I was riding in the back of an Uber, traveling towards the airport for my flight home.  I'd never been to Maryland, so I was looking out the window, enjoying the sights.  The scenery was fascinating to me, and I enjoyed the views even when we weren't in the greatest of neighborhoods.  

We were driving along our route, nothing out of the ordinary, when something caught my eye.  Near the highway, someone had put a small shed-looking structure in their front yard.  It had the words "Prayer Stop" painted on the front, with two lawn chairs sitting in front of it.  I looked again at the two worn chairs, facing each other, sitting in front of what resembled a children's playhouse.

I smiled.  I couldn't help it.  Who would put a Prayer Stop next to a busy highway, in their front yard? I wondered why it was there.  I wondered if anyone had ever stopped at the Prayer Stop.  I wondered what happened when you stopped at the Prayer Stop.  There were two chairs, clearly set aside with purpose, to allow someone to pray with you.

I knew I was already late to the airport, and I figured my Uber driver would think I was completely crazy if I asked him to pull over.  So, as I watched the Prayer Stop fade into the distance, I wondered about the stories it held.  I bet God had used the Prayer Stop, and I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall to see his work.  

I came home, googled The Prayer Stop, and found the history behind this structure:

This tiny prayer stop was allegedly built by a man who's life was ruined by alcohol. Once he hit rock bottom, he felt that God had saved him. Showing how grateful he was, he decided to create a tiny prayer stop on the side of a busy street so any motorist could stop and pray.  "There's no condemnation in the Prayer Stop. I committed most every sin myself before the Lord delivered me, and now I know true joy."

Who would put a Prayer Stop in their front yard?  Someone radically transformed by Christ.  Someone with a grateful heart.  

I wonder if my heart is so obviously grateful.  

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.  1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

In the craziness, the busyness, of this life, do we live as if we truly know Jesus paid an enormous price so we could be set free?  No matter the depth of our sin, God is always finding ways to pull us back into relationship with Him.  He never gives up on us.  God's very nature is to heal, restore, and forgive, even when it requires the utmost sacrifice. 

The more we truly believe the truths in the Bible, the truths that actually set us free, the more grateful we will be in this world.  Remember, its not the voice you hear that determines the type of life you have, its the voice you believe.  Let us truly believe God's promises to us.  Let us truly understand He is our Savior today, tomorrow, and forevermore.  Let us be continually reminded that His purpose is to show up when we need Him most.

Then, let us be grateful.

I stepped out of the bathroom stall in the women's bathroom of the airport.  She had her stuff sprawled all over the counter.  Her hair straightener was plugged in and various components of her make-up were strewn across the counter.  Her hair was dyed bleach blonde, her face smeared with lipstick that wasn't applied quite right.  She wore a short miniskirt and when she looked at me, the hard life showed in the lines across her face.

I was returning from a week of working offsite.  Tired and hungry, I just wanted to get home, have dinner, and see my kids.  I hesitated to choose which sink to use to wash my hands, since her stuff was everywhere.  I stepped forward and turned on the water to the sink furthest from her. 

She stopped and looked at me.  "Excuse me," she said.  "Do you know how far...."

She trailed off, so I didn't answer her.  She tried again.  "Excuse me.  Do you live here?"

"No, I don't.  I'm sorry." I responded.  I reached around her charging cellphone to grab paper towels.  Our eyes met, and I looked straight into the face of addiction.  I wasn't positive, but it seemed as if her eyes filled with tears for a short second, before shaking her head and turning away.

"Well nevermind, then.  Thanks." she returned to applying her make-up in the mirror.

I opened my mouth to say something to her, but at that moment, my cellphone buzzed in my back pocket.  What time will you be home?.  I stepped out of the bathroom and texted my kids back.  I hurried over to baggage claim, looking for my bag that would surely be rotating on the carousel.  After waiting a while, I retrieved my bag and I began to follow the exit signs to leave the airport.

As I walked away, I looked over at the women's restroom.  I should have asked her if she was okay.  Pulling my roller bag behind me, I walked back to the women's restroom.  I looked around, but she was gone. There was no straightener, no cellphone, and no makeup on the counter.  

A cleaning lady looked up at me as she emptied the trash can. "Looking for something?"

"No," I answered.  "Thank you."

I left the airport, walked to my car and began the long drive home.  I wondered what would have happened if I had just been a little more kind.  Sure, I don't live in the city, but I could have helped her.  I thought about Jesus on the drive home.  I thought about how He was often seen with the most scandalous people, much to the disgust of the Pharisees.  I thought about how He would have treated the woman in the bathroom.  My mind recalled the parable in Luke Chapter 15:

1 Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. 2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

3 Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent

There's no question about how He would have treated the woman I encountered.  I can't help but to want a heart like His.  Jesus' passion is seen in the Bible when the lost are found (and aren't we all lost?) and He never loses sight of his passion.  He gives significance to the lost because of His love for them.  Even when bringing them back requires sacrifice, He is willing to stop at nothing to pursue every last one of his sheep.  If we need any further confirmation about his passion, we can simply read Luke 19:10:

"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

 Jesus didn't miss an opportunity to be kind, especially to the lost.  We should be so intently focused on God and his calling for our life, that when distractions come, we are not moved.  God calls us to kindness, self-control, a spirit of generosity, and a commitment to humble service.  Do we really want to be interrupted in the middle of our crazy schedules and meticulous plans to serve God?  Did I need to return a text instead of showing kindness to someone in front of me?

