Category Archives: fighting fear

hard or easy: choosing humility & love over feelings & factions

Posted on by January 29, 2026

From his booster seat in the back, Kav asked, “Why are hard things actually good things?”

A light flashed in my mind, and I reminded myself that this kid just turned seven.

“What do you mean?”

“Because when you want to do a bad thing it’s easy…but good stuff is harder.”

“Huh. Like what?” I asked.

“I’ve got one,” Finn said. “It’s easy to punch someone when you really want to, but hard to resist.”

“Ohhh, self control. Yeah.”

“It’s easy to tell a lie, but harder to tell the truth–” Kav began.

“Because you want the easy way out,” Finn added.

“–and also, it’s easier to hit someone’s foot when you’re not very good at pogo sticking because you can’t really control the pogo stick very well yet,” Kav finished.

Right, all true. Good chat.

hard or easy: choosing humility and love over feelings and factions | Shannon Guerra @ Copperlight Wood

A major part of parenting is our constant effort to train our kids to choose right over wrong. The hard over the easy. The truth over the lie. Self control over lashing out. To choose to give someone space and get good at the pogo stick without smashing your brother’s foot.

This training doesn’t really end; it’s just that eventually we have to discipline ourselves to choose the hard over the easy. This is how maturity happens. Or, you know, it doesn’t.

Refusing the hard keeps us stuck. Staying still is easy, but moving forward – learning, growing, repenting, maturing, reconciling, forgiving, surrendering – those are hard.

And then there’s standing, which can mean a couple different things.

Are we standing down? Shrinking back? Or are we standing up, standing firm, standing for truth?

Standing is only a move forward if we’re doing it where the Lord has told us, in the way He’s told us, in what He’s actually said. Standing firm in our feelings, in bad teachings, in misplaced loyalties or in idolized traditions, will get us nowhere. That kind of standing is only staying stuck in stubborn pride.

Sometimes we tell ourselves we’re making a hard stand when we’re actually living in compromise. Because if someone’s hard stand in an area means they get to be a jerk, they’re not standing for anything; they’re making excuses for poor character.

We have to be savvy to the elements used to blind, delude, and divide us. In times of emotional uproar (and 2026 is looking pretty parallel to 2020 in this respect), if we find ourselves running quick to arguing, fault-finding, nitpicking, engaging in gossipy backroom chats, or holding offense against those we disagree with, it’s time to take a step back.

If you find yourself making knee-jerk reactions (and it takes humility to recognize it), detach for a minute. Ask Holy Spirit how He sees this, and what He wants you to see. There are a lot of things happening and we cannot afford to let the enemy direct our attention.

Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these.

I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

– Galatians 5:19-21

If we’re are all up in arms and up in our feelings over issues that suddenly matter more than the people we’re talking to, it’s time for the hard reset of repentance.

All winter I’ve been shivering in my upstairs office. It’s been about 58 degrees when I get to the desk, but with a hoodie and hot tea and the space heater running, it’s been doable.

Still, it was freezing up here for months and we finally realized it wasn’t just the constant storms or the drafty windows. We’ve had repairs off and on, and last summer when the last one was made, the company recommended we switch out the entire system.

Their estimate? Almost $19,000. And no, that wouldn’t cover drywall repair, cleaning, psychotherapy, or heart attacks.

But they were the last guys who were here, so we called them again to see if they could just come check this upstairs zone to fix it. They said no, they won’t come out to check the thermostats, or pumps, or anything. They would only come if we wanted to replace the entire system. In January, in Alaska.

Were they standing their ground? Yes.

Was it stupid? Also yes.

It was sort of like, No, we won’t look at nutrition or therapy or adjusting medications or exercise or any of those other paltry fixes; let’s just jump to surgery because you’re desperate and too sick to think clearly about other options, anyway. That’ll be $20K plus anesthesia, thanks. Ka-ching.

Umm…no thanks.

Is generalizing really easier? Or is it only easy for the person who profits from it?

Wisdom observes nuance and the big picture, rather than taking a postage stamp-sized surface knowledge and applying it with a broad brush of ignorant assumptions and appraisals.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things.

And those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.

If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.

Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.

– Galatians 5:22-26

One of our tendencies as humans is to generalize. We put people in categories: These ones I agree with, these ones I don’t. Boxes are easy. And oh boy, the complications that ensue when a person doesn’t fit cleanly into them, or surprises us.

