If you’re fighting depression, fear, anxiety, condemnation, or any of their cohorts, remember that not everything you’re thinking, feeling, and perceiving reflects reality.
Keep in mind that you’re fighting darkness, which obscures colors and lines. It blurs shapes and makes bright things gloomy.
It helps to not take darkness so seriously, to keep in mind that things are lighter and freer and more hopeful than they seem.
And knowing that makes a big difference.
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you.
And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.
— Isaiah 60:1-3
Oh Beloved, did you forget who you are? Equipped and guided, led by a strong hand…looked after, held, watched over, affectionately favored by the King.
And I wonder if you’ve forgotten that you are a fighter, if the enemy has made you feel like your sword was too dangerous. So instead of wielding it better (which would hurt him) he convinced you to lay it aside entirely to be safe.
But God is not asking us to be safe or protect ourselves; He’s the one who is our safety and protection. You are a bold warrior and the Kingdom needs you out there. The enemy is desperate to keep you from the fight.
God is eager to pour out more mercy and grace to you. It’s what He paid for, and He wants the full reward of what He died for. So hey, Love…you would be inconsiderate not to take it.
It’s the lies of the enemy again that tell you, “Nope, you’ve had enough, stop getting in line for this, it’s someone else’s turn.” He’s hoping we’ll fall for that trick again, believing God is too small or too stingy or too limited to do and be everything He really is.
But we have to ask for more grace and mercy, because He’s already made it available to us. To act like we shouldn’t take it is to put our judgment above God’s.
He’s a good dad. He knows what we need. He wants us to ask for and receive it.
Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
— Romans 5:2
When anxiety rears up, we tend to feel frantic, like we need to hurry up and do something even though we often have no idea what to do.
But God is not in a rush. That isn’t to say He doesn’t care, doesn’t know our need, or is having fun at our expense.
It means He already knows what’s on the next page, and He isn’t in a hurry to turn to it.
He knows how the answer is going to be revealed, and He knows exactly how stressed out you are in trying to anticipate it while you endure the unknowing.
You know why we’re not good at waiting? Because usually answers come so fast we don’t have time for anxiety. All the millions of little things that resolve themselves throughout the day (What do we get for a gift? What should this kid’s consequence be? Where will I put the broody chicken?) are not any bigger in His eyes than the big things we’re facing right now that also need answers.
We don’t think to even trust Him in those everyday things, but He is just as faithful in the big things. He’s showing us that we can trust Him, no matter what.
The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.
—Zephaniah 3:17
The Lord knows that you’ve done what you could, but this situation still hasn’t turned out the way you wanted, dreamed, or expected it to. He knows you worked and prayed so hard to have it turn out differently.
It’s still turning out, though.
Don’t mistake this as the end when it’s still the middle. He’s not done yet, and neither are you.
Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
— Isaiah 43:19
But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.
Looking for more posts like this? Kindling is a series of prophetic devotionals and encouragement to relight your fire in the places it’s gone out, and they’re all here. Or subscribe to get everything right to your inbox.
I turned off the kitchen light and walked to the top of the stairs, ready to go to bed. My phone was balanced on top of my glass of water in one hand (I know it’s a dumb thing to do; don’t try it at home, kids) and I opened the door with the other hand. As I took a step, I felt something squish under my slippered feet – something long and thin, like a cat’s tail.
Grabbing the railing, I immediately hopped to my other foot, hoping it would not land on another part of the retreating cat, and was simultaneously conscious of a desperate need to a) not drop my phone and water, and b) not plummet myself down the entire flight of steps.
As all this was going through my mind, I whisper-yelled “I’m SO sorry!” and braced myself for the inevitable scream of a cat who’s tail has been stepped on.
But, silence. No scream came.
I flipped the stair light on, and discovered I had apologized to a Nerf dart.
And this, friends, brings to mind that one time, long, long ago…
November 20, 2014
It’s dark outside and I saw what looked to be an ambulance without its lights flashing, driving toward an elderly neighbor’s house. I prayed, and prayed, watching from the window…and a few minutes later, realized I’d been fervently interceding for the recipient of a parcel from UPS.
