Category Archives: Devotionals

For me, there’s something terrifying about the thought of losing control. We call these folks control freaks, and I’m one of them. I’ve learned to let go of the little things that I can’t control that don’t really matter. Actually, I’ve fought to let go of those things. But there are other things that shake me to the core when I realize how out of my control they are — the future of my children, my beloved spouse, and most recently, my health.

Watching my wold wobble and tilt out of my control has been quite an object lesson for me. I note that not once did I actually fall as my world rocked like a ship. Not once. Ringing true in my shifting world this past month are the words of Hebrews 10:23 “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.” He who promised is faithful. And “to him who is able to keep you from falling” while speaking symbolically, was literally true for me this past month  (Jude 1:24). Even as I chased runaway children, I did not fall down. I saw that even though I felt like the world was totally out of my control, but my God was never unable to control my world, even as I spun. Because he who promised is faithful. There are many difficult realities that remain outside of my control. For me, most of them center on those I love most (two of them pictured below) and what the future holds for them.

But today as I was worshiping, praying for those I love, I heard God’s gentle reminder:

It is good to relinquish those you love to me, because I can do far more with them than you can ever do through all your efforts. It is good to relinquish yourself to me because I can do far more with you than you can ever do with yourself.

Simply put, I thought someone else might need to hear this reminder today. I know I’m not the only control freak out there anxiously trying to do as much as I possibly can to lead my children to Christ. And that’s not wrong of me to do, but, God can do far more with my children if I open my hands and give them to him. It’s not wrong for me to do my best with my talents and abilities, but God will do far more with me if I just give myself to him. Even when my world is literally spinning out of my control, it is never outside of his control. There’s freedom in letting go, losing control, to give it to the One who ultimately controls it all in his goodness.

My children are the worst at getting ready. Be it outside, or to church, or to school, or to the car for an errand, they are not interested in getting ready. Sophie is sometimes so eager just to be where we’re going that she has a meltdown when we tell her to get ready. And let’s be clear — getting ready is just putting shoes on, most of the time — nothing to melt down over. But she’s so eager to be “there” that anything which stands between her and there is just overwhelming. “You mean I have to find my shoes?! Uhhhh! How can I ever do that?!!” Like it’s so hard it’s impossible. But unless we’re ready, we can’t go to our destination.

This summer we made a ritual of going for a morning walk. Something about the fresh air and change of scenery revived us all from our morning grumpies. So we would get our shoes on and get ready to go get in the stroller. Inevitably, I would forget something — keys, water, phone, shades, trip to the potty, something — after the children were “ready.” So I’d tell them just to hang on for just a second while I did whatever it was, and that I’d be right back to get them for our walk. Micah would remain, shoes on, standing at the door, awaiting my return. But Sophie. Oh Sophie. This week, I came back from a trip to the potty before our walk and found that she had discarded her shoes and jacket and was laying, face down on the floor, crying … wait for it … because she wanted to go for a walk. I literally had just told her, “Wait while mommy goes potty and then when I come back down we will go for our walk.” Why was it so hard for her to wait for 90 seconds? Why did she get un-ready while she waited?

I can only guess what might have been going through Sophie’s mind in those moments when I was upstairs. But in her, I saw a version of myself. I’m waiting, too, and I’ve been promised, “I’ll be right back for you.” I, too, have a destination awaiting me. But I’m so quick to be “un-ready” just like Sophie. I don’t live my life in the expectancy that Jesus is returning for me or may call me home at any time or wants to do a new work in my life. I’m settled here like this is my permanent crappy spot to be. I’ve taken up residence with my face in the rug, crying about my not being at my desired destination. Oh, the trials of this world. Yes, they stink. If you know anything about my story, you know that I’ve seen trials. Right now, I’m on day 22 of dizziness. Some days are ok, and some days, like today, are just bad. There have been trials in my childhood, my adolescence, and my adult life. There are always trials in life, and they are trying, and they are hard. But, I can’t let those trials I experience while I’m waiting take my eyes off of what’s coming — like new callings in Christ, growth as a person, or even my ultimate heavenly destination. Because if I can keep my eyes fixed on those goals, then everything here is so much more bearable.