In truth, most of us don’t fit perfectly into the categories of each other’s making. “Are you pro-This, or anti-That? Are you on my side, or theirs? Where do you stand so I know where to put you?”

These are the wrong questions to ask.

Once when Joshua was by Jericho, he looked up and saw a man standing before him with a drawn sword in his hand. Joshua went to him and said to him, “Are you one of us or one of our adversaries?”

He replied, “Neither, but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come.”

– Joshua 5:13-14a

Fortunately, there are a lot of right questions we can ask, and should be asking. What do you think about this? How are you doing? How is your heart these days? How is the pogo sticking going?

Without questions like these – which reveal a heart that cares, and honors the image of God in the other person – we skip over the hard work of seeing people and situations rightly, and jump right to the easy work of stuffing them into our mental boxes.

Part of the problem comes when someone makes a specific statement we disagree with, and then we misapply that specific statement to a much broader swath of things that we also disagree with.

We’ve seen this on social media since the very beginning: Someone shares their aversion to broccoli, and someone else jumps to, “Ohh, so you hate all vegetables?!” Or you mention your love for apples, and they respond, “Why all the hate for oranges?” But these responses aren’t just a vegan, blue-haired, liberal issue. (See? More categories!)

They’re a fleshy human nature issue, because we like to do the easy thing, not the hard thing. And it’s easy to be run by our emotions, jump to conclusions, and accuse others of extremes. But constructive discussion doesn’t happen in that environment. Foolishness and damage does.

If we take that easy route, we tend to progress into labeling and blaming, making accusations and judgments and blanket statements (more generalizing) that aren’t based on fact but on our feelings, because we feel threatened or angry or superior toward the other person thinking differently from us.

Then, instead of bringing people closer together, closer to truth or to God, the enemy uses us to create divisions and strife, all while feeling right and self righteous.

We back further into our own side, and our generalizations push the other person in the opposite direction, because disrespect doesn’t convince anyone that we’re right. It just tells them we’re no fun to be around, because no one wants their foot crushed by someone who, however well-meaning, can’t control their pogo stick.

How about we look at people with love and humility, allowing them to live in the same nuance and complexity that we ourselves do?

How about we look at issues diagnostically, instead of demanding a broad brush solution?

The week after that heating company gave us their ultimatum, a guy from a different company came, looked at the situation, and replaced a pump. We saved $18,573 by switching to Geico because someone was willing to look at the specific issue, rather than demanding to throw the entire thing out and replace it.

What kind of atmosphere are our words and attitudes creating? Do they cool the room? Divide? Dehumanize? Make you feel superior? Keep you thinking critically of others, instead of using critical thinking? (Important reminder: Critical thinking and walking in a spirit of criticism are quite different, and they are diametrically opposed to each other.)

Do you imagine, whoever you are, that when you judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself, you will escape the judgment of God?

Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience?

Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?

But by your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath, when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed.

– Romans 2:3-5

The kids and I have been reading the book of Mark together, and we take it in small bits at a time. Today was the story of Jesus calling Levi, a tax collector, to follow Him.

Shocking! I mean, didn’t Jesus know that Levi was a jerk?

Whatever, they had dinner at his house that night, anyway…with a bunch of other jerks. And then this happens:

When the scribes of the Pharisees saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, they said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” [Emphasis mine, but it lends to the drama if you read that in a gossipy, Valley-girl accent.]

When Jesus heard this, he said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick; I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

– Mark 2:16-17

They launch right into a discussion about fasting, which might be separated by a section heading in your translation, but try to ignore it because we’re still in the same scene. Then Jesus gives us a brief sewing lesson (ha, here) before ending the scene with this:

Similarly, no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins, but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.

– Mark 2:22

What is happening here? Without going into a whole science lesson, new wine grows (ferments) and it needs to be received by a vessel that will also grow with it.

Remember how Jesus just said it is not the righteous He came to call, but the sinners? The righteous were done growing, self-satisfied with their standing and their preconceived notions.

But Jesus wanted to pour into those who were willing to grow and change. And that was His mic drop.

Being willing to grow is hard, though, yes? It’s so much easier to resort to legalism or fear of man, to make categorical judgments and knee-jerk reactions, rather than recognizing details and understanding nuance.