This world has so much brokenness.  In particular, the women of this world seem to have so much pain, and so often their cries are not heard by other women of faith.  They walk alone, going through the trails of life without someone walking beside them.  God calls us to notice the people around us, and we are to introduce hope into dark lives. We are to reach out to those around us, and light the way to the only One who can provide healing for life's trauma.

I  have a goal to stop allowing my daily responsibilities to get in the way of pursuing the calling that God puts on my heart.  Distractions should never drown out a calling.  Responsibilities, while important, should not replace Jesus' passion for my life.  

Joy and peace are found in pursuing His will for our lives anyway.  The one who missed out due to distractions in the airport restroom likely wasn't the woman battling addiction, with her makeup strewn all over the counter.  Its very possible the next woman entering the restroom helped her.

No, the person who missed out was the one who was busy answering the text on her phone and hurrying to the baggage claim. 

It was me. 

My children are adopted from an orphanage.  We live a blessed life here in America and we don't struggle with scarcity of food.  But, my kiddos knew what it was like to go hungry before they came home with us.

I remember the first time I gave them a banana, and I was so surprised by their squeals of delight.  They asked me several times to make sure.  Mama, can we have the whole thing?  In the orphanage, when they got a banana, it was sliced into tiny pieces and split between at least ten children.  They'd never eaten an entire banana by themselves.

One of the biggest struggles we had around food was with my son.  When he would eat, he would pack his cheeks full.  He looked like a little chipmunk every time he was finished eating.  He would stuff as much as he could into his cheeks, and he didn't care if it took him an hour to chew all of it.  He wanted to make sure he got to the food before everyone else did.  It took us years to stop him from stuffing his cheeks every time he ate.

When we live in a world of limited resources, it is difficult to image a Savior who has unlimited resources.  If someone at the table eats a lot of food, it means we might not have enough.  If someone else does well, we may not advance.  If someone is good, we cannot be as good.  

But, God is a God of unlimited means.  Our joy is deeply intertwined with fully understanding who Jesus is and what he's done for us, not what we can grasp for ourselves in this world.  Jesus has unlimited love and unlimited forgiveness.  He can provide everything we're looking for in abundance.  Sometimes I wonder why am I looking around, grasping for what I can get in this world, seeking empty flasks?  I have direct access to a flowing well in Jesus who provides everything I need.

Jesus did not grasp for the power of the world.  Instead, He emptied Himself.  He let go of his right - yes, it was His right - to exert His power.  In fact, when He was tempted with all of the fame, all of the wealth, and all of the glory of the world, do you know what He did?  

He chose you.

8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 9 “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”10 Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’[e]”11 Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him. (Matthew Ch. 4)

The world steps on others to elevate themselves.  But, we are called to imitate our Savior.  The highest of high became the lowest of low to elevate you.  Our salvation is by faith, by grace.  Thank goodness it isn't by works, because I'd be in so much trouble.  

Since God is so graceful, we can live as though we're a people marked by the gospel.  Jesus has unlimited resources, so we can live generously, love lavishly, and extend forgiveness to those who don't deserve it.  We can give these things to others without running empty.  But, to accomplish this, we need to stay close to God.  Our focus must be on keeping our hearts facing Him, and not allowing ourselves to be overshadowed by the world.

When loving is hard, when forgiveness doesn't come easy, just remember.  We find our joy by going low like Jesus.  That's how we become higher than we could ever dream.

Over the past week, I've found myself entering into some thoughts that are not serving me well right now.  I find myself thinking about ways to reconstruct my old life.  For whatever reason, I thought about some of the better times, before everything fell apart.  Then, I thought about how to manipulate my situation to reconstruct my old life.  Unfortunately, every scenario I entertained required taking my current situation into my own hands instead of trusting God and listening to his instruction.

I wanted to be well.  

I remember a few months after we'd separated, I begged God on the floor of my bedroom.  I want to be well.  Teach me.  Show me.  I can't live like this anymore.  

Months of pain, grief, anxiety, and fear were taking their toll.  The sleepless nights wouldn't let up.  The pain felt as fresh as the first day.  Nothing was getting better.  Nothing was helping.  Simply getting out of bed, showering, and eating were all I could accomplish.

Help me, I prayed over and over.  I'll do anything.

During this terrible time, I kept wondering how a normal, regular sinner like me could be transformed by Jesus Christ.  I needed victory in my life.  I needed strength beyond me.   While some of the events leading up to my divorce were beyond my control, some of my pain was also self-inflicted.  Being well meant that I had to pursue change. Change was what I desperately wanted, but how on earth could it happen?  

These were the right questions for me to be asking, even though I didn't realize it at the time.    God was using this experience, painful as it was, to grow me.  He was calling me to leave my old ways behind and explore what a deeper relationship with Him really looked like.  

If you are in this situation, first and foremost let me tell you the good news about bad seasons is they always end.  Your situation will do whatever it can to shame you into thinking you're too weak to move forward.  This is not true, and it is not the will of God.  He has plans for your life.  He wants to use you, not for who you used to be, but for who you are becoming.  If you allow Christ to use this situation to change you, it will open the doors to a whole new world.

