Category Archives: Devotionals

As you begin reading this, I’d like for you to think of something you’re grateful for. Just a word or two, something that you’re grateful for. I’ll come back to that in a little bit.

Most of you know that I’m in the trenches of motherhood that many know can be very draining. Little people can be very demanding, very needy, very emotional, very irrational little people. Tiny tyrants attempting to rule the house with their miniature iron fists. As we battle for control each day, one of the things that I’m always drilling into my kids while they are still young is “Say thank you.” I want them to grow up not as entitled, spoiled, grown up tyrants, but as people who realize they are blessed every day.

Here is a lesson in saying thank you that really hit home with me.

My children go to two different schools, so every morning we have the hustle and bustle of getting everyone out the door on time. Some mornings you would think Mary Poppins is directing traffic in my house as everyone does everything they’re supposed to do, in a timely fashion, with a happy face. I almost catch myself whistling “A Spoonful of Sugar!”

But other days, my journey through the morning feels more like the highway to you know where! Everyone’s crying. Everyone’s yelling. No one can find their shoes, or their mittens, or their glasses. I’m more like a drill sergeant throwing children out the door and into van.

One particular day not too long ago, this was the tune of our morning. We were all yelling, crying, the kids were fighting, running late, of course. Not my favorite type of morning. And I hate to drop my kids off at school when everyone is mad at everyone! That’s the worst. So this particular morning, as everyone was bundled in the van, Sophie was crying and throwing a fit, Micah was complaining and whining, the baby was just making noise to be part of the chaos. And I thought, how do I flip this? How do I help these babies get through this yucky morning and have a good day?

Gratitude. That was the answer.

So I (loudly) asked everyone “What’s something you’re thankful for today?” I had to ask it more than once to be heard over the mayhem. But soon the answers started coming: a warm van to get to school, the beautiful snow, my friends at school, my mom, twinkle twinkle little star (from Hannie, of course). Soon we were on a roll, and everyone was feeling SO MUCH BETTER. We turned those thankful moments into our prayer time for the day before we dropped my son off to school.

Gratitude makes all the difference, doesn’t it?

One of my favorite Scriptures is I Thessalonians 5:16-18. It’s probably well known to many of you. It reads: “Rejoice always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

I have a background as an English teacher, so whenever I approach words, I do that with my English teacher brain on. Can’t do it any other way! But what I first notice about this Scripture is that it’s a command. It’s written in the indicative tense, which means the subject of the action is “you” understood. In other words, you could read “YOU rejoice” “YOU pray continually” “YOU give thanks in all circumstances.” The “you” isn’t written there, but it’s understood that the sentence is talking to you. It’s commanded of “you” to do this. It’s not a suggestion. It’s not a feeling. It’s a command.

The next aspect of this short Scripture that I notice is the adverbs. These are the words that describe the action of the sentence. We have “always” “continually” and “in all circumstances.” These words further show us that the action commanded is not something we do just when we feel like it, or when it’s convenient. These are things we should do all the time. Always. Continually. In all circumstances.

Yet on mornings like the one I described to you earlier, rejoicing and giving thanks were the furthest things from my kids’ minds. As an adult, it wasn’t all that difficult for me to draw them out of that little funk with a time of thanksgiving. It really did turn our whole morning around, mine included. But that’s just a difficult morning.

What about when the really hard days come? When you lose your job, or your spouse loses their job. When someone you love gets a difficult diagnosis. When your spouse leaves you. When a friend dies. When a child falls into addiction. When you lose everything. There are many moments in life that it is very, very difficult to give thanks.

I’ve had many moments like this in my life. Moments, seasons really, where is it very difficult to be grateful. Most of you probably know that my daughter Sophie has autism. Her journey has been filled with difficulty from literally the moment of her birth. At times, that’s something that’s been very hard to say thank you for. I remember one morning in particular not that long ago, I was feeling sorry for myself about her autism diagnosis, and I felt that gentle nudge to give thanks. So I began to try and think of things I was thankful for because of autism. It’s still a little hard for me to say, “thank you for autism.” But I’m working towards that. But still there were so many things that I found to be thankful for.

There have been so many people that we’ve been privileged to interact with because of her diagnosis. We’ve received the help and support of so many different teams of people. The beauty in her overcoming so many obstacles is incomparable. That would be absent if it weren’t for her struggles. Our church family has come around us in such an amazing way to love and support our daughter and our whole family. Again, blessings that would be absent if our need had not be present.