We have a hard time changing our minds. And when we claim a loyalty to a person, cause, or ideology, we tend to dig in our heels the more proof we are given. At that point, it’s less about being right and more about being unwilling to admit we’ve been wrong.

We saw this constantly in 2020 with masks, election fraud, and PCR tests. We saw it with dozens of things then and we still see it today, on both sides, when people selectively ignore the truth of the Bible, or the Constitution, or other inconvenient realities that refute what they’ve always believed.

Going with the flow of the current thing is easy. Standing up to it is hard. Ignoring is easy. Learning is hard.

But is God God, or are our preconceived notions god? It can’t be both. Jesus is in the business of making us like Him, not the other way around.

We’re talking about repentance, of course.

If you have to forgive people for having different opinions and beliefs from you, that might be a sign of pride, not actually forgiveness. Can we be honest about that?

We don’t forgive beliefs, but how people act out those beliefs. In which case, the believer who should know better but acts out badly is more in the wrong than the unbeliever acting out rightly. Yes, we’re justified by faith, not works, but if our behavior doesn’t line up with our faith, we’re just making noise.

If I speak in the tongues of humans and of angels but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

– 1 Corinthians 13:1

Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

– Romans 13:10

Repentance is the only thing that washes clean, recalibrates, and puts things (and ourselves, and our hearts) back in order.

God always has the right of way. We must be reconciled to it.

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.

So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us;
we entreat you on behalf of Christ: be reconciled to God.

– 2 Corinthians 18-20

Can we lay our pride, stubbornness, and fear of man on the altar? If we can’t do that, we have no business asking the lost to repent and surrender, either.

The change in our minds forces pruning in our character, and exposes other things we’ve been comfortable with…and it forces growth (which is good) but it often feels like regression because we’re seeing things more realistically and things were easier in our old ways and our old ignorance.

Good news, though: We don’t lose authority when we accept the Lord’s correction. We don’t lose ground, we gain it. If we can’t accept His correction, we weren’t carrying authority anyway; we were bluffing.

The enemy wants to divide in anyway he can. So don’t let him do it between you and other believers who see things differently, have different backgrounds, and get information from different places. He wants us to see people in labels and categories, not as real people who are complex beings made in the image of God.

Can we make it part of our mission this year to not allow 2026 to regress into 2020? To not lose years of growth by regressing into easy knee-jerk assumptions and categorizations? Can we be more mature this year than we were last year, regardless of the headlines and media manipulation? Because we’ve got real things happening in our own homes, in our own families, and I’m telling you, you don’t have time for this nonsense.

We need to be watching each other’s back, not stabbing each other in the back.

Jesus, help us to be in your word so we know, and put Your Word in us so we act it out.

May this be a season where Christians rise up and refine, rather than degrade and disintegrate.

Thanks so much for reading. If you’d like to subscribe to these posts, you can do so here.

If you’d like to learn more about our ministry, please visit our about page, and if you’d like to support our work, you can do so here. Bless you!

landmark: when the finally-suddenly is just ahead

Posted on by January 7, 2026

“Right there, that one.” Still going highway speed, the road to Grandma’s house rapidly approached on the passenger side.

Vin hit the brakes to slow down in time, and flicked the blinker. “I was looking for the sign…it’s not there anymore,” he said, making the turn.

I never look for the street sign, so I didn’t even notice it was missing. Grinning, I pointed through the cracked windshield at the Butte looming in front of us.

“It’s right there. There’s your sign.”

landmark: when the finally-suddenly is just ahead

I don’t mean to brag. The man drives us everywhere and keeps a map in his head, while I almost took out an ornamental tree the last time I made a u-turn in the library parking lot.

But this road, I know. I’ve driven it so many times I could do it with my eyes shut…figuratively, of course.

I’ve been driving it more and more, too. The plan, for now, is to take it weekly because time is flying and Grandma is 94 and things that weren’t a concern a year ago are now quite different. A year adds miles to all of us.

Meanwhile, I’ve worked my way through Numbers but got hung up in chapter 33 because it is the end of the year and that chapter seems parallel to life right now. Because ready or not, change is here, and so many other markers we thought we’d never get to.

