach. One weekend while in my hotel room between meetings, I experienced an aha moment. It was like Jesus removed a veil from my eyes, so I could see the reason behind my fear: pride. The revelation shocked me, but I knew it was true. I was more concerned about making a good impression on my audiences than about making Jesus famous. I wanted women to like me, and I wanted them to…

I WAS A LATECOMER TO the Downton Abbey craze a few years ago, but soon became fascinated with the vast differences between high society and servant status and the similarities between their hearts’ longings, strengths, and weaknesses. Staff members took their responsibilities seriously. I was humbled by their quick response times, how they anticipated the needs of their masters and mistresses and made accommodations for the smallest or most inconvenient requests. Then I reread this passage from Luke 12. Speaking to His close followers, Jesus told them to be “dressed for service . . . . like people waiting for their master to come home.” What does that mean to a twenty-first-century servant of Jesus Christ? Am I ready for whatever He asks of me? Could that mean that I…

A WOMAN I WORK WITH couldn’t give me her home address. I imagined the possibilities. Homeless? Evicted? Memory loss? Living out of her car? Sleeping on a friend’s couch? Witness protection program? The answer was much simpler—and more complicated—than that. She and her husband were in the process of moving. Their current address wouldn’t be viable for long and her new address wasn’t “hers” until they signed the final papers. Jesus had a home with His earthly parents while growing up. But as an adult, after His ministry began, He had no home, according to Scripture. Not even a “tiny house” in a friend’s backyard. Have you wondered why? In biblical times, a home was a cultural sign of manhood. Owning property indicated that one was established, successful, part of…

MY HUSBAND AND I LOVE cats. Our home is full of them. We live close to a river where people often leave their unwanted pets. One day, some kittens made their way to our porch. These little lions —Timmy and Johnny—were soon joined by another abandoned marmalade, Tommy. He’s mild as a lamb. Next, we adopted a local farmer’s female kitten. At only six weeks old, our feisty Ivy quickly ruled the household. Later, we added Milo to our brood. This little tuxedo couldn’t resist tormenting his farmer-owner’s chickens. Now he spends time in good-natured wrestling with the other cats. A variety of circumstances brought these felines into our home. We don’t know much about their pasts or how they survived. We only know they belong with us and we’ll…

ON A LEDGE ABOVE THE desk where I write sit two stuffed toy sheep approximately eight inches tall. One is dressed like a shepherd from biblical times, cloaked in a brown striped robe and head covering. He hugs a staff in the crook of one elbow, and he wears lace-up sandals on his hind feet. The other wears four lime-green socks with purple toes. Two wee daisies—yellow and pink—are tucked behind one ear. These comical lambs survived my household purge because they convey a vital message: I constantly need Jesus, the Good Shepherd. Sheep aren’t exactly the smartest animals on the farm. They’re easy prey. They wander off safe paths to places where they become lost or hurt. They’re prone to becoming “cast”—rolling onto their backs when their center of…

THIS PAST YEAR I LAUNCHED myself back into the workforce—as a middle school teacher. I know. It was a wild idea. In preparation for this new career, I met with my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Cox. (Best. Teacher. Ever.) I asked her, seriously, “How in the world am I going to do this?” In her calm way, she set my feet on the path of teacher wisdom: “Be firm. Explain EVERYTHING. Set boundaries. Have routines. Share procedures. Be prepared. Be ready to improvise because teaching is fluid.” As she spoke, I thought, I want to be just like you. I said, “I have a lot to learn.” She said, “Keeping thinking that. The teacher who thinks she knows it all is finished.” I am far from finished. This truth is mirrored…

MY HEART SWELLS WHEN I hear about exceptional acts of compassion. The little girl who designed a bracelet to raise funds to help pay for a friend’s lung transplant. The eleven-year-old who returned his Christmas presents so he could purchase gifts for children of the incarcerated. The four-year-old hero who asked his parents to take all the money he earned as an allowance and what they would normally spend on toys for him, so he could buy chicken sandwiches for the homeless, whom he served personally while wearing a superhero cape, telling each recipient, “Don’t forget to show love.” The grieving mom who—days after her daughter died following a long battle with cancer—sat in a hospital waiting room crocheting hats for premature babies, praying for each one with each stitch.…

ONE MORNING I OVERSLEPT. THEN, while rushing around the kitchen, I spilled a glass of orange juice all over the counter. After that, I got stuck behind a slow driver and was late for work. When I got to work, it was hectic. The phone was ringing. The computer kept crashing. Customers were waiting. And there was a stack of orders to be filled. I was anxious. So I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer. Dear Jesus, please calm me, and help me adjust my attitude. I started ringing up customers in the pharmacy. “That will be three dollars and sixteen cents,” I said. Hmm . . . $3.16. John 3:16 popped into my mind. Later, I picked up a bottle of medicine. The number 316 was…