And then there’s those little things that make Sophie Sophie. When I’m cleaning and I find all of her hatchimals shoved into a tiny baby sock that she was using to cart them around. Just those little things that make her her. She wouldn’t have some of those endearing habits if it wasn’t for autism. And even though the diagnosis is difficult to accept and be thankful for, I wouldn’t change Sophie for the world. I love her completely, every bit of her, with my whole heart. Would I remove some of her obstacles? Yes, in a heartbeat. But I also know the same God who controls all things in this giant cosmos for his purpose sees Sophie and controls her life in his good hands too.

So let’s call to mind what you thought of earlier when I asked you to choose something you’re grateful for. If I had to guess, or if I’d been in your seat, I would have probably written, my family, my husband, my job, my church, something like that. I doubt very much I would have written “autism.”

And yet, this is something that God has allowed in to my life. And gratitude, I believe, is the key to finding peace in those situations. Because gratitude restores my perspective. Instead of seeing God through the lens of my circumstances, I can see my circumstances through the lens of his love. I can remember that I believe in a God who is both totally good and totally sovereign. There’s nothing that happens to me that he hasn’t allowed. And there’s nothing in his nature of doing that, that isn’t good and kind. I have chosen to believe that no matter what is happening around me, my God is always kind. And so even when the difficult moments come, I can say “thank you.” It doesn’t erase the grief or the pain or the anger or the fear immediately, but it does restore peace, the peace that passes understanding which is promised in Philippians 4:6-7, another passage that reminds us to pray, to give thanks, and to trust.

So as you think back on that thing you chose to be grateful for, I want challenge you to add a second thing to be grateful for. You won’t feel grateful for it, but you can choose to be. You can choose to be grateful in all things because this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. And I trust that as you choose to be grateful, the Holy Spirit will bring you peace, and your perspective of a good and loving God will be restored to guide you through the difficult road you may be walking.

I had a conversation with Sophie this week that started me thinking about what I’m thinking about. One of the issues that often accompanies autism is anxiety. Sophie struggles with anxiety in regard to a few specific things, such as loud noises,  safety drills at school, her daily routine, and candles — they are terrifying. Her anxiety causes her to fixate on these certain things, which manifests as continual questions about them.

“Mom, what do we do if there’s a tornado drill today?”
“Mom, what if there are candles in the school?”
“Mom, what if the kids get loud around me, what can I do?”
“Mom, what are we doing today?” times 100, especially when the answer is “Nothing” or “We don’t have plans” or “It’s a snow day today.”

Sophie enjoys routine, predictability, and perceived control. When she feels out of control or loses sight of the routine, she asks these questions over and over again. It can be very frustrating. She knows the answer to the question she’s asked, and the answer never changes. The answer also doesn’t alleviate the anxiety that she’s feeling.

Most of the time, I try to just change the subject or ask her to talk about something else. But this week I went at the issue head on with a little Jesus action. I said, “Sophie, why are you dwelling on things that cause you to feel anxious? The Bible says, ‘Set you mind on things above.’ That means you need to set your mind on better things. You shouldn’t be continually thinking about things that don’t help you feel good. You should be thinking about things that make you happy.”

I expected a zillion questions about this statement. But instead, she quickly shifted into topics that make her happy. “Like how my teacher left me the star student sign in our yard? That makes me happy.” Then we began spelling words together, which makes her SO happy.

Teaching our kids what the Bible says about how we should live, and think, is so important! I am continually reminding myself as a parent that my kids are born knowing NOTHING. Having a one and a half year old at home, this is very evident right now. I explain to her older siblings all the time, “Hannie didn’t know that the paper would rip if she did that” or “Hannie didn’t realize the toy would break if she threw it.” Kids don’t know. They just don’t. It’s my job to lead them by example and by teaching how God says we should live our lives. I think there was a lot of freedom for Sophie in that conversation. She realized that she doesn’t HAVE TO think about things that make her feel anxious. It’s much better for her if she thinks about things that are pleasant.