If you will grant me the privilege to speak a few words over your future, I'd like to share a few things I'm believing for you (and me!):

You are called.  There's no question about it.  Just as the apostles were called to leave everything to follow Jesus, you are also called away from your old life (your old ways) into a new life with Him.  God is using this situation to call you into something new.  Plan B isn't meant to end your life.  Its meant to reroute it into something new with Him.  Now is the time for a fresh start!  Wouldn't it be tragic if you moved from one bad situation to another, never learning from God?  Don't fight Plan B, instead trust God with it.  Turn it into a training ground for the future, allowing it to change you for the better.  

You are convinced.  Jesus is who He says He is.  He loves you.  He died and on the third day He was resurrected.  It really happened.  The more you are convinced of His love for you, the more the Holy Spirit will make your faith bolder and bolder.  Every time you worship God, something happens to break the power of evil.  Every time you become consciously aware of God's love for you, you become a bit more secure.  Watch for God's love for you.  Look for the little things.  You'll be blown away by how He shows up in your life.  Remember, you are on the right path.  Listen more to God and less to your doubts.  

You are committed.  The disciples (except one) were committed.  They were all-in, and they didn't turn back.  This was an incredible, generous generation who took God at His word and took the gospel to the ends of the earth.  You're committed, too.  You're going to take God at His word and stop believing the lies the devil is telling you.  You're going to believe you are blessed.  You're going to be brave and do what God has called you to do.  When you decided to follow God, you began to view yourself differently.  You are not your job, your income, your relationship, or your house.  Don't believe for a second you're behind everyone else.  Your path is just different.  Today marks a new road for you, committed to following God's will.

Remember, God is a God of promises.  In today's world, no one keeps their word.  But, we have God's stability to lean on, not our own.  As long as you stay on the path God is leading you down, you will be blessed.  

Follow your road, even if its Plan B.

I didn't want to do another post on unforgiveness.  

I continued to look for inspiration around something else.  But, every topic I've come across this week is around forgiving others.  My e-mail has coincidentally populated with Christian messages about forgiveness.  My YouTube subscriptions are updating with lessons on forgiveness (Part 1 and Part 2, no less) as I quickly scroll past, not wanting to face it yet again.    

No, I'd rather have some sort of enlightenment on a new topic.  Maybe, I told myself, it will come to me in my sleep.  Last night as I slept peacefully, I did actually have a dream.  

I dreamed about my eyebrows.

Being a redhead, I've never had any color whatsoever in my blonde eyebrows.  But, in my dream, I had distinct eyebrows.  I looked in the mirror and I had defined, colored, perfectly manicured eyebrows.  They were colored a little dark for my hair color, but in fact, they existed.  It was fascinating. 

I made faces in the mirror during my dream.  I lifted them for a surprised look.  I lowered them for an angry look.  I had so many new emotions I could convey with my newfound eyebrows!  In my dream, I picked up a make-up wipe and tried to remove the eyebrows.  But, they were permanent.  I had permanently perfect eyebrows!  I inspected them from all angles before my dream suddenly ended.

As I woke this morning, I laid in bed for a while, telling myself it was absurd to actually think I had different eyebrows.  But, I couldn't stand it, and after a few minutes I hopped out of bed to check on my eyebrows.  Just as I suspected, they were the same shade of white as the night before.  

I looked to the ceiling. 

"Funny."

The eyebrow dream really doesn't have much to do with anything, except to illustrate when you're ignoring God's lessons and you then ask for a spiritual dream, you might get a dream about eyebrows.  I'm not sure if that's true for everyone, or just me.  

So, let's talk unforgiveness.

It has come upon me this week with a vengeance.  It seems unfair that I'm still dealing with this, since I did a good job of forgiving last week and I earned my gold star.  I am starting to sound very much like Peter, asking the Lord how many times I have to forgive.  This is a difficult phase post-divorce, and it seems like every day I am finding yet another reason to be angry.  

But, I must remind myself I'm not after a gold star, I'm after freedom.  I want to move forward.  I don't want to live in the past, allowing anger to fester into bitterness.  I refuse to allow my mind to remain in this state, continually producing toxic emotions that will drag me further down the pit.  
I made a list to refocus myself this week.  Perhaps this is helpful to you, too:

Unforgiveness causes tremendous stress.  Did you know when there is an excess of stress molecules flowing through the body, the first target is the circulatory system?  Your heart literally feels the emotion causing the stress (Dr. Caroline Leaf).  Forgive.  Don't let somebody else's bad behavior ruin your life and your health.  It will literally give you heartache.

My son and I are training to get in shape by running together.  I'm not sure why we made this commitment in the coldest weeks of winter, but we've not always been known for our logic.  We don't own a treadmill, so the only option is to run outside.  After a particularly freezing run this week, I asked him how he was doing as we made our way into the house.

"I feel great." Funny how endorphins can make a person forget they're hypothermic. "Mom, you know something?  There's Christian lessons in running," he added.  

"How so?" I asked.

"When we ran up the hill, I had to just push through even though I felt like I couldn't make it.  Its like...you gotta push through your problems even when you feel like you can't make it."

"I agree with you," I said.  "In fact, when you feel the worst, you're usually near the top of the hill."

"I know!" he responded.