Promises fulfilled. Breakthroughs achieved. Milestones that were always in the distance, so far off we never really thought we’d see them up close – but here they are, rapidly looming larger and larger as the safe space between us shortens.

It’s finally, suddenly. And there are no brakes for slowing this down.

So let me tell you about Numbers 33, which summarizes the Israelites’ journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. They had been slaves, and went from bondage and captivity to freedom and fulfillment. You probably know this story almost as well as you know your own, so you know it wasn’t an easy-peasy, quick trip.

Just because you’re no longer a slave doesn’t mean you suddenly know how to live in freedom.

So the Israelites, like us, had a journey to make. And Numbers 33 gives us the landmarks:

They set out from Rameses in the first month, on the fifteenth day of the first month; on the day after the Passover the Israelites went out boldly in the sight of all the Egyptians…

– Numbers 33:3

During this journey, the Israelites wrestled with the same questions we do when we’re being honest: Is obedience worth it? Can we trust God? Are we who He really says we are, and can we really do what He tells us to?

Are we willing to go where He sends us?

Some of us have been promised something before, and it didn’t turn out the way we thought it would. It took too long, or maybe we confused the middle for the end. Maybe it was super messy, and came with trial or trauma. We feel like the promise burned us and we stopped trusting.

So now when we see a new landmark of promise and fulfillment looming ahead, we hit the brakes.

Dig in our heels.

Backpedal.

We do all the metaphors because we’ve (mis)learned that promises can also feel very much like threats.

You know the story of the twelve spies; this is exactly what ten of them did. The enemy wants us to see the worst case scenario and assume that all is lost.

We should, of course, be looking at Jesus, but problems (current or potential ones) are loud and flashy and demanding. They get in our face and try to become idols, because if they can command more of our attention than we give to Jesus…well, that’s what we’re worshiping, don’t you know.

But when we know the land, know the hand of God, and understand Romans 8:28 (and the rest of scripture), we know better: All is not lost. All is gain. There is nothing the enemy can do that, when surrendered to the Lord, cannot result in our gain.

When we understand that, it’s easier to stand our ground instead of shrinking back and looking for excuses to avoid what we’re called to do.

So, friend…in this season, what are you called to do?

We have to be free from fear. If we’re afraid of the landmark looming in the distance, we won’t confront it; we’ll be ruled by it, instead. But our wild exploits are rooted in our fearless movement forward.

Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies.

Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries, for false witnesses have risen against me, and they are breathing out violence.

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

– Psalm 27:11-13

Still though, so many things we thought were down the road are now right in front of us. We’re almost-finally-suddenly there, and so is the temptation to stall our engines or shrink back.

How many times have we sensed the “suddenly” coming, and we sabotaged it out of fear? Are we allowing God to be as big as He is – and trusting Him for all that He says – or are we making Him small and safe, in the terrain of our own choosing?

Maybe it will help to look back, and see how far we’ve come.

They set out from Pi-hahiroth, passed through the sea into the wilderness…

Look at what you’ve done: You faced the event you’d been dreading. You rose above fear and found a mantle of authority on the high ground. You confronted dishonor, you let go of betrayal, you forgave the one who repented, and you continued to love, even in new ways, the one who still doesn’t know how.

They set out from Marah and came to Elim…

You read this book and then that one, and you stumbled into a curriculum that was clearly the Lord’s design because it was not of your choosing. You learned so many lessons you never planned for, and you grew in deeper humility along with them.

They set out from Elim and camped by the Red Sea. They set out from the Red Sea and camped in the wilderness of Sin…

You had that hard conversation and made that brave confession, you learned that you could articulate those thoughts and feelings you’ve held onto for years, because you finally had a receptive audience. And you learned that the Lord is always receptive, too.

They set out from the wilderness of Sin and camped at Dophkah. They set out from Dophkah and camped at Alush.

You saved and invested, put the work in, milestone after milestone. Some of the markers are invisible to everyone but you – but you know how you carved out time to make way for a service that that no one else would see.

They set out from Alush and camped at Rephidim, where there was no water for the people to drink.

When you didn’t see the answer or the provision, you waited and it came. No, it didn’t look at all like you thought it would, but it came.

They set out from Rephidim and camped in the wilderness of Sinai.