I DROVE TO MY COUSIN’S home to deliver her birthday gift. I noticed that the green oak tree that loomed over her roof was now gray and stripped of leaves in the middle of spring. The hundred-foot tree was dead. My cousin reported that she and her husband did not have money to pay a tree trimmer. I drove away consumed with fear because my cousin and her husband have two small children. One ferocious wind or rainstorm had the potential to topple the brittle tree. My mind ran wild with tragic scenarios. I wanted to help my cousin and her husband pay to have the tree cut. My mother stopped me. “Leave them alone!” she said. “Let those young people handle their own problems.” Over time the tree began…

TODAY I RETURNED TO SCHOOL after spring break, and learned that my coteacher’s grandmother had passed away. Sometimes when I speak with someone who’s lost a loved one, I hesitate to ask questions. I don’t want to be intrusive. But today I remembered the tremendous hurt I felt when my beloved maternal grandmother died, so I asked my colleague about her grandmother. She told me about the treasure of journals, Bibles, photo albums, and keepsake books that had been discovered in her grandmother’s house. For years, her grandmother had written prayers of blessings and protection for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, speaking life, healing, hope, and prosperity into the lives of her family. Her grandmother left a legacy of faith for her family, just as Lois did for Timothy in…

A FEW WEEKS BEFORE EASTER, our church gave each member ten door hangers to hand out in our neighborhoods. We were supposed to invite people to our Easter service, but to my shame, I didn’t give any to my neighbors. I gave one to a coworker and the rest sat on my table. Initially I told myself I’d deliver the door hangers in the evening when most folks would be home. But I never went. I used my injured knee as an excuse, but the real reason was that I didn’t want to talk to anyone when I dropped off the door hangers. Lives could have been changed and souls saved by that one simple act. Jesus was and is moved by the condition of people’s lives. Jesus willingly gave…

PALM SUNDAY MARKS THE FIRST day of Holy Week, the day we celebrate Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem amid the crowd’s fanfare. We focus on waving palm branches and cheers that quickly turned to derision. But there’s another angle to this story—one that deserves a closer look. Scripture tells us that Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. Some Bible versions say He “was determined to go.” Without doubt, Jesus had made up His mind to travel there, and no one could convince Him otherwise. Here’s the nugget: He did so knowing that His triumphal entry marked the beginning of the end of His time on earth. He knew He’d die there, yet He went. If I knew that visiting a particular city meant death for me, I’d change my plans. Wouldn’t…

ON THIS DAY OF HOLY Week, let’s rejoice in the gift of the Holy Spirit who lives in us thanks to what Jesus did on Calvary. Jesus was called “the lamb without blemish.” His death on the cross satisfied the blood sacrifice needed to atone for our sins. When we place our faith in Him for salvation, we nail our sinful nature to His cross and crucify it there (Galatians 5:24). Our old self dies with Him, and just as He rose from the dead, He raises us to new life. There’s only one problem: our old nature and habits don’t give up without a fight. They want to rule as they’ve done in the past. We need help to resist their negative influence. God knows our weaknesses, so He…

BEING INVOLVED IN WOMEN’S MINISTRY and global missions means I hear people’s life stories. Some are victorious; some aren’t. My heart breaks for Jesus followers who live trapped in destructive attitudes and behaviors such as fear, jealousy, unforgiveness, pride, lust, greed, and gluttony. Some recognize their plight and seek biblical counseling to break free. Others seem content to live as captives of the enemy. I can relate. For several years my physical appetite held me hostage. I overate three times a day and gorged on junk food in secret, all while struggling with obesity. I knew gluttony was sin, but I felt helpless to stop. I identified with Paul, who wrote, “I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another law at work within me that is…

CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT IT would have been like to be Mary on that day? Faithfully and quietly going to the tomb to be near Jesus’s body, to tend to unglamorous, needful things. It was an act of worship, in her own way. Some say she was lacking faith because she looked for Him at the tomb—she should have known He was risen, after all. But I don’t judge her. She was limited, human, fallible. Her world ended with His death. He was her teacher, but much more. Jesus loved her not only for what she was, but who she wanted to be. The world looks at the outside—God sees the heart. His love had changed her utterly, freed her from her past. But now He was gone. And with…

NOT KNOWN FOR MY ATHLETIC skills, I was surprised when my answer to a trivia question about my life included having hiked in Colorado, Arizona, Alaska, Wisconsin, as well as the Utah desert. The desert hike with my youngest sister took a lot out of me. Like hydration. All of it. And endurance I didn’t think I had. The heat beating down on us from above, the distance that had seemed manageable before we embarked, the constant watch for snakes and scorpions, and being a few years shy of well-trained for the hike contributed to the agony. I brushed off the question every time my sister asked, “Do you want to turn back?” No. I wanted to find the air-conditioned car. I wanted a tall glass of iced tea and…