Sometimes things just aren’t what we think they are.
Among other dumb things I’ve done is taking the act of doing something dumb and mistaking it for being dumb. But no, doing and being, while related, are not the same things. I’m finally mature enough to admit this in writing and now consider it one of the wiser things I’ve accomplished in life (and whoosh, there goes humility, right out the window).
So yes, we all do dumb things, but we are not dumb. When we take on the fear of other people’s opinions and the accusations of the enemy, we move from doing something to feeling like we are something, and it clouds our judgement about our identity. Those accusations and assumptions, real or not, tend to become our own accusations against ourselves. We forget who (and Who) we’re dealing with, and tend to misunderstand both.
I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge— even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you— so that you are not lacking in any gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.
God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
– 1 Corinthians 1:4-9
I bring this up because it’s the season for graduations, and the last time one of our kids graduated, the same thing happened. Not exactly, of course, and I think I’ve repressed the details, but the day was full and emotional and one kid got a lot of attention while other kids didn’t get as much attention, and someone, I don’t even remember who, misunderstood all the events and attention and blew up at the end of the day. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me – at least, I know it wasn’t me at first, but no doubt after the first explosion, I had my own detonation, too.
Because parenting is hard, yo.
(Do people still say “yo?”)
And hey, does asking make it obvious that I’m in my late 40s? Because Vince just turned 48 and that is so close to 50, and it seems like we’re just racing there. So much racing, everyone, everywhere, all the time. For example, whyyyy do we only have three kids under 18 in this house now? I don’t know how that happened and I never thought we’d actually get here. Also, I thought it would be easier, involving more things like vacations and newer vehicles and romantic dates with just the two of us, and less things like herbal supplements and poultry living in our bathroom and not-so-romantic drives to the courthouse.
But here we are, and it’s nothing like we expected. But it’s still good…usually.
I saw friends at the graduation whom I haven’t seen in a few years, and we all look older, which I blame less on age and genetics and more on living through the bizarre lunacy of the last few years, post-2020. Things like crow’s feet and wrinkles, and I’m sure they noticed the white streak in my hair, which, thanks to the sunburn I got the day before, had expanded by about thirty percent.
One friend asked what was new in our lives, and I blanked out. I mean, what is new? Deer in the headlights. There’s so much, and yet also, so little. So there we were amid all these kids in caps and gowns and I answered, “Well…Afton just graduated.” So profound.
We had been to two graduations in four days, and I’d seen kids I know, and kids I used to know, and kids who are related to people I know, and kids who I remember from galaxies far, far away, whose diapers I changed once or twice almost two decades ago. And this is wild, but also, nothing new under the sun; if you’re older than forty and have lived in the same small town (or big state) for at least twenty years and attended high school graduations and such, you’ve known this, too.
So how is such a common experience still so surreal?
Because things just aren’t what we think they are.
We think things (and people) stay the same, and while we say wise-sounding things that contradict this, deep down we don’t expect people (or ourselves) to change. I saw that girl five years ago – how is she not still in preschool? And when we’re confronted with those changes, it can be jarring. We laugh it off but also feel a vague sense of mistrust at the world, which has obviously been playing tricks on our memory and pulling the rug out from under us.
Hence, confusion and disorientation: We think of ourselves as a certain kind of complex but familiar person, but the world sees us differently – and even that’s not the real problem because what the world thinks doesn’t really matter. The real problem is that we see ourselves one way and God sees us another.
And this is where heartache lies, because if the way we see ourselves doesn’t match how God sees us, all kinds of dumb, not-fun things ensue: Remorse, misunderstanding, panicked alarm over things that are not at all what we think they are.
If we could only see our value, worth, and mission the way He does, we would never care what the mirror, the bank statement, or the online acquaintance said again. We wouldn’t rely on what only our eyes and ears tell us. We would see as He does, and trust Him.