His observation is biblically accurate.  Many times in the Bible, the tougher the resistance, the closer the breakthrough.  Breakthrough victories as a Christian don't come without hard work.  Defeat of the enemy always come with a battle, but we are closer to the top of the hill than we think.  Even when the battle seems overwhelming, God reminds us to never lose hope because we are not meant to fight alone:

15 Jahaziel said, “King Jehoshaphat, listen! All you who live in Judah and Jerusalem, listen! The Lord says to you, ‘Do not be afraid. Do not lose hope because of this huge army. The battle is not yours. It is God’s. 16 Tomorrow march down against them. They will be climbing up by the Pass of Ziz. You will find them at the end of the valley in the Desert of Jeruel. 17 You will not have to fight this battle. Take your positions. Stand firm. You will see how the Lord will save you. Judah and Jerusalem, do not be afraid. Do not lose hope. Go out and face them tomorrow. The Lord will be with you.’ ”

(Side note: This is a cute depiction of the story of Jehosaphat in 2 Chronicles.  No matter how old I get, I still love Bible cartoons!)

So often, just like in the story of Jehosaphat, our enemy self destructs before any real damage is done to us.  When this happens, you can be sure that God has stepped into the ring.  In fact, our battles tend to be in the mind, battling fear of what could happen.  Fear is the devil's playground, and fear is often the resistance we fight before the breakthrough.  I once read a quote that said "courage is fear that's said its prayers".  Even though we feel fear, we can still be courageous and stand our ground while we wait for our victory.

If the majority of our battles are around fear, and fear is in the mind, the good news is we can control our minds.  Even if we don't realize it, we have the power within us to have victory over fear.  God would not command us to "not be afraid" and to "not lose hope" if we didn't have the ability.  He instructs us to push through our feelings of fear, and instead face our enemies, while allowing Him to fight the battle.  As it turns out, facing our enemies is what leads us to the top of the hill, and often the trip to the top is easier than we think.  

The hard part is the decision to move forward in the face of fear, even when we feel terrified, and stare down the enemy.  Once we've made that decision, the battle becomes God's.  All we have to do is show up.

When I view past problems in light of God's promises, I see how He was in the ring, fighting my battles all along.  Of all the problems I've feared, not a single one has destroyed me.  Yes, I've been through hard times.  I've been through a house fire, losing everything I own.  I've been through a divorce.  I've been through my son being diagnosed with cancer.  I nearly lost my daughter to an illness several years ago.  But against all odds, I'm still standing. In fact, fear itself was far worse than any terrible event that's occurred in my life.  I bet when you look back on your life, you can say the same.  

God is so faithful.

One of my biggest defenses against fear is to change my focus.  I often can't battle fear by simply telling myself to calm down, or working to convince myself that everything will be okay.  Fear never takes into account the presence of God.  Instead of fighting fear on its terms, I change my focus.  The Bible says fear can't stand in presence of perfect love.  Perfect love is Jesus.  Instead of fighting a battle meant to be His, I change my strategy.  I remind myself of His faithfulness through all of my other problems.  I focus on what He's done, not on what I'm facing.  If He's faithful once, He's going to be faithful again. I add Jesus into the equation, and all of a sudden, those dark fears scatter in the presence of Jesus.  They don't stand a chance.  

The more difficult fear becomes, the more I am determined my goal is to allow it to drive me into the arms of God.  I know if I allow my problems to draw me closer to God, the enemy is defeated.  Instead of trusting God less, I will trust Him more.  Instead of stepping out on my own, I will lean into Him.  Instead of sinning my way out of fear, I will stand firm until God has defeated my situation.  The devil won't win this battle for my mind.  I am determined.

We have the ability to face our enemy.  We don't have to live in the darkness of anxiety and fear, tormented by our thoughts.  We don't have to cower to our feelings.  We don't have to live under the what-ifs that never come to fruition.  Jesus didn't die for our life to be dark.  Instead, He invites us to see when He's fighting our battles, there's nothing to fear.

Tomorrow, my son and I will lace up our running shoes again.  We will run up the same hill that was so difficult yesterday.  We will face that evil, evil hill that threatens to destroy us and make our calves scream for mercy.  

But, you know what?  This time I'm less afraid.  I know its possible to have victory, and without fear, all of a sudden that hill doesn't seem so daunting. 

Matthew 11:11 "Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist”

Those are Jesus' words about John the Baptist.  If we had the opportunity to have those words written on our tombstone, I think we could consider our life well-lived.  He's worth studying for no other reason than Matthew 11:11.

But John the Baptist was a bit of a quirky guy.  He lived in the wilderness.  He wore clothing made of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist.  He ate locusts and wild honey (yuck).  He's not exactly the guy who would be accepted at the local country club, not that he would care.  He knew who he was, and he knew his purpose.

John 3:30 "He must increase, but I must decrease."

John the Baptist was referring to Christ in this verse.  In fact, the ministry John had worked so hard to create had to decrease at the time of Christ.  It was never meant to be a ministry to follow John, instead it was a ministry meant to pave the way for the Messiah.  His followers had to become Christ followers once the Messiah appeared.  So, we can understand why John knowingly said "He must increase, but I must decrease." 

He wasn't the Messiah.  

The only way for Christ to become greater was for John to become less.  Everything he was, and everything he possessed was designed to make Christ increase.  But, John didn't view this as a loss.  He understood this was gain.

Today, the world places value on accomplishments, money, fast cars, easy relationships, and social status.  Living a simple life doesn't earn any accolades.  Why would anyone intentionally choose to decrease when the name of the game is who makes the most money or has the most rewards on the shelf?

I was at an estate sale a few years ago.  An elderly man had passed away, but in his basement, there were boxes of golf trophies he'd earned throughout his lifetime.  Several boxes sat on the floor, full of differing trophies.  No one wanted them, since they were engraved with his name.  At the end of the day, even after marking the box down to a dollar, they remained on the floor.  They were going to be hauled off to the trash, or perhaps Goodwill.