I GREW UP IN THE country outside a small town in Tennessee. I never dreamed it was possible to pass someone face-to-face without making eye contact and offering at least a perfunctory greeting, which often led to a full-blown conversation. When I grew up and moved away, I learned that’s not the common practice everywhere. At first it shocked me to see someone turn their head away at the moment we passed each other, just when I had my friendliest smile and comment ready. It made the loneliness of moving to a new place cut even deeper. Maybe that’s why I love that Hagar called God “the One who sees me.” Many Bible scholars identify the angel of the Lord in this passage as Jesus. Even before He was born…

I OPENED THE GROCERY STORE’S freezer and saw the choicest array of sausages and franks. There were a variety of European sausages, but I particularly noticed those big, bulging orange-brown tubes labeled Hungarian Sausage. It’d been a while since our family had enjoyed Hungarian sausages for breakfast, but after looking at the price I realized they weren’t in our budget. Maybe next time, I sighed. Two days later, I saw my cousin, who excitedly told me about his new business. He’d shifted from fish processing and diversified into processing high-end meat products. I was delighted to learn that after months of struggling financially, business was picking up. As I turned to leave, he said, “Wait, I’ll give you some of our products.” He opened his freezer and took out a…

I WAS RAISED IN A denomination that discouraged visiting other churches, so finding a faith community when I became a Christian eighteen years ago was a quandary. But once I overcame my inhibitions, exploring different denominations became interesting. I even created a spreadsheet to keep track of the churches I’d attended. Some preachers were a little “fire and brimstone.” Others were scholarly. Others were pragmatic and almost therapeutic Bible teachers. Some focused on manifestations of the Holy Spirit, while others sternly warned against them. Some focused on Jesus’s love and our service to others. Some shared themes of prosperity, others sacrifice. My survey of churches was initially confusing, and I felt like I had to choose sides. Today, I listen to an array of Bible teachers, praying for discernment, and…

IF WE ARE LOOKING FOR reasons to be stressed in our home right now, we don’t have to look far. My husband lost his job and has been looking for work for several months. A close relative on my side of the family is using this crisis to exacerbate tensions with his side of the family. And our children are old enough to pick up on what is going on. We have been in this situation before, and this time around I can see clearly that all is not lost. Last time Tony was unemployed it seemed like it went on forever, but Jesus kept whispering to us, Keep following Me. In retrospect, I can now see that time of “unemployment” was in fact a crucial time in our very…

FOR THE PAST SEVERAL YEARS, one of my former students has been featured in a TV commercial promoting orthotic and prosthetic services. My first introduction to him was memorable for all the wrong reasons. As an elementary school librarian, I often read aloud to students while they sit on the floor. One day after the story-time reading was finished, all the other students stood up . . . except for him. He remained on the floor. Naturally I thought he was being defiant. I reprimanded him, telling him again to get up, but he just stared at me. Finally my assistant whispered to me, “He can’t get up because he is missing a leg.” I hadn’t seen him when he walked into the library. He was sitting on his other…

I AM PRIVILEGED TO WORK with Christian believers. On a trying day when I need a Scripture to settle me, I can depend on colleagues to give me a timely word. I can also depend on them for inspiring conversations. One day, the school secretary started a dialogue about miracles and wanted to know if I had witnessed one. I explained that no one I knew had “walked on water.” However, while I was teaching at my previous school, a miraculous thing did happen. The secretary raised her brow with heightened interest as I recalled an unforgettable time. Jean, a first-grade teacher in my building, had adopted three children and needed a van to replace her aged and sputtering compact car. As an unmarried woman with only one income, Jean…

I WAS AHEAD OF SCHEDULE for a writing deadline and had been working faithfully every weekday. Friday, I returned home from a doctor appointment exhausted. My body felt that feverish-flu sensation as if dozens of little elves were hitting me with tiny bats. The sensible choice would be to take a sick day and rest. Yet even as I considered that option, I told myself I needed to be diligent. Write every day. Push myself harder. When I stopped to pray about my choices, Jesus challenged me to look at my motivations. He reminded me of the Pharisee praying in the temple. Prayer is a good thing. Yet Jesus used the story as an example of wrong motivations. Writing faithfully was a good thing, but in my case, I hesitated…