I have to imagine that if Sophie really believed her walk was coming, she would have stayed ready. But she didn’t. She knew that I had gone upstairs, and she assumed, even though I told her otherwise, that the walk was not going to happen right now. She didn’t want to wait, not even for 90 seconds. But sometimes we have to wait. And we have to stay ready. We’ve been promised a heavenly destination. We’re waiting right now. And we need to use this time as best we can to serve Jesus.

Since dealing with intense dizziness for 15 days now, I have also dealt quite a bit with the lie of failure. There are so many ways that I have fallen short since falling ill. My heart breaks when I can’t ride the swings or the sea-saw with my three year old who doesn’t understand why mommy can’t play. Worse still is when I yell at my children, because my voice is the only recourse I have to protect them. This all came into crystal clarity this morning as Micah ran away from me on the way to the car to take Sophie to school. He bolted directly for the street, of course. I had no choice but to give chance because I could hear a car coming. I ran, the car slowed, and fortunately, Micah stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, just long enough for me to cover the distance and catch him. He laughed the whole way, infuriatingly, and the driver of the car was, fortunately, paying attention and gracious. Frustrated tears filled my eyes as I once again felt the intense weight of failure as a mom.

Right now, my identity is pretty much wrapped up in being a mom to my two kids, so if I fail as a mom, I fail altogether. It’s complete failure for me as a person. We all fail in various areas of our lives, and depending on how much we identify as that role, we will take the failure very hard and very personally. As mommies, we tend to be pretty hard on ourselves — feeling guilty for taking an hour to ourselves, leaving our kiddos in the care of another, or for doing housework while our kids play in the other room, or for finally losing our minds completely and yelling at our kids. We feel like we’re failing them, falling short of being who we think we need to be for them to be raised to be ideal adults, healthy and not dysfunctional. The expectations are high.

But today, God reminded me of something that he spoke to Matt Chandler in the Bible study we’re doing with our small group: “Aren’t you giving yourself a little bit too much credit?” How freeing were those words! How quickly we forget that God is truly in control. To realize that even if I fall short, even if Micah gets away from me and runs toward the street, God is not out of control. He can alert the driver to slow; he can stop my son, even if I am physically unable to move fast enough. More so, He can mold my kids’ hearts to be healthy and functional even if I’m too ill to ride the swings or I lose my temper and yell when I shouldn’t because I don’t feel good.

You see, I’m realizing that failure is a lie. Sin is a reality.  But failure, that label, is a lie. We all fall into sin every single day, but that does not exclude us from being a success in God’s eyes if our hearts are turned towards him and we are moving his direction. Yes, how my kids turn out can be a reflection of how I did as a parent. But it can also be the result of their own choices. I’m not letting myself off the hook entirely; I know I’ve got to find a way to cope with our new reality, to still give my kids all the love and nurturing that they need physically, spiritually, and emotionally. But it was so good to have a reminder today that we have a God of peace who is always in control even when our lives feel like they are spinning out of control. When we can barely steer our own emotional cart, let alone direct the development of two small children, he’s there. He’s in control. Do yourself a favor, and don’t give yourself too much credit today. Trust that God is directing the bigger picture, no matter how messy your corner of the painting looks right now.

I don’t think I know anyone who really gets excited about leftovers. When I was a kid, we always had the leftovers buffet for Sunday lunch. My mom didn’t have to work to prepare a nice meal, and we weren’t wasteful because we set aside an opportunity to use the leftovers. My mom always ate what needed to be eaten up. Maybe it was the oldest, or maybe there was just a little dab left. She didn’t want to let those remnants go to waste. Now that I’m the mom of the house, I find myself eating up all the little bits of this and that which are left over, creating some very interesting meal combinations. But, I don’t want to be wasteful, so I do it.

John 6 records a story of “leftovers.” Here Jesus miraculously feeds over 5,000 people from five small loaves of bread and two fish. It didn’t look like much, but Jesus thanked his Father for it, and began to work a miracle. What if we could just give thanks for the small portion we have been given — whatever it is — and trust God to do a miracle with it?