You learned about balancing graciousness with firmness, and discerned between overlooking mistakes and confronting sin. Wisdom has taught you more about which concerns should be shared and which should stay private and prayed about. And you’ve gotten better at magnifying righteousness, instead of venting frustrations and giving the enemy the satisfaction of having volume added to his harassment.

Look at how you’ve grown, how far you’ve come. Look at what He’s done.

He reached down from on high; he took me;
he drew me out of mighty waters.
He delivered me from my strong enemy
and from those who hated me,
for they were too mighty for me.
They confronted me in the day of my calamity,
but the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into a broad place;
he delivered me because he delighted in me.

– Psalm 18:16-19

Can you believe it? Look back and see all the landmarks you’ve made it through, all the posts you held, all the places you stopped to build an altar and worship. A little wonder and amazement is called for.

He has been training us to take the land, drive out idolatry, expand the Kingdom, root out lies and deception, heal trauma, free the captives, and prepare the way of the Lord. We’ve learned that we have to start with the land in our own hearts first, because if we are still living as captives, we cannot free anyone else.

Toward the end of Numbers 33, there’s this little phrase in verse 54: “according to your ancestral tribes you shall inherit.” They, of course, were talking about boundaries of the land of each tribe, but there’s truth here for us, too.

According to your family culture (the way you hold your charge, the way you bear your calling, what you invest in, focus on, attend to, and cultivate)…you will inherit.

Our lives – and what our children will inherit from us – are wrapped up in these promises and how we follow Him into them.

We want each one of you to show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of hope to the very end, so that you may not become sluggish but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

– Hebrews 6:11-12

His goodness is the lay of the land – and you don’t need a sign if you’re familiar with the territory. You just need to know the landmarks.

He has been, and will continue to be, before and behind us.

He is leading, but He is also coming.

And He’s teaching us to prepare the way for it.

posture: how we hold our charge

Posted on by December 11, 2025

I have more words here than I need. The number at the bottom of the screen says 3748 and counting as I type this. Don’t panic, most of them won’t end up in this post.

But all the words have to go in the document so I can see what I’m dealing with, and to decide what to give you. Floating up in my head is the worst place for all the words because they just buzz around and stress me out until they’re pinned to the page or screen, safely confined, ready for examination.

That’s when I can see what all the noise has been about, and when patterns start to emerge.

Ohh, this theme. And that one keeps cropping up, too. I think I see what You’re doing.

posture: how we hold our charge ||Shannon Guerra @ Copperlight Wood

For the last few weeks, one of the main themes has been posture: how we are positioned to hold what we are charged to carry. Are we ready to receive, or to give? Are we attending, is our eye on the ball (hint: the ball is Jesus), or are we perpetually blindsided, looking the wrong way, focusing on the wrong things?

Or, also – and this is just as important – are we hearing the accusations of the enemy tell us we’re in the wrong place, at the wrong time, looking at the wrong things, when we’re actually right on target but he’s trying to distract and dissuade us before the moment arrives? Maybe we are holding our charge, but confusion comes in to waylay us.

Or maybe, more literally, we are to hold our charge – as in, don’t move yet, play it cool, keep watch rather than rushing ahead.

We can get this wrong any number of ways, and the enemy doesn’t care which ruse we fall for.

Sooo, we abide.

As I type this, we’re cleaning up after a four-day windstorm across the Valley. Not the kind where you move all your lawn furniture to a safe location, but the kind where the wind finds that safe location and then moves everything for you all over again as an extra service, generally leaving pieces upside down, or across the yard, and takes one of the table legs with it.

We knew the storm was coming, so we prepared: Stored fresh water, protected the coops, moved the lawn furniture (but I already told you how that went). We prepped some easy cold meals in case the power went out. And we kept the teapot and the crock pot filled and running.

What was supposed to be two days of wind extended to four, and I noticed some things. These observations were greatly made possible by the fact that we, unlike most of the Valley, never lost power, so I was at leisure to notice what I’m going to tell you, rather than dealing with the house getting cold or my phone battery draining or the toilets desperately needing flushed or how certain kids desperately needed to bathe.

Anyway, here: A windstorm at night is different from a windstorm during the day. And this, too, has to do with our posture and attention, and how we hold our charge.

In daylight, you can see the whipping of trees in response to the roaring gusts of wind, and you can look out the window when you hear a crash to see what fell.