I LEAD THE PRAISE TEAM at my church. We have a group text for sending practice schedules and stuff like that. Last Sunday, one of our members wrote, “I won’t make it to the service today. I just don’t feel like singing. I may not come back to church until I get a grip on my problems.” People responded: “Let me know if I can do anything to help.” “Praying for you.” “You will be missed.” All kind attempts at support in an awkward situation. I thought about it for a while and prayed. Being a private person, I feel weird in these situations. It’s like I’m embarrassed for the person because I would never share something like that in a group. As soon as I had that thought, I…

I WOKE UP EXCITED FOR a writers’ retreat I was hosting. Then I checked my emails. “Sorry, something came up.” “Can’t make it.” Several people canceled for valid reasons, but I still felt deflated. I prayed for Jesus to fix my attitude. The story of the wedding banquet came to mind. Jesus understood feeling disappointed when guests couldn’t or wouldn’t arrive. As I read His parable again, something even more remarkable stood out. He put Himself in the position of being rejected, ignored, or stood up. That’s how much He loves us. He was willing to suffer the pain of preparing salvation, even though some would turn away—all because He cares so much about having a relationship with us. I continued to pray for Jesus to fix my attitude, but…

I WAS EXCITED WHEN THE newspaper reported that a famous author would visit our city to give a lecture. I bought seven copies of her book and gifted them to a variety of friends and family members. My loved ones were delighted to receive the books, and they were more thrilled when I gifted each of them with a ticket to attend the writer’s lecture. I was so focused on purchasing books and tickets for others that I failed to buy a book for myself. Two days before the lecture, I was invited to speak with a local youth group. At the conclusion of the program, the leader of the group called me to the podium and presented me with a gold bag filled with gifts. I did not open…

I LOVE SPRING, BUT THERE are a few things that bother me. Pollen, for one, and another thing would be those pesky, buzzing, stinging insects called bees. On this pretty day, while attempting to complete this writing, I can see and hear those dreaded insects through my window. I wonder what I always wonder . . . why did God create bees? They always chase me back inside. I run and slam the door on them. Once I’m safe in the house, I remind myself again that bees have a purpose just like everything does on this earth. Bees pollinate fruits and vegetables, which provide nutrition for us. They also provide honey. Bees are an intricate part of the natural world and are needed . . . even though I…

I HAVE THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD AND TEN-YEAR-OLD boys. Pierce, my bright, witty, and athletic older one, is starting middle school and is showing signs of “tween-itude.” My nine-year-old Isaac, a joy and fun-filled fellow with Down syndrome, presents some unique challenges that are somewhat less predictable. I read parenting books, swap strategies with pals, and pray a lot. I mostly just do my best. Some days I feel like a pretty good mom—just the right balance of loving discipline, attention, and fun. Other days, I feel like a failure. I know this is normal. My particular challenge when it comes to parenting is control. I’ve struggled with this, but it can look pretty awful with my kids. I catch myself adopting a harsh, graceless tone. I hate it and apologize. I’ve found…

AS A CITY GIRL, I never learned about birdsong. But then, I spent a year volunteering in Alaska and got an education I’ll always treasure. On long walks in marshes surrounded by lush woodlands, one of the school teachers I worked with taught me how to recognize the calls of different birds. I slowly began to distinguish the different notes and rhythms that alerted me to the presence of pintails and plovers, ptarmigans and Pacific loons. The sounds of nature became a rich symphony to my ears. When I returned to New York City, I thought I wouldn’t use my new birding skill. But I was wrong. Now when I ride the crowded subway, I tune in with my listening skills, and I hear sounds reminiscent of birdsong! In what…

I GET LOST. A LOT. Even when I use my GPS, I often manage to take a wrong turn. My most recent adventure landed me on a dirt logging road blocked by a fallen tree, not quite sure where I went wrong. And as I listened to Madam GPS, her voice sounded the tiniest bit frustrated, as she said, “Recalculating.” There are times I get lost in my personal life as well. Last month, I failed to follow Jesus’s directions on loving others, and as a result, I almost allowed a friendship to die from lack of attention. Without meaning to, I’d hurt someone and disappointed the Lord. Like my driving blunders, it wasn’t something I’d set out to do. I’d just taken a wrong turn and wound up where…

WHEN MY HUSBAND SAYS, “LET’S eat out,” he usually means a place with plastic lids and straws for our beverages, ketchup in little plastic saucers, and brown paper napkins—made from recycled paper, a counterpoint to all the plastic. The first time I ate at a four-star restaurant, a waiter took my linen napkin—What? Napkins come in linen?—then laid it across my lap. When the first course was over, he removed all my silverware, all of it, and replaced it with a whole new set. If I dropped my napkin on the floor, the waiter was there with a fresh one before I could reach to pick it up. A finger bowl to clean my fingers. Sorbet to cleanse my palate. It was over-the-top service. But I felt . . .…