You know, one day, all of our trophies are going to end up in the trash.  

The only thing that lasts is Christ, and John the Baptist knew it.  Even though he didn't live to see the crucifixion and resurrection, John knew his place and his purpose.  He must increase, but I must decrease. 

I wonder what would happen if we started to live as though everything we are, and everything we possess, is to make Christ increase.  We aren't the end game.  In fact, life is not about us, the next thing we buy, or the next position we have.  What if we really understood the only way Christ will become greater is if we become less?  

We have to step down from the throne of our own lives in order for God to get on the throne.  But, Christ in his rightful place, changes everything.  

• Christ in his rightful place means he rules our lives, instead of "self" ruling our lives.
• Christ in his rightful place means we are led by joy instead of fear.
• Christ in his rightful place means we will worship God instead of things.

Indeed, the increase of Christ is not loss.

It is great gain.

I had an evening this week where I was particularly grouchy.  Usually, when I am grumpy, I tend to isolate myself and I refuse to interact.  I guess somehow in my mind, that's better than lashing out at those unfortunate souls who live with me.  I felt bad about my evening of self-imposed isolation, so the next day, I had to send out an apology text to my kids.

But, it made me wonder.  Why is it so easy to be nice when we're at work, or at church, but sometimes it is so difficult when we're at home trying to make dinner?  I thought about the question for a while, then while driving down the road, I decided to ask God if He would weigh in with His opinion.

You know, when you ask God for His opinion, He usually gives it to you.  Immediately, one word came to the forefront of my mind.

Unforgiveness.

I sighed.  Lessons on forgiveness are so difficult for me.  God has already been talking to me about the need to forgive so I can move on from my divorce.  Now, here's the same darn topic again, showing up in a different area of my life.

Am I really grouchy at home because of unforgiveness? I asked myself.  I didn't ask God to weigh in this time, because I figured I wouldn't like the answer.  

God asks us to forgive, because He knows the toxicity of holding onto anger, bitterness, and revenge is crippling for a Christian.  It gives the devil an opening into our minds, and when he's given an opening, he'll turn our minds into his playground.  No matter which way we approach it, there's no true peace for a Christian who is living with unforgiveness.

It is easy to say, but so difficult to put into practice.  There's something inside of us that feels like forgiving and letting go means we lose.  But forgiveness is what keeps us from living in the past, in a pit of debilitating emotions threatening to overtake us based on the trigger of the day.  Forgiveness is freedom.

As I pondered my situation, I realized unforgiveness over my divorce has really crept up on me over the past few weeks.  Years of memories have their way of storming my mind, reminding me of how I've been wronged (it rarely reminds me of how I've wronged). Things said, things done, and hurtful memories have been popping into my mind at random times, and instead of letting those things go, I've been holding on them.  I've been thinking about how things should have gone, and that cycle of thinking means more memories pop up more often.

So, Christ reminds me.

Forgiveness puts an end to this cycle.  

Matthew 18: 21-22 Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

Sometimes Peter is so relatable.  This is a question I probably would have asked.  "Lord, how many times are you going to expect this of me?  It seems like seven should be the limit."  Then God answers, "seventy-seven times".  I can just hear Peter's response.  "Seventy-seven times!  Are you serious?"

God was telling Peter forgiveness has to be a lifestyle.  It can't be a decision we make once and then revert back to life as before.  That same hurt will pop up the next day as a memory, and the next day.  In fact, every day, those we love the most also have the opportunity to hurt us the most.  We're all humans, and those closest to us will hurt us whether they intend to or not.  If we're not careful, even small everyday offenses will build up in our minds, and unforgiveness will rear its ugly head over even the smallest, most inconsequential things.

Forgiveness doesn't mean we don't set boundaries.  It doesn't mean we put ourselves out there to be hurt by someone who is abusive,  But, it means we let go of needing to even the score, of wanting to take revenge that belongs to Christ.  In fact, forgiveness is more about letting go than hanging on.  

God wants us to forgive because He doesn't want anything coming between us and God.  He doesn't want us hanging onto things that are going to lead us down a road of destruction, following the next sinful thing that will make us feel better.  No, God wants us to be healed.  It is out of His love for us that he sets forgiveness as an example, not out of any need for suffering on our part.

So, I will try again.  I will continue to work on making forgiveness a lifestyle, not a moment.

In this, I will find freedom.

Like much of the rest of the world, I find myself following the news day after day. I read an article before work. I check the headlines during lunch. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night wondering what's happening in Ukraine, and before I know it, I'm reaching for my phone to check the news once again.

Wars have a way of doing that. They remind us how fragile life really is.

As I watched reports from Ukraine, my heart ached. I found myself praying again and again that God would bring peace and spare as many lives as possible. Every image of families fleeing their homes, every story of loss, every uncertainty about what might happen next seemed to add another layer of heaviness.

Our church spent time praying for Ukraine. We helped provide resources to evacuate several pastors serving there. I was grateful we could do something, yet it still felt so small compared to the overwhelming need.

Perhaps the conflict felt especially personal because my children are from Russia, and I've spent time there myself. Places that once held memories of adoption trips and familiar streets were suddenly filling the evening news. It all felt strangely surreal.

One evening, I finally turned off the television.