These moments when I’m trying to teach something simple to my children, the Holy Spirit always gives me the elbow and says, “Yeah, why DO YOU do that??” Because I struggle with negative thoughts too. I don’t always dwell in my fears and anxieties like Sophie, but there are many ways where I fail to “set my mind on things above.” Whether it’s dwelling in a grouchy mood or over-analyzing a relationship or problem, or simply complaining about my situation, I let my mind sit in a negative rut too. There are so many better places to dwell than in a problem. And we are not captives to our minds. We are not the victims of our thoughts who just have to sit there and take it while our minds run wild. We can take control of what we’re thinking about and do what Colossians says: “Set your minds on things above.” We can count our blessings. We can dwell on a God who loves us and who is working all things for our good. We can be intentional about seeing what’s going on that’s good.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

My children have this tendency that brings out the crazy eye really quickly in me. It’s called disobedience. I’m not talking the “I stole a treat from the pantry” kind of disobedience, or even the “I was mad at my brother so I threw a toy at him” disobedience. No, I’m talking about the kind of disobedience where I know that I know that I know that they heard me give a direction, but they just choose to do whatever they want anyways. It’s maddening.

This is especially true when we’re trying to leave to go somewhere, like to school, every morning. I do not want to say 12 times “Get your shoes on.”

Sometimes I ask my kids, “How many times do I need to ask you to do this?”

They always reply, “Just once.” Uh-huh. Sure.

I know that my experience is a common one, because we’ve all chuckled at the meme on Facebook where the mom loses her chill before anyone listens to her about their shoes. “Why is Mom so crazy?” they ask in wonderment.

I’m not sure why this is a struggle other than they’re kids and they’re too focused on other things, like the Paw Patrol Pups and Matchbox cars littered across my floor. They can’t see the big picture. They can’t read the clock. They don’t know that school starts in T-minus 10 minutes, and we live 7 minutes from the school. They don’t realize that I’m asking for all these small steps of obedience so that we can arrive at our destination as scheduled, to fulfill our intended purposes for the day.

What I want is best for all of us, but they often go kicking and screaming instead of with the ease of obedience.

Kicking and screaming. That’s probably a good description of my stance with the Lord sometimes.

Priscilla Shirer hit me between the eyes in her Bible study on hearing and obeying God: “God doesn’t speak to be heard. He speaks to be obeyed.” So often we want to hear what God is saying, but when he does speak up, we simply continue to focus on our own little world, arranging our own little “pups” just how we want them instead of following his directives. My heart cries for his voice, to hear him speak, but then when he does, I delay, I resist, sometimes I flat out ignore, because I’m too busy with my own plans and desires.

The situation is the same: God sees the big picture, and we don’t. He knows where we need to be and when we need to be there.

I was especially struck by this truth in recently reading the story of Philip in Acts. God tells him to get up and head down the desert road to the South. Immediately Philip does this. He happens upon the chariot of an important man from Ethiopia, and God directs him to remain near the chariot. Luke tells us that Philip ran to the chariot. He ran. He didn’t ponder if he ought to listen to those directions, he didn’t continue arranging his scrolls or adjusting his robes and sandals — he ran! And because he ran, he was near the chariot at exactly the right moment, when the Ethiopian was reading an important piece of Scripture. So Philip got to share with him the gospel of Jesus Christ. The man believed and was baptized. Because of Philip’s obedience, this man’s life was forever changed, and he took his new knowledge of Jesus back to his own country and people. All because Philip obeyed, immediately.

Proverbs 3:27 has been rolling through my head on repeat as I’ve pondered obedience: “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it when it is in your power to act.” There are so many times that I feel a nudge to do something for someone, to pray, to offer a word of encouragement, but unlike Philip, I don’t run towards the opportunity. I withdraw into myself and think “I couldn’t possibly do that.” But the words of this Proverb and the words of Priscilla have driven me onward into opportunities to obey. When we obey, we release our perceived notion of control, and we embrace God’s control, and that we are moving pieces in his grand design. We embrace the good works he prepared in advance for us to do (Eph 2:10). And who knows, maybe someone’s life will forever be changed because of our obedience, or maybe we’ll just make it to school on time for once.

I never get tired of the story of the fishes and the loaves. It is so full of truths, and every time it touches my heart. I revisited this story this week in preparing Sunday school material. And what jumped out at me was a reminder that I very much needed.

In case you’re not familiar with the story, Jesus is teaching a large crowd of people (around 20,000) in a remote place. Evidently it’s been a long day of teaching, and the people are getting hungry. The disciples want to send them on their way so that they can get to the neighboring towns and buy something to eat. But Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.”