THIS PAST YEAR WE MOVED to Daly City, California. Bordering San Francisco, it sits thirty miles north of Redwood City, our home for the past thirteen years. Redwood City’s motto is “Climate Best by Government Test.” But Daly City does not pass the “climate best” test because of all the fog that settles in over the surrounding bay. The fog is dense, cold, and gray. I miss Redwood City’s warm, clear days. But the gray days of Daly City speak to my spiritual journey. So much of life . . . is fog. Mysterious. Uncertain. Nebulous. It can be difficult for us Christ followers to navigate. We never know what is coming next. The brightness of Jesus’s love has to cut through the gray. When we are lost in life’s…

I LOVE RECEIVING PHONE OR FaceTime calls from my kids. They catch me in the middle of writing articles, preparing messages for speaking events, and fixing meals, but that’s okay. The moment I hear their voice, I turn my focus from work to them because I cherish them and care about what’s happening in their lives. I receive calls from other people too, but they’re usually scheduled. My coaching clients, for instance, set up appointments in advance. The nature of our relationship doesn’t allow the freedom to call at their convenience just to chat. Holy Week lends itself to reflecting on Jesus’s death and resurrection and the difference both make in our lives. It’s now possible for us to become members of His family. When we accept that invitation, we…

I WAS EIGHT WHEN MY sister told me about heaven. “No one gets sick,” she said. “Everyone has food. No one fights or cries!” Images of happy, healthy people filled my mind. Nice place to go when I die, I thought. Decades later, heaven means infinitely more. As I reflect on Christ’s death and resurrection, I realize that I’d have no place in heaven apart from Him. I thank Him for giving me citizenship there (Philippians 3:20). Apart from what He’s done, I’d languish without hope. But because heaven is real, I know my heartaches will pass. Someday Jesus will wipe away my tears (Revelation 21:4). I’ll see clearly His purposes for my pain. Apart from what Jesus has done, the thought of aging and dying would be much more…

HOLY WEEK CLIMAXES WITH THE angels’ proclamation at Jesus’s empty tomb. His unexplainable absence affirmed His credibility and proved that He was who He said He was—the Son of God. He’d battled evil and won. Heaven threw a victory party that Sunday morning; Satan and his henchmen sulked in defeat. The resurrection validated a promise Jesus made: “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying. Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die” (John 11:25–26, NLT). Jesus emerged the victor; and we’re victors too. Not just over physical death someday, but over the enemy’s attempts to defeat us now. The enemy wants nothing more than to destroy us and seal us in an emotional, mental, or…

AS I SIT HERE WRITING, my son, Isaac, is singing the soundtrack from Frozen at the top of his lungs. He brings truly immeasurable and uniquely delivered love and joy to me, my family, and many others. Yet, when he was born with Down syndrome just after Easter ten years ago, I confess it was one of the darkest times of my life—an agonizing and humbling admission for a mom to make. Now I can say with complete honesty that Isaac is one of the greatest joys of my life, a precious and continuous gift. His guileless and generous affection, unprejudiced enjoyment of the littlest things, keen emotional intuition, and innocent yet profound faith are priceless blessings. Plus, he’s just plain fun. As I remember those early, dark moments of…

JUST AFTER JESUS’S TRIUMPH OVER death, Cleopas and another disciple traveled the road to Emmaus, discussing our Lord and His empty tomb. As they walked, Christ joined them, but they didn’t recognize Him. After reaching town, they invited Him to join their table, and He accepted. As Jesus gave thanks and broke the bread with them, their eyes were opened, and they saw Him for who He truly was. Jesus often chose mealtimes for sharing His wisdom, encouraging others to deepen their relationship with Him. I feel that way about having friends over. The table is a great place to take part in mindful conversation. We all need food and drink to survive, but our daily bread involves so much more than what we put in our stomach. The thoughts…

I NOTICED A THIN, YOUNG man sitting alone at a small table near the door of the fast-food restaurant. He appeared homeless and hungry. A backpack was on the floor beside him. Although the weather was freezing, he wore a thin jacket and sandals. His socks were dirty and had holes in them. “If he doesn’t buy something soon or bothers anyone, he’ll have to leave,” I overheard the manager say. I ordered my food and sat down. I can’t sit here and eat when I see someone who looks hungry. If not for your grace, God, that could be me. Please touch the manager’s heart so he lets the young man stay inside, I prayed. I went to the counter and bought a restaurant gift card. I discreetly laid…