We wouldn’t worry about looking stupid or old in that photo; we would see joy and affection and accomplishment. We wouldn’t agonize over someone’s perceived rejection; we would recognize our own effort and generosity, and their distraction and overwhelm. We wouldn’t assume someone was judging us because we would recognize we’re not the center of their attention, and they wouldn’t be the center of ours. We wouldn’t be anxious about running out of time because we would remember that He holds time, and us, in His hands.
Knowing we are covered by grace, we would be eager to hand out that same grace to others, and it would cover a multitude of potential fallacies.
Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.
When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
— 1 Corinthians 13:8-12
We would live lightly, free from panic and despair over things that are no threat at all. Not in blissful ignorance, but in blissful awareness – wise to the schemes of the enemy, and solidly at peace with God’s care for us, trusting and knowing that He is protecting and equipping us in the midst of everything.
We wouldn’t live under the weight of false expectations; the Lord doesn’t give us any of those. And we wouldn’t walk under the burden of feeling ruined, like a failure, too late, or not enough. The Lord does not see us as any of those.
We would walk in freedom: Free from taking on a persona that is not truly ourselves. Free from assumptions and presumptions and burdens and identities that aren’t ours to carry, as less or more than we really are because we have the plumb line of His perspective. Not insecure about who we are, but fully secure in Who He is.
Because when we recognize our need for Him, He sees us as breaking through idolatry and self-worship, recognizing our own imperfection, realizing our dependence on His perfection.
And we need to see it that way, too. It’s the most important graduation; it’s where all surrender starts.
P.S. If the way you see yourself involves things like self-sabotage, feelings of rejection, and fear of being disappointed, the premium newsletter comes out next week and I’ll be sharing some things the Lord’s been revealing to me in my own processing about this. Upgrade your subscription to get it, or if you can’t afford to upgrade, just let me know and I’d love to comp your subscription. xo
I was sitting on the bed, journaling, and out of the corner of my eye I saw something move across the floor. Turned my head to look, and it was a huge spider.
My preferred method for dealing with spiders is to grab a book, hold it a few feet above the intruder, and drop it with a solid thump. Then I leave the book on the floor for Vin to take care of because I don’t want to see what’s underneath, and he’s a good sport about this…even when I use his books, not mine, to do the thumping.
(The only book of mine currently next to the bed is a clothbound copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and we do not, not, not use clothbound books to smash spiders, let the redeemed of the Lord say so.)
So I dispatched the spider with Vin’s military history book, left it on the floor by the bed, and went back to writing:
My last post is still doing its work in me, teaching me to beholdjoy and win through peace and gratitude. Also, I am strategically ignoring the wind and waves – those things that feel simultaneously too much and not enough – and am continuing to focus on writing His words and stewarding our home.
This verse came up last weekend in church, and it’s long been one of my favorites:
I paused to look up Matthew 8:33 – but no, that’s about herdsman fleeing a demon-possessed man, definitely not it…tried again…ah yes, Matthew chapter six, not eight:
It’s this: But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.
I’ve always focused on the kingdom part and not really noticed the “and His righteousness” part, until our pastor said that “His righteousness” could also be seen as “His standards” – and the verse came alive to me in a whole new way. It seems obvious from a moral standpoint, but for the first time I also related it to His order, and beauty, and functionality, in a more domestic, home-keeping, family-nurturing, homesteaderly light.
I haven’t stopped thinking on it, how all the things are added unto us when we take care of the core issues. And I was still thinking on it when another spider crossed the floor, closer to the door this time, presumably to check on the first one.
But there weren’t any other books nearby.
I looked across the room at the bookshelves, and back near the door where the spider was. There was nothing else to be done, it was too close to getting away, so I peeled the already-used book off the floor and held it by the edges, careful to not look at the smashiness stuck to its underside. Took two steps, and WOMP, dropped it on spider #2.
Then I got a tissue and bravely (I hear you laughing, stop it) looked for the smudge of grossness on the floor from spider #1, and wiped it up. Threw the tissue in the toilet. Then grabbed three books off the shelf to keep handy, because the next offender was going to get hit with How The Irish Saved Civilization.
And I thought, Huh, that’s ironic, because that’s basically what I was journaling about, and what so many conversations have centered on lately. Not the Irish, but saving civilization.