Of course all the disciples can see is their lack: “This would take more than half a year’s wages!” they exclaim. We just don’t have enough.

Jesus simply tells them to go see what they have and report back with it to him. He then miraculously turns the five loaves of bread and two fishes into a feast for 20,000 people. The disciples even have to gather up the leftovers!

So what smacked me in the face this time? My own lack. That’s often all I can think about. I simply am not enough, do not have enough, cannot be enough.

This can hit us financially, when we literally don’t have enough to pay the bills. Or it can hit us emotionally, when our kids (our our spouse!) are taking such a toll on us that we’re not sure if anyone will be alive at sundown. Or it can hit us physically when we just don’t have the energy to do what needs to be done. There are so many ways that we find ourselves lacking.

We try so hard to be enough, to fool ourselves and everyone into thinking that we’re enough. But the truth is we’re always inadequate on our own. All we need to do is what the disciples did — bring what we have to Jesus. He will see that it is more than enough for the task he has set before us. Instead of focusing on where we lack, we need simply to see what we have. And in faith, we bring it to Jesus, trusting that he will make it enough.

Yesterday was Sunday. We went to church, and when the kids laid down for their nap, I contemplated all the things that I needed to do — put away laundry, tidy up the toy area, sweep floors, clean the bathroom, run to the store, and on and on. When you stay at home, you never leave work, and the job is never done. But you know what I did? I spent time talking with my husband, I read a book, and I took a nap. When my kids got up, I laid on the couch with them and relaxed.

It. Felt. Great.

Why? Sabbath. We were not designed to go, go, go nonstop. We need to stop and rest. It’s hard to do that when there are so many things clamoring for our time and attention in the warp speed of our culture. So many good things (better than cleaning!), too! I did nothing yesterday afternoon, but my soul was refreshed. I was recharged and ready to meet the new week.

We are actually commanded to stop and rest, but, as with all commands, we have to make the choice to do it. It’s easier to just keep going, but rest is good for the soul. So stop. Take a break. Read a book. Take a nap. Spend time with family. It’s not laziness, as some of us at home moms might feel. It’s commanded by God, and it’s good for your soul. So take a break. It’s really ok. When your soul is refreshed and rested, you’ll do a far better job being the person you’re trying to be through the week.

After a morning full of screaming and crying and fits (from the children), Andrew and I happily escaped for a day date today. It’s been quite some time since the two of us have gotten away together for any length of time at all. The morning was rough, and tension was very high. On top of that, we were faced with the weighty realization that we needed to purchase a new car, and we were headed out to do that after our lunch. Car buying is stressful. I was not in the best mood, but I was not going to miss this moment to be present with my love and enjoy our time together. So out we went.

We chose Chipotle, and I was quiet on the car ride — unusual for my chatty self. I suppose I was somewhat brooding over our morning, just giving clipped answers here and there as Andrew discussed our car situation. I carried this heavy mindset with me into the restaurant, to the long line of customers waiting for their burritos.

After we’d been in line for a few minutes, I realized that one of the cashiers was trying to get my attention from across the restaurant. When he finally caught my eye, he mouthed “smile!” to me and gestured with his hands. I gave him the desired smile and then commented to Andrew about how it annoys me when strangers instruct me to smile, as if condemning my “normal” face. I guess I’ve got one of those faces that looks maybe mad or unapproachable when my face is just at rest. Don’t judge me. I’m not mad. I’m just me.

We proceeded through the line and approached my smile coach at the cash register. I was ahead of Andrew, so I had a moment with the cashier while Andrew was still ordering the toppings for his burrito. He said, “You just looked so down when you came in. I just knew I had to get a smile out of you.”

I explained, “We just have a lot going on right now. There’s a lot on my mind.” I was intentionally vague, because there was just too much leftover from my tense morning on top of the weight of our finances to fill him in during our brief encounter.

His compassion was evident: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

By this time, Andrew had joined us and was prepared to pay for our order. As he held out his credit card, the cashier looked at me and said, “It’s taken care of. I hope your day gets better.”

My eyes filled with tears as I carried our food to the table and proceeded to the drink machine. A total stranger had just purchased my lunch, that I really couldn’t even afford to buy in the first place, while I’m on my way to buy a car that I can’t afford, fretting over my finances.