I’D NEVER BEEN SO GLAD to receive test results! At last, the four-month-old mystery of unexplained severe itching was solved. Sometimes I woke up at night and found myself raking my nails across my body. The skin in some places became so inflamed that the shower water stung. In February, my family doctor ordered blood tests to rule out scary possibilities. He chalked it up to general allergies and recommended anti-itch ointments. They didn’t help. In April, a dermatologist did a biopsy, diagnosed contact dermatitis, and recommended a patch test. For days I wore large patches taped to my back, exposing the skin to thirty-six different substances. When the nurse peeled them off, a bright red square indicated the winner: #17, a synthetic preservative used widely in all types of…

I LOVE TO READ—FICTION, NONFICTION, magazines—anything with words. My husband has caught me reading the shampoo bottle when that’s all I have handy. But there are occasions I can’t bear the level of suspense in a story, the stress of not knowing how things will turn out. My stomach muscles tighten. I can’t concentrate, and I find myself reading the same passage over and over. Then, I sneak a peek at the book’s ending. It eases my anxiety. Likewise, when experiencing real-life tense situations, I long to see the future, that things will be fine. Not only is my wish impossible, but it reveals a lack of faith. Challenges to my health and finances, like the conflicts found in the plotline of a good novel, are a necessary part of…

THE PARKLAND, FLORIDA, SCHOOL SHOOTING—AND so many other tragedies in recent years—reminded me again that this world is unpredictably and unspeakably unsafe. The ripple effect is powerful and close to home. My own children’s Florida schools now have much more stringent security measures in place, including extensive staff training and armed-security details on campus. Fear of random violence has never topped my list, but this recent spate of terror has ramped it up. I’m more aware now when a real or imagined threat appears. With Jesus’s help, I’ve pushed through fear before. I marinate in Scripture. I dance and sing praise. I share my fear with trusted others. More often, “I feel the fear and do it anyway.” But sometimes I cower for a spell. Jesus is still with me.…

ONE MORNING, MY DAUGHTER TEXTED me a photo of my six-year-old grandson eating breakfast. Roman sat at the table drinking a mug of milk and wearing a gray T-shirt, a clip-on necktie, and a navy blazer. Does he have a job interview before school? I texted. Holly responded, No, he said he just wanted to dress up “for Monday.” What a contrast to the cartoons and memes that portray Monday as a horrible day. So when I shared the photo on social media, I added, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could all feel that enthusiastic about Mondays?” But wouldn’t it be great if we could feel that enthusiastic every day? Arising in anticipation of what Jesus has in store for us to see, do, and learn. Moving through the…

WHEN I HUGGED MY FRIEND Tanya goodbye after our spiritual catchup at a local café, I made my way home feeling lighter, smiling in the early June sunshine. What is it about connecting with a friend who is also listening to Jesus say, “Follow Me,” that makes the day brighter? When I rounded the corner where I live, my apartment building looked dramatically different than when I’d left it a couple of hours before. Workers were in the midst of putting up scaffolding for impending work on our brick facade. Rows and rows of metal beams framed the sidewalk, extending from where I stood all the way to my front door. They had yet to cover the crossbeams at the top with wooden planks. So in this not-yet-finished moment, the…

“YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, babe,” my husband said. “Unless I’m not paying attention.” It’s one of the reasons I call him Wonderhubby. He’s a wonder. Once again, humor defused what could have been an incendiary situation. Laughter is good marriage medicine. I’ve discovered an additional reason why the Bible urges us not to be “unequally yoked together with unbelievers” (2 Corinthians 6:14, KJV). The reason is that only a devoted follower of Jesus understands that the other person’s relationship with Him is a higher priority than the marriage, that the only One who will never fail, disappoint, neglect, and never “not pay attention” is Jesus. His faithful, unchanging nature is a rock-solid truth we can count on. When Jesus invited us by saying, “Follow Me,” He was also saying,…

I STEPPED OUTSIDE EARLY ONE morning after a rough night of severe storms. Lightning, rolling thunder, pounding rain, and high winds had kept me up most of the night. The morning news showed the destruction from the storms. As I surveyed our property, I could see that we’d been spared any real damage, but our lawn was littered with pine cones, small limbs, and other debris. I grumbled out loud as I started cleaning up the mess. “This is no way to start a Saturday morning! I have so much to do today!” But while picking up the debris, I saw a bird’s nest on the ground. Instantly I was aware of the sound of birds singing from the tree limbs above. I stopped and looked up to watch and…

I STOOD IN THE MOTEL shower, dripping wet and shivering. At first, the water ran steamy hot. But as I applied shampoo to my hair, a sense of foreboding came over me. Seconds later the stream cooled to lukewarm and the pressure reduced to a trickle. I raced to rinse off the suds. The next moment, an alternating medley of cold-to-tepid blasts of water splashed my body. I shrieked. Hurrying from the stall, I toweled dry. I was furious. Which felt worse? The freezing temperature because it shocked me? No. At least it invigorated me. The half-warm spurts annoyed me more, neither soothing my muscles nor jarring me into alertness. After dressing, I remembered Jesus’s response to the wealthy, complacent church at Laodicea. His anger raged against a lukewarm faith…