The story tells us that everyone ate “as much as he wanted.” That’s just awesome. Guys, Jesus has enough. Whatever we stand in need of, he’s got enough. No matter how few fish we have in our basket to offer him, he’s got the power and the compassion to use it. It will be enough.  Some days I feel horribly inadequate. But if I take the small amount of ability that I have and give it to Jesus, he will do more with it than I could imagine. Jesus isn’t going to run short on whatever I may need. From our talents and abilities, to our weaknesses, to our physical abilities or inabilities, to our resources or lack thereof — Jesus can use it if we give it to him. And miraculously, I believe, we will find, it is enough. Because he is enough.

As a matter of fact, there wasn’t just enough that day, there was more than enough. There was so much food that day that Jesus gave his disciples these instructions: “Gather the pieces that are leftover. Let nothing be wasted.”

Let nothing be wasted. I love those words. Especially as I ponder God’s choice of apraxia for my daughter, for our family, those words bring me such peace.

Jesus wastes nothing.

There is no part of my difficult journey, of Sophie’s difficult journey, that Jesus will not use to make me a better version of myself and to bring more glory to his name. Jesus wastes nothing. What he has chosen for her life, he will never waste on her behalf. I’m looking for basketfulls of his amazing glory in her life story.

There’s also another way to look at this story of leftovers. Perhaps trodden upon, mashed, mangled from life’s hardships, sometimes we ourselves don’t feel like much but a leftover. But Jesus says, “let nothing be wasted.” My heart hears: “let no one be wasted.” No matter how mangled, torn, or used up we may feel physically, spiritually, or emotionally, in Jesus’ eyes, we are not beyond use. We are worth gathering up. We are still useful, usable, in his eyes.

As a child without words, Sophie is often overlooked by others. Few people, especially peers, truly understand how to interact with her. Yet I know that my Jesus sees her. To Jesus, she is not a leftover, to be passed over because she can’t enter in the same way as others. No one is beyond his use, no matter the disability, the dysfunction, the damage.

Jesus wastes no one.

The leftovers aren’t a chore to Jesus like they sometimes can be to me as I eat a strange concoction of fried cabbage, noodles and olives, and half a sloppy joe. Jesus won’t waste our experiences and he certainly won’t waste us.

So often life has felt, to me, like a lengthy exercise in treading water. Treading water is tiring. It’s about surviving, keeping your head above the water. You’re not trying to go anywhere when you’re treading; you’re just trying to maintain your position. Sometimes that’s how I feel like I’m moving through life, just keeping my head above the waters. When I was a working mommy this was oh-so much more true. Now juggling two busy kiddos, one with special needs, the pace is slower, different, but I still feel everyday the need to persevere, often tired from treading water.

As I was studying the story in which Peter walks on water, I had some realizations about the way we do this life, this “treading exercise,” if you will.

Jesus has sent his disciples ahead of him, perhaps knowingly into stormy waters. We are foolish if we think that Jesus has not foreseen the storm we are in. He is fully aware of where we are, even before we got there. And in this instance for the disciples, Jesus is not physically present with them to save their bacon like he was a few chapters ago when he told the wind and waves, “Quiet. Be still.” They are sent out on their own, to be buffeted about by the waves. And it’s terrifying to them. Our storms are terrifying aren’t they? Why did Jesus send us here? Where is he in the midst of this crazy wind, these wild waves?

But Jesus comes. Oh yes, he comes, because he sees exactly where we are. Exactly. And he’s walking on top of that water. If you’ve seen a stormy sea, you know it’s not the sparkling, pristine, calm, flat sea that is often in illustrations of this story. No, the wind, Scripture says, was wild. But Jesus is walking on that water. Of course, he’s Jesus. He can do that.

But then Jesus tells Peter, in the midst of the stormy winds, “come out of that boat and walk on the water to me.”