You know what you’re dealing with, and what you’ll have to fix. And you know if that repair needs to be immediate, or if it can wait until the storm passes.

So that’s about six hours of the day for us in Southcentral Alaska.

During the other eighteen hours, the gusts come blindly. All is just noise amid the constant background of undulating wind. The volume rises and falls but you don’t see movement; you only hear it.

Relative calm settles briefly as the wind races to other neighborhoods, and then without warning it returns with frenzy, feeling its way across the angles of rooftops and through the fingers of tree limbs. Kitchen vents clap suddenly. Stove and vent pipes whistle across multiple notes in panicked harmony. Wood frames creak moodily, sometimes in timid hesitation and others in angry protest.

Unknown objects scud heavily across the ground. Probably, hopefully, they’re just large branches. More than once, something crashes. You vaguely guess the direction, and wonder what you’ll find in the morning.

I’m not only talking about windstorms, of course.

Some of us have been learning to posture ourselves in darkness so we can handle the noise we cannot see.

I don’t know if you’d call it the “mystic rites of our ancestral houses,” but each family has its own culture and traditions, some more ancient or life-giving than others.

In our house, it means Looney Tunes on birthday mornings, books and pajamas on Saturdays, and speed cleaning whenever there’s the slightest threat of a power outage, because a ) a little motivation goes a long way, and b) we want clean dishes and laundry for as long as possible, and also C) no one wants to go the ER during a windstorm because they slipped on a small Nerf gun that was left in a dark hallway.

Saturdays, though, are the one day of the week we don’t go anywhere, even when we don’t have hurricane force winds.

“You’re not allowed to have fun on Saturdays?” a younger extroverted friend asked me (she reads here, too – love you, darling). I explained that as an introvert with eight kids, two churches, and a dozen projects simultaneously, not going anywhere is fun. The bestest fun, the mostest fun. I’d do it all week and twice on Sundays if I could.

But we can’t, so we stick with Saturdays.

During the week we’re all over the place, and Saturdays are the lull for gathering ourselves back together. I often feel scattered and spread thin, investing in several directions and wondering if seeds are growing or if fruit will ever come. In some places, I can hear the noise but not see movement. Sometimes I wonder if I’m lacking vision and focus, and other times I wonder if my vision is just too big (Or, deep and wide, she thought) and needs time to flesh out.

For sure though, a big part of it is persisting in long, patient obedience even as the enemy hisses that doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result is the definition of insanity. But we know his schemes.

And also, there’s that pothos, bursting with more leaves every week.

We position our family with firm boundaries around Saturdays, and birthdays, and bedtimes, nurturing an atmosphere of peace so we can withstand the storm.

So I think we’re really talking about endurance in the midst of the overwhelm. We have to be postured to carry the charge if we are to endure.

…we also boast in our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

– Romans 5:3b-5

It is just time, and patience, and obedience. It is like prayer, or like writing: We keep coming back again and again, hitting that same topic over and over, asking for words, seeking wisdom and perspective. If we give ourselves to it long enough, we see something happen. Eventually we make huge strides when we’re postured to do so for long enough.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary in your souls or lose heart.

– Hebrews 12:1-4

It is the steady work of untangling knots, mending what’s broken and torn, doing the hard repair instead of the costly replacement. Yes, it takes so much time. But if we don’t use that time to fix this, we’re going to spend other time – and often, a lot more of it – on bigger, more expensive repairs later on.

So we choose our hard, and our vision directs that choice. Do we see worth, or waste? What do we carry, and what do we shrug off as extraneous?

This has been our work for years in our own family and marriage. And at the desk, it is still the work, only the knots look more like paragraphs that don’t flow perfectly together or thoughts that don’t fit on the same string. The untangling here looks more like rearranging, rewriting, deleting, and sitting and staring in prayer, asking for revelation. It looks like phone calls and meetings and deep conversations, asking questions and reframing statements, connecting dots and finding patterns, listening and waiting.

We do not have answers for all these knots. Sometimes the yarn has to be cut. But more often, with enough gentle persistence, you can work a knot blindly and still manage to get it untangled. Because it’s not always about seeing the answers, but persisting in giving the thread it’s proper space after it’s been pulled too tight.