ONE MORNING IN MY LADIES’ small-group Bible study, we began talking about our obsession with making to-do lists. Two of my friends admitted that on more than one occasion they had written down a chore they had already done, just to get the satisfaction of crossing an item off the list. I laughed at that idea—until I remembered on the drive home that I had actually done it once or twice myself. Lists do come in handy, but if we concentrate too much on a to-do list, we can forget the importance of simply being. God calls us to be many things: joyful, thankful, kind, forgiving, and patient, just to name a few. But the most important “be” command is sprinkled throughout the Bible: be holy; in other words, be…

WHILE WAITING TO BOARD MY plane, I tapped the screen of my smartphone and Psalm 23 appeared. I’ve probably read this popular psalm a hundred times, but its pastoral imagery has never come so vividly to me as it did when I reached the Vayang Rolling Hills. These beautiful hills are located on the west side of Basco, Batanes, the northernmost island-province of the Philippines. The Vayang Rolling Hills are a vast series of low hills covered with green grass and hedgerows, as far as one’s eyes can see. And from where I stood, I saw cows dotting the landscape—a few were standing still on the slope, some were grazing, others were just lying down as the sun was setting. This was one of the reasons I came to this…

YESTERDAY I DISCOVERED A COLLEAGUE of mine had been given a position I felt I deserved. I heard it from a friend. Struggling to maintain composure, I regulated my voice to hide my emotions. After the shock wore off, I spent time alone, stoking fires of indignation and jealousy. Does Jesus love her more than me? Dark thoughts clouded my mind as I muffled the Holy Spirit’s urgings to pray. I was determined to stay angry. I dredged up other situations in which the Lord had seemed to reward others, leaving me in the background. Poor me! In the next moment I felt as if I’d been shaken from the inside out. I hung my head, suddenly aware of a fresh sin I thought I’d conquered long ago. Praying, I…

SOMETIMES MY KIDS CRACK ME up around the dinner table. Especially the little one. She’ll get way more food on her plate than she needs or could ever eat. (Unless it’s bacon; she can eat all the bacon!) I’m trying to teach her how to get the right amount and that she can get more if she needs it. She doesn’t have to worry that there won’t be enough for her. But I remember my kids all going through this stage. It seems natural, especially when you’re small, to worry you won’t get your portion. Some of us never grow out of it. I think many of our problems, between people as well as nations, come from this mind-set of scarcity. We think we have to grab everything we can…

MY HUSBAND FILLS OUT OUR tax forms each year with organized files of receipts and computer spreadsheets. I try to stay involved, but my head throbs on the first page: subparagraphs; special exclusions; rules, and more rules. According to some sources, the US tax code includes seventy thousand pages. And still people find loopholes. Rules have a way of multiplying and growing more burdensome. Their original purpose gets buried. The notion of everyone chipping in to help each other has been lost along the way. The Pharisees had over six hundred regulations and argued endlessly about them. The ceremonial laws became more burdensome and controlling. The notion of living every moment of the day in relationship with God was often lost along the way. The expert who questioned Jesus probably…

I COUNTED THE NUMBER OF children on the list again, and then recounted the number of Bibles, gifts, and stuffed animals. Easter was fast approaching, and we didn’t have enough items for the baskets. My husband and I direct a ministry, Baskets of Joy, that provides Easter baskets to children living in children’s homes, foster homes, and shelters. Each basket contains a Bible, a stuffed animal, candy, and several gifts, and is a tangible representation of Jesus’s love, so each child feels special and knows someone cares—most of all Jesus. Each year after Easter, we start preparing for the next year. We purchase Easter sale items and other clearance merchandise and donations start to flow in. But as I stood over the baskets one Easter season, I started to worry.…

WRITING IS MY CALLING. EVEN without compensation, I would write. My latest book explores the life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I wrote the first draft in 2005. Countless editors rejected it. Over ten years, I rewrote the manuscript no fewer than eight times. Each new revision was denied for publication. As an orator and Bible scholar, Dr. King said, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” I was tempted to quit on many days as my manuscript received mountain-high rejection notices. Isaiah’s words comforted me, “But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint” (Isaiah 40:31, KJV).…