This is what I see: God can move anyone, at any time, to do anything, for any of his beloved children.

That small act of kindness today reminded me that God sees me. And it challenged me to consider how infrequently I turn my eyes to meet the pain of others in a tangible way. I’ll offer a kind word, a prayer, but how often to I act? The cashier’s actions gave weight to his words. He was sorry for our difficult day, and his compassion compelled him to act.

I need to go beyond words and into action.

Yesterday we sat playing tools. The kids were hammering away. I was enjoying watching their imaginations at play. Out of nowhere, whack! the hammer makes contact with my eye. “Ouch!” I hollered in real pain, “that hurt mommy!”

Micah’s lower lip pushed out and began to tremble. He buried his sad face in my side and refused to look up at me. I wasn’t angry. I knew he never intended to hurt me. He really wasn’t even aware that hammering my eye would hurt mommy. I explained to him that I wasn’t mad at him, but that it did hurt me when he hammered my eye. He finally looked at me with such deep sadness over what he had done, so choked with his own emotion that he couldn’t even say the words he knew he needed to say, “I’m sorry.”

We sat together a while, and I gave him lots of hugs and kisses. He told me he felt sad because he hurt me with the hammer. I reassured him again and again that it was ok. We all make mistakes.

It took him longer than usual to rebound from this incident than it did from others like it. He knew he had caused me pain, and he felt so sad about it. It kind of broke my heart to see him so hung up over a little hammer to the eye. He even insisted that we call Daddy on the phone, and when Andrew answered, Micah stated right away, “I’m sad because I hit mommy with the hammer.” We talked with Daddy about how it was time to let it go because he had already said he was sorry. He didn’t need to hold on to his sadness anymore.

After our phone call we began to play again, and I assumed the incident was finished. But, as I walked towards the door of Micah’s room last night in the dark, after stories, songs, and prayers, I heard from the crib, “Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“I’m sorry I hit you with the hammer and made you sad.”

“It’s ok buddy. You said you were sorry, and Mommy loves you very much. Mommy is not mad. Mommy doesn’t want you to feel sad anymore about that, ok? I love you very much.”

“I love you very much too, Mommy.”

Hours later he was still holding on to his sadness over how he had hurt me. This was true remorse, and it touched me to see my two-year-old son expressing such emotional depth.

At breakfast this morning, Micah gave me a sideways glance and said, “Mom, I’m sad.”

Of course I knew what was coming, but I asked anyways, “Why are you sad, buddy?”

“Because I hit you in the eye with the hammer.”

Oh my goodness. His little heart was still so sad! I reassured him that he was forgiven and that I loved him so much. I told him I didn’t want him to be sad anymore. It was time to let it go and move on. His sadness had inhibited his play the previous afternoon, and now it was carrying over into today. He didn’t want to eat because he was so sad about hurting mommy. Bless his tender heart — may it beat this way forever.

In this little interchange, I caught a glimpse of how our Father must feel towards us when we continually beat ourselves up over our failings. Yes, grief over our sins can be appropriate. Sometimes they are very destructive to ourselves and to others. However, what Jesus has done for us on the cross has removed the guilt of our sins. I can almost hear him asking, “Why are you still so sad over this? It’s done. Let’s move on!” Continual wallowing in our own guilt and unworthiness only hampers our enjoyment of life and our effectiveness in what God has for us to do.

In Nehemiah when the Israelites returned from exile, rebuilt their city wall, and gathered under the leadership of Ezra and Nehemiah, Ezra read the book of the law to the people. Their hearts were broken with grief over the ways they had displeased God and departed from his laws. They were mourning and weeping. But Nehemiah tells them repeatedly, “do not mourn or weep … Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Yes, they had made mistakes and strayed from God’s path, but that did not change God’s love for them and the joy he would exude over their return to him.

What I see in Micah’s story and in the passage from Nehemiah is the deep love of our Father. Yes, my heart was sad that Micah would hit me with a hammer, just as our sins sadden God’s heart. But deeper than that sadness over the incident was my desire for Micah to know he was loved so that he could move on. And this is true of our Father: Deeper than his sadness over our sin is his desire for us to know that we are so very loved. In this, we can move forward. Rather than standing in the weight of my own guilt, I want to stand in his love.