“Woah, Jesus! Do what? I couldn’t even safely swim through this water, let alone walk on top of it!” Oh, no, wait, Peter doesn’t say that. He gets out of the boat. A brave soul. That’s what I want to say when Jesus calls me into the storm…

Maybe, like me, you sometimes feel like you are nearly drowning in the storms of your life. Maybe your trial is so difficult, your sorrow is so deep, your anger is so severe that you can barely keep yourself going. Walking on the water seems beyond unattainable. Treading is just all you can muster.

I want you to think with me about what Jesus asks of Peter here. He tells him to get on out of that boat and walk on the water, on top of it. Jesus doesn’t say, you can swim through this. He doesn’t say, just tread water till I get there. He doesn’t say, just keep your nose above the surface. He says walk on that water, Peter. Whatever your storm may be, Jesus can empower you in the midst of it. Life, these storms, it’s not about just treading water, just maintaining, being safe, staying alive, surviving. No, it’s about finding the power of Jesus to walk on top of that storm.

I want to do more than tread water. I want to stare straight at Jesus and walk on top of that water, stormy sea or not. Because I trust him. And I know he’s there with me in that storm. I’m done treading; I’m ready to walk.

I find it very interesting that as we meet Mary the mother of Jesus in each of the gospels, the writers explain that Mary found favor in God’s eyes which is why she was chosen to be the mother of Jesus, God’s son. But when I think about the difficulties that Mary’s life surely contained because of her chosen role, I wonder if favor maybe doesn’t look just like what I have always thought it looked like.

When I think of favor, I think of something good, happy, successful, the desirable outcome, pleasant feelings, being liked or admired. I’m sure that Mary did experience many of those things. Even just from the perspective of a mother, I’m sure she did because of the joy of motherhood. There’s my idea of favor in her story to be sure.

But there are some other things that don’t seem to fit this idea of favor. For instance, the whole “conceived of the Holy Spirit” part of the story — this was surely rejected by some in Mary’s community as an excuse for improper conduct. Mary’s reputation must have suffered because of this “favor” that God bestowed upon her. In addition, she had to watch her own son be killed brutally at the young age of 33. I’m losing sight of the “favor” here. (Yes, I know there was a resurrection. But as she watched her son die, she didn’t know that for certain.)

I guess what I’m realizing is that when you find favor in God’s eyes, he chooses you for a special task, not an easy task, not a task that is always pleasant, but one that has eternal significance, one that is very dear to his heart. Maybe the path of favor does include pain and suffering. But maybe that’s an indicator of just how much favor you have in God’s eyes.

Many people (bless them) remind me often that God has chosen me and my husband specifically to be Sophie’s parents. My pastor likes to say, “special child, special parents.” Yet, I’ve often grieved the road that we have set before us, when the stress and frustration are through the roof, when the disappointment and the fear are real, when the questions are large and the progress is at a standstill. Oh, to be “normal” to have a “favorable” time with our young children. But maybe this difficult road is a sign of God’s favor. I’ve certainly never thought it was a sign of punishment; I know my Bible better than that. I have often viewed this as an opportunity for God to show his glory. But I’ve never looked at it as a sign of his favor.

Yet when I was reading about Mary finding favor in God’s eyes, knowing all the suffering that she walked through as the mother of Jesus, it was as if God whispered to my heart that he has found favor with me. I don’t share this to be boastful. I share it to encourage you. God has chosen you for the path set before you because of his favor for you. Favor doesn’t always mean success or happiness or ease as defined by this world. But it does mean that you and I are chosen. We caught God’s eye, and he decided, I’m going to use this one. Yes, she can do great things for my kingdom. There is eternal significance here in what I have for her to do.

It can be hard to see our significance from our vantage point here on earth. It’s like trying to see a movie on the big screen from the front row, looking through a straw. We catch glimpses of what’s going on, but the bigger picture can be hard to understand. I’m sure Mary must have felt that way at times in her life. Likewise, I can’t see yet how my story, how Sophie’s story, amounts to God’s favor or what he is going to accomplish in our family for his kingdom. But, even so, I choose the same response as Mary, whose eternal significance is now so evident, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”