AS A MOM TO EIGHT active kids, my daughter-in-law does laundry several times a week. She recently discovered a cleaning solution that treats stains more effectively than any other product she’d previously used. Grass, blackberry juice, spaghetti sauce, ink—you name it—no longer ruin her children’s clothes. She rubs a teeny bit of this gel-like cleanser into the fabric and presto! The stain’s gone. I marvel at the parallelism between physical stains and spiritual stains. Whereas soap removes stains from our clothing, so Jesus’s shed blood removes stains from our hearts and minds. What types of stains cover us? A common one is shame for either wrong things we’ve done or hurtful things that others have done to us. It leaves us feeling like we belong in the discard pile. The…

I CANNOT FATHOM THE PHYSICAL, mental, and emotional pain Jesus felt. His body crucified like the criminals hanging beside Him, His spirit crushed by the weight of the world’s sin, He cried to His Father, “Why have You forsaken me?” In His deepest, darkest hour of need, He felt abandoned by His Father. What agony could compare? Only once have I felt like God had removed Himself from me. A dear friend perceived something I’d said through the lens of her broken past and took offense. She cut me out of her life despite my repeated efforts to address the situation. I prayed, wept, and pleaded with God to restore our relationship, but nothing happened. “Where are You?” I cried one day. I heard only silence. Because Jesus suffered as…

THE RESURRECTION IS EVERYTHING, ISN’T it? It’s a metaphor for the whole Christian life. Without it, what’s dead is just dead. Over. Finished. Buried forever. No hope of new life springing forth. But in Jesus, we have the promise that death is not the final word in our stories, not only in an eternal sense but every day. In the accidents, the bad choices, the disappointments, the thousand other deaths that make up a lifetime. The worst death of this kind that I’ve ever suffered is the death of a relationship. It’s too painful now to even write the details. But someone I loved and trusted with all my heart broke that trust. And in turn, broke me. It’s as if I were crushed into particles of dust. It has…

MY FRIEND MARIE WAS IN a rehabilitation center while recuperating from a major surgery. “I can’t wait for you to meet my favorite nurse, Crystal,” she said. “You’ll love her. She’s such a good Christian lady.” When Crystal came into the room, I was immediately impressed by how friendly and caring she was. “Crystal came to check on me on her day off,” Marie said. Crystal smiled at me and said, “I was concerned about Marie, so I brought my daughters to visit.” Later I realized Crystal had driven over eighty miles to visit Marie. When I asked why she’d traveled so far, she answered, “Jesus put me here for a purpose. I want to spread His love to the people who need me. I could work closer to home,…

ONE DAY I SUGGESTED THAT my husband and I visit New York City to attend a Broadway play, but work prevented him from going. The idea of navigating the busy city without him was frightening. What was I to do? The play was getting rave reviews, with one month left on Broadway. Like King David, I encouraged myself. I put fear under my feet and purchased my plane ticket. When I arrived in New York, the hotel desk clerk upgraded my room from the seventh to the thirty-first floor. The play was excellent. But that night in the hush of my hotel room, thirty-one floors above the Hudson River, the twinkling skyline reflected in the glassy waters rendered me speechless. High above the city street, I imagined myself alone on…

MY NEPHEW HUNTER IS THREE years old. His mom plays a Kari Jobe worship album a lot, and he’s picked up on some of the songs. His favorite is called “I Am Not Alone.” It says a lot of other nice things, but the chorus repeats the truth of the above verse. Hunter likes to tell me to watch his show, which means he’s going to stand in the middle of the room, use his sister’s hot-pink Trolls microphone, and sing at the top of his lungs: “I am not awone! I am not awone! You will go for me! You will never weave me!” And then I clap. And then he does it again. And I clap again. We’ve been engaged in this scenario on a daily basis for…

TWO WEEKS AGO, MY FRIEND from church Brenda and I started walking. She graciously agreed to meet me at my favorite walking trail, which is lined with trees that provide shade. On the other side of the trail, there is a man-made lake that is lined with small trees and filled with families of duck and geese. When we get to the side of the trail where the lake is, Brenda always comments on the ducks. She coos at the ducklings and counts the ducks and their families. It is interesting to see her reaction when she sees the white ducks and the geese. Since I have been passing by these birds for several years, I don’t look at them in awe anymore. I’m too busy completing my miles so…

I’M NOT THE SAME PERSON I was in junior high. Good thing. I cared too much about the wrong things, not enough about what really mattered. I treated friendships too casually at times and held too tightly to them at others. I resented too much and was stingy with compassion. And . . . I would have been considered one of the “good girls.” Who of us would want to be our junior high self all our lives? Many of the changes I’ve experienced are directly linked to a still-growing devotion to follow Jesus. Not rules, man-made traditions, preconceived notions, or my mood at the moment. Jesus. I’m a follower of Jesus Christ. I’ve had to rethink what that means. Adhere to principles He laid out? Listen when He speaks…