I stepped onto the back deck and watched the sun slowly disappear beneath the horizon. The evening was perfectly still. The birds continued singing as though nothing in the world had changed. The air was calm, and the sky was painted with soft shades of orange and pink.

The contrast was impossible to ignore.

I realized again how much I take for granted.

As followers of Christ, it's right that we pray for peace. It's right that we care deeply when people suffer. God is not indifferent to human pain, and neither should we be.  But while we pray, we also remember none of this has taken God by surprise.

Jesus told His disciples,

"You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places." — Matthew 24:6–7

Those words aren't meant to make us indifferent. They're meant to steady us.  When the headlines seem overwhelming, Christ remains on His throne.  When nations rage, He is still King.  When tomorrow feels uncertain, He already knows the end from the beginning.

As I watched the courage of the Ukrainian people, I was struck by their determination to stand together through unimaginable hardship. Their resilience became a reminder that fear does not always have the final word.

As Christians, we have an even greater reason to stand firm.  Our confidence isn't found in military strength, political leaders, or tomorrow's headlines. It rests in the One who has already overcome the world.

One day, Christ will return.

He will put an end to war.

He will wipe away every tear.

He will make all things new.

Until that day comes, we continue to pray. We continue to love our neighbors. We continue to help where we can. Even when the world feels uncertain, we refuse to let fear become our foundation.

No matter what is happening across the globe, Christ is still on the throne.

History Has Never Unfolded Outside the Hands of God

When I watch the evening news, it is easy to feel as though the world is spinning out of control. Wars erupt, nations rise against one another, and leaders make decisions that affect millions of lives. We watch the headlines unfold in real time, often with very little understanding of what will happen next. From our limited perspective, the events of the world can seem chaotic and unpredictable.

Perhaps that is because we are only seeing one page of the story, while God sees every page.

From the beginning of Scripture, we discover a God who has never once been surprised by the events of history. Kingdoms have risen and fallen. Empires have come and gone. Wars have been fought, nations have been conquered, and entire generations have lived through circumstances they never could have anticipated. Yet through every victory, defeat, tragedy, and triumph, God has continued accomplishing His purposes.

One of the clearest examples of this is found in the story of Joseph. If we had been watching Joseph’s life as it happened, we might have concluded that everything had gone terribly wrong. He was betrayed by his own brothers and sold into slavery. After faithfully serving in Potiphar’s house, he was falsely accused and thrown into prison. Even after helping someone who could have spoken on his behalf, Joseph was forgotten and left there for years.

Nothing about Joseph’s circumstances suggested that God was working. In fact, it would have been easy to assume that God had abandoned him altogether. Joseph could not see what was happening beyond the walls of the prison. He did not know that a famine was coming, that his family would one day need food, or that God was preparing him to stand in a position of influence before Pharaoh.

God had not abandoned Joseph. He was positioning him.

Every hardship became another step toward the place where God intended to use him. The betrayal, the slavery, the false accusation, and even the years in prison were not powerful enough to prevent God from fulfilling His purpose. What appeared to be a collection of unrelated tragedies was actually part of a much larger story that Joseph could not yet see.

Years later, Joseph stood before the brothers who had betrayed him and said, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives” --Genesis 50:20

I love that verse because it does not minimize what Joseph’s brothers did. Their intentions were sinful, and the pain they caused was real. Yet their choices were never powerful enough to overthrow the purposes of God. God took what others intended for destruction and worked through it to preserve an entire family and save countless lives during a famine.

That does not mean God delights in war, suffering, or evil. Scripture reveals a God who is compassionate, just, and deeply aware of human pain. It does mean, however, that evil will never have the final word. Human choices may cause terrible suffering, but they cannot remove God from His throne or bring His plans to an end.

The same God who was at work in Joseph’s prison cell is still at work today. We may not understand what He is doing, and we may not be able to see beyond the events unfolding in front of us. The headlines may appear frightening, and the future may seem uncertain, but none of it has taken God by surprise.

History has never unfolded outside of the hands of God.

We Know How the Story Ends

As we journey through this world, we will inevitably live through moments that shake us. Every generation has them. I can still remember watching the Twin Towers fall on September 11 and feeling a deep sense of uncertainty about what lay ahead. It seemed as though the world had changed overnight.

Today, many people feel that same uncertainty as they watch the war in Ukraine unfold.

We don't know how this war will end. We don't know what tomorrow's headlines will bring, how other nations will respond, or what the months and years ahead will look like. From our perspective, there are so many unanswered questions.

But there is one ending we do know.

As followers of Christ, our greatest hope has never rested in knowing what tomorrow's headlines will say or anticipating the next move on the world stage. Our hope rests in the ending that God has already revealed.

One day, Christ is going to return.

He is going to make all things new. He will wipe away every tear. Death will finally be defeated. War will come to an end forever, and the brokenness that has marked this world since the fall will be no more.

That doesn't mean we ignore what is happening today. We continue to pray for peace. We grieve with those who grieve. We care deeply about those who are suffering, and we seek to help however God gives us the opportunity.

But today's chapter is not the final chapter.

Knowing how the story ends changes the way we live today. It allows us to face uncertainty without being consumed by fear. It gives us the courage to pray instead of panic, to trust instead of despair, and to fix our eyes on Christ instead of the ever-changing headlines.

The world may not know what tomorrow holds.

But our God does.

And because of that, we can live with hope.

There are seasons in life that require courage simply because they ask us to begin again.  Not necessarily begin something new, simply to begin again.  