None of us like being pulled too tight. Yesterday afternoon I was already running late, already feeling stressed, already lost an hour of time in other tasks and hadn’t even opened the document to write yet. The phone started dinging notifications and this was the moment Bingley chose to jump on the desk and knock a book to the floor and start his loud meow that sounds less like it comes from a domestic cat and more like it comes from something that lives in the jungle with paws the size of small frisbees.

Hold on, I have a meme for this.

This is the noise, the tangling, the wind gusting that threatens to bowl me over.

But God’s been speaking to me about posture, so I’m learning to brace myself to withstand the things out of my control.

Like this little document, now ballooning to 4935 words – far too many, but don’t fret, less than half will stay in this post.

It has taken forever to pull together and I wanted to publish it two weeks ago. This Monday came and I was determined to finish it. Tuesday came and I thought it was finally almost done. Wednesday came and I realized it still needed work because there was still so much more to say, but I had already spent so much time on it that the words were swimming everywhere, so familiar I couldn’t even really see them anymore.

We clocked out early to get to class, and at the red light I wondered if I could tap out some sentences on my phone to make up a little time. Because this is me, and maybe you: I like to check off boxes, finish the projects, do all the things, and if I get a green light, I want to put the pedal to the floor. Not sit at red lights in the passenger seat, feeling late to everything.

In that moment, I heard the Lord. Let it sit, He said. Sleep on it, Love. Work smarter, not harder. Give it time to cure, and temper, and you – you hold your charge, rather than draining your battery.

In class, before starting discussion or anything else, instrumental worship music played and we just sat, soaking, for…I don’t know how long. Thoughts tried to crowd in: How is Reagan handling her class? Is she testing like she did last week? I hope the boys are calm. I hoped this and that and a million things I can’t type here.

But the music kept playing, and the Lord is teaching us to hold our charge. There was no awkward silence to break, nothing to do but to be with Him.

We (and by “we” I mostly mean me, but I’m trying to include you here) tend to resist stillness and default to restlessness. But restlessness is not a posture; it’s noisy filler.

For years, I took a notebook with me to church partly because of this. Every week, at the top of the page, I wrote the date, the name of whoever was speaking, the sermon notes, verse references, and my thoughts. I did it religiously, in all senses of the word.

Then I got tired of religion and restlessness, and I also got jaded with church, and with writing down the glib soundbites of entertaining presentations instead hearing revelation from solid teaching and preaching. Long after we made a better switch, I still left my notebook at home. I mostly stopped taking notes, and if I really wanted to get something down, I’d tap it into my phone.

And if you know me, you know there’s something off about that. I’m a writer. Also, I don’t use my phone for birthdays, calendaring, planning, finances, reminders, or anything else…I use paper. This is why my office looks like a tornado ripped through a library, and why I probably forgot your birthday, too.

But then we started a new class a few months ago and I thought it would be a good idea to bring my old notebook, especially since I was not going to drop an extra $15 to purchase the class workbook. I’d just take notes, instead. Hello, old friend.

It is remarkable what happens when we position ourselves differently, to hear and respond more acutely. The first Sunday I took my notebook to church, the Lord said, Put the pen in your hand so you’re ready to write the revelation down. And then, notes and notes and notes.

The words have to be put on the paper. The pen has to be held, ready. We have to posture to receive, and steward, and bear the calling we’re charged with.

It reminded me of other wisdom I’ve read many times:

Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped a sword-hilt.

– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

Friend, what is your sword hilt? What do you need to be picking up again, holding onto, and letting go of?

Because our fruit is born from faithfulness. It is not born from having all the answers or getting all the experience (though this is how those come, too) and it is definitely not about finishing everything according to our own timelines.

Fruit comes from abiding, living, persisting, and maintaining a stance of holy stubbornness that expects a good outcome.

Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.

My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

– John 5:4, 8

If we can soak in stillness, we can handle the overwhelm, the noise, and the dark chaos that we can’t see out there.

The post is almost done. The word count says 5244 but only 2750 or so are in this piece; still, so many more than I intended.

Once finished – we’re so close now – most of the paragraphs will still be unused. They’ll get pushed to the bottom of the document, ready to start the whole process all over again.

That’s for next week, though.

P.S. We have a ministry update for you here. Got questions, want more info and details? Let us know what you want to hear about. Our Give page is here – thank you so much for your support as we share wholeness and hope, deep and wide.