I hadn't gone for a run in over two years. At one point in my life, running had been a regular part of who I was. I had even completed a full marathon. It wasn't something I forced myself to do, it was something I genuinely loved. Running gave me space to think, to pray, and to hear from God in a way that seemed different from any other part of my day.

Then everything in my life seemed to fall apart.  Divorce will do that to you.  Heartbreak. Stress. Grief. Exhaustion. One difficult season after another slowly drained the joy out of things that had once brought life to my soul.

The strange thing about sadness is that it doesn't just rob you of happiness. Given enough time, it begins to rob you of your identity. You start believing that the person you used to be is gone forever.

The truth is, I really wasn't that out of shape. My body wasn't what kept me from running.

My mind did.

Somewhere along the way I had convinced myself that running belonged to another chapter of my life. Those were the "good old days," and perhaps they weren't meant to come back. Every time the thought of going for a run crossed my mind, another thought was quick to answer it.

You'll never do that again.  You've already checked that box once in your life.

But there was another voice I kept hearing.

Not an audible voice, but that familiar, gentle prompting from the Holy Spirit that wouldn't leave me alone.

"It's time."

God had been nudging me toward running again for quite a while. The more I ignored Him, the more persistent that quiet invitation became. I couldn't really explain why it mattered so much, except that every time I had faithfully exercised in the past, I found myself drawing closer to Him.  There are conversations I have with God while I'm walking or running that don't seem to happen anywhere else.

Something about being outside, moving one step at a time, strips away the noise. My prayers become more honest. My thoughts become clearer. My heart becomes more attentive to His voice.

I don't pretend to understand why God meets me there, but I do know this: if something consistently draws me closer to Him, it probably doesn't belong in my past.

The problem was that my flesh wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as my spirit.

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to do the very things that you know are good for you? The things that nourish your soul are often the very things your flesh fights the hardest. There were a hundred excuses I could have made, and every one of them sounded reasonable.

But sometimes obedience begins long before the first step.

Sometimes it begins by simply lacing up your shoes.

So that day I stood staring at my sneakers far longer than I should have. Finally, I picked them up, tied the laces, found my headphones, and decided that if I wasn't brave enough to go alone, I knew someone who would be thrilled to join me.

Our Husky, Zeus.

Zeus has never lacked enthusiasm.  Common sense, perhaps. Enthusiasm, never.

The moment he saw the leash, he exploded with excitement, bouncing around the house as though he had just won the lottery. I smiled, clipped the leash onto his collar, stopped worrying about how I looked, stepped onto the front porch, and took a deep breath.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. The usually busy highway near our house was almost empty.

Perfect.

What I had forgotten was that Zeus had never actually learned how to run with someone. During those difficult years, he had missed out on that training just as much as I had. Every time I started jogging, he darted toward the ditch, cut across in front of me, or nearly tangled himself around my legs. I couldn't go more than a few seconds without stopping to untangle the leash or keep from tripping over my overly enthusiastic running partner.

Before long, I found myself growing frustrated.  This was nothing like the peaceful run I had imagined.

Then a thought crossed my mind that immediately changed my perspective.  I was expecting Zeus to know how to do something he had never been taught.  Wasn't I doing the exact same thing to myself?

I hadn't run in over two years. Why did I expect everything to feel natural again? Why did I expect myself to pick up exactly where I had left off?

Learning something again takes patience.  Growing takes consistency.  Beginning again requires grace.  Maybe that was part of what God was trying to teach me all along.

So often, when He calls us into something new, or back to something we've neglected, we expect ourselves to be immediately successful. But God isn't asking us to have everything figured out. He's simply asking us to trust Him enough to take the next step.

Perhaps that's what faith looks like more often than we realize.  Not arriving.  Just showing up.  Again and again.  

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it'. -  Isaiah 30:21

Follow The Leader

After several frustrating attempts to settle into a rhythm, I decided to give it one more try. I waited for my running app to signal the next interval, took a deep breath, and eased into a slow jog. For a few brief seconds everything felt promising. Then, just as he had done all afternoon, Zeus lunged toward the ditch with all the enthusiasm of a Husky who had suddenly discovered something infinitely more exciting than staying on the road.  In this case, it was a grasshopper.

Instinctively, I gave his leash a firm tug to bring him back beside me. Normally he would bounce right back as though nothing had happened, but this time he didn't move at all. He simply collapsed onto the pavement. At first I thought he was being stubborn. I called his name, gave the leash another gentle pull, and realized I was dragging the dead weight of very determined Husky. Zeus had apparently decided the run was over.

I looked down at him, wondering what had gotten into him. Then I glanced over my shoulder.

There, steadily making her way toward us, was a large Rottweiler.

My heart sank.

She was beautiful, but she was also muscular, powerful, and completely loose. Every alarming scenario raced through my mind at once. I instinctively stepped between her and Zeus, hoping my presence alone would somehow convince her to keep walking. Zeus, however, had reached an entirely different conclusion. Whatever courage he had shown while dragging me through ditches had suddenly vanished. He flattened himself against the road in complete submission, refusing to move so much as an inch.

Well, almost complete submission.  For reasons known only to him, he decided that baring his teeth would somehow improve the situation.

To this day I have no idea what was going through his mind. It was the canine equivalent of challenging a heavyweight boxer to a fight after losing the ability to stand up. Had she wanted to, she could have made very short work of my overly confident Husky. Thankfully, she simply continued watching us with quiet curiosity while I repeatedly told Zeus that this was a very bad plan.

Just then, a pickup truck slowed beside us. The driver rolled down his window and asked, "Do you need some help?"

"Yes, please," I answered without hesitation.

"It looks like you're about to have a dog fight."

He climbed out of his truck, calmly encouraged the Rottweiler back across the road, waited until she had wandered a safe distance away, wished us luck, and drove on. I breathed a sigh of relief, convinced the excitement was finally over.

It wasn't.

We had barely resumed our walk when I heard soft footsteps behind us again. I turned to see the same Rottweiler quietly following us down the road. Zeus immediately returned to his previous strategy by laying flat on the pavement, and this time no amount of encouragement could persuade him to stand.

"Come on, buddy," I pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to coax him forward. "We have to go."

He wasn't interested.

With Zeus firmly planted on the road and the Rottweiler continuing her slow approach, I realized I had little choice but to see what she wanted. This time, however, I noticed something I hadn't seen before. Her ears were laid back, her tail was low, and there wasn't a hint of aggression in her posture. If anything, she looked every bit as uncertain about us as we were about her.

Very slowly I extended my hand.

She stepped forward with cautious curiosity, sniffed my fingers for a moment, and then gently rested her head against my hand as though we had known each other for years. I smiled and began rubbing behind her ears, and within seconds the intimidating dog I had been so worried about melted into an affectionate, oversized teddy bear. So much for the fierce Rottweiler. She simply wanted someone to scratch her ears.

After a few moments she wandered over to Zeus and politely sniffed him from head to tail. Satisfied that he posed no threat whatsoever, she turned away without another thought. Zeus, meanwhile, finally seemed to realize that she wasn't interested in eating him after all. His body relaxed, his ears perked up, and for the first time since she had appeared, he cautiously stood to his feet.

Then something happened that I did not expect.

Without any prompting from me, the Rottweiler simply turned around and began walking down the road in front of us as though she had somewhere important to be. I tightened my grip on Zeus's leash and slowly started following behind her, leaving plenty of distance.

The transformation in Zeus was immediate.

The dog who had spent the last mile weaving from one side of the road to the other suddenly walked in a perfectly straight line. He stopped diving into ditches. He stopped cutting across my path. He stopped pulling against the leash altogether. His attention had shifted completely. Every ounce of his focus was fixed on the dog walking ahead of him.

Once we had walked a while and I had quite a bit of distance from her, I decided to try a slow running interval.

The Rottweiler sensed we were speeding up behind her, so she broke into an easy jog.

Zeus matched her pace perfectly.

For the next two miles, my completely untrained Husky became the easiest running partner I had ever had. I settled into the peaceful rhythm I had been hoping for all afternoon, smiling to myself at how wonderfully ridiculous the whole scene was. After all the frustration, all the stopping and starting, and all the worrying about whether I could even enjoy running again, the solution God had provided was something I never would have imagined.

Apparently, all Zeus had needed was someone to follow.

Leading Us Home

The run that I had dreaded for days had become one of the most peaceful runs I could remember.

As we turned left into our driveway, the Rottweiler followed us for a few more steps before cautiously wandering a short distance into the front yard. I knelt down and called to her, hoping she might come a little closer. I wanted to give her a bowl of water and perhaps help her find her family. It seemed like the least I could do after she had unknowingly rescued my afternoon.

She looked at me for a moment, quietly wagged her tail, and then turned around. Without hesitation, she headed back toward the path we had just traveled, disappearing in the same direction she had first come from.

I watched until she was out of sight. I'm sure she was simply heading home.

As for me, I think God was leading me back to mine.

Not back to a house, but back to myself.  Back to the woman He had created me to be before grief, exhaustion, and sadness had convinced me that those days were over.

It struck me later that evening how much Zeus and I had in common.

For the first part of our run, he had been distracted by everything around him. One moment he was chasing a scent in the ditch. The next he was cutting across my path. He was expending an incredible amount of energy but making very little progress. Yet the moment he had something worthwhile to follow, everything changed. His path became straight, his pace became steady, and what had once been chaotic suddenly became peaceful.

Isn't that often true of us?

When our attention is scattered, we spend so much of our lives chasing one thing after another. We pursue success, comfort, security, approval, entertainment, or whatever happens to capture our attention in the moment. We exhaust ourselves running in every direction except the one God is calling us to walk.

Hebrews gives us a similar picture:

"Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith." (Hebrews 12:1–2)

God knows exactly what His children need, and sometimes His provision arrives in ways we never would have imagined. That afternoon, His answer happened to have four legs and a wagging tail.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

I had spent weeks worrying about whether I could run again, while God had already been preparing everything I needed. The obstacle I thought would keep me from moving forward wasn't really the obstacle at all. Before I ever stepped out the front door, He already knew there would be a peaceful road, a quiet Sunday afternoon, an overly enthusiastic Husky, and even a stray dog waiting just around the bend.

That's the beautiful thing about following God.  He is never surprised by the road ahead because He has already walked it.  My depression had convinced me that I would never become the person I used to be again.

God had a different plan.

Step by step, mile by mile, He was leading me home.

Our Heavenly Father delights in meeting us in the ordinary moments of life. Sometimes His guidance comes through Scripture. Sometimes through another person. Sometimes through a quiet prompting of the Holy Spirit.

And sometimes...

it comes in the form of an unexpected companion on a country road, reminding us that our Shepherd has never stopped leading us home.