Friends and acquaintances have been talking about redirecting their focus homeward, turning from what has somehow become normal because as Dave Ramsey says, normal is broke – not just in the sense he means, but also in the sense that forty-plus hours outside the home to meet the car payment and mortgage payment and the skyrocketing price of groceries often equates to parents and kids and spouses barely knowing each other because they spend so little real time together. Hence disconnection, and disillusion, and burnout.
Normal is broken; we do need saving.
Our culture has had all kinds of misfires in its attempts to do the right thing, depending on the current consensus of what the “right thing” actually was at the moment – provide for the family, reach the lost, raise the children, attend the church functions, train and educate for the next endeavor. All good things. But in light of “seek first the Kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you,” it also makes me think of Jesus saying, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary.”
And then He defended Mary, sitting at His feet. Mary, defying cultural norms and expectations, learning with the men. Mary, coming close: her eyes on Jesus, preparing to teach others about Him, seeking first the Kingdom and His righteousness.
We fight this constant sense of obligation and “ought to” that is more often just pressure than real conviction. The accusers and distractions (sometimes external, but often in our own heads) come in like so many spiders, trying to divert us from the work at hand, but only one thing is necessary.
Sometimes we feel like we ought to be doing something else because we’re subscribing to our culture’s standards and not His standards. We are a culture that likes formulas and programs, and we will often jump through all sorts of hoops rather than do the most simple, necessary task at hand that we’ve been avoiding because it isn’t the popular answer.
Prepare your work outside; get everything ready for yourself in the field, and after that build your house.
— Proverbs 24:27
We look for breakthrough and direction, but sometimes we do so while ignoring the unglamorous answers right in front of us. It has taken me a lifetime to learn that our breakthroughs don’t require us to say just the right words in just the right order, crack the code or solve the riddle, stand on your left foot for a certain number of seconds while singing the pre-determined worship song that will unlock everything once and for all.
Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed,nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”
— Luke 17:20-21
We look all over, but the Kingdom is right here.
The mom who can’t raise her hands in worship because her arms are full of baby, of child, of other things, is no less engaged in worship than the person who stands up and sits down and claps at all the right times.
Having your arms full with your calling is also worship.
At the risk of stating the obvious (because sometimes we need to hear it): If you’re burnt out or sick, it might be because you’ve been so busy leading or serving others that you need to take a break to get yourself well. We can’t lead or serve others well if we’re not leading ourselves well.
That doesn’t mean you have to feel like you’ve arrived before you can lead or serve. It just means that it’s important to routinely draw back and strengthen our foundations, make sure our personal structures are sound before we miss the forest for the trees and try to serve our community. This is the heart of why we Sabbath, but it isn’t limited to just observing the Sabbath. (It’s also important to give grace to those who are different, or in different seasons than we are. What looks like rest to one of us looks like drudgery or torture to another.)
It also doesn’t mean you’ve got to have your act fully together before you can obey the Lord in whatever He’s called you to serve in externally. It just means there’s a necessary balance, because the first thing He’s calling us to is Himself. And if we’re not able to abide because our lives are so busy serving, serving, serving, and we’re out in our community so much that our home life is falling apart, our kids are falling apart, our marriage is falling apart, everything’s out of control, then it’s definitely time to draw back and strengthen those core areas.
A shadow runs across the path in front of us, and we look away from the work at hand. It needs to be squashed quickly so we can return to the one thing that is necessary.
Just to clarify, this isn’t a message about women needing to be solely domestic. We can blame radical feminism all we want but it does no good if we don’t recognize that radical feminism was an overcorrection in response to routine misogyny. Both sides have missed the mark in seeking first the Kingdom and His righteousness.
I shared this recently on social media:
If you feel stuck and aren’t sure what to do because the thing you want to do seems to have no openings or opportunities right now, put the weight of your focus on the things right in front of you or just ahead of you that you can do.
Strengthen those foundations and core areas. Build a strong spiritual structure, make the presence of God your permanent atmosphere.
Much will change in the coming months and you’ll be the better for not rushing into certain moves and changes right now.
But other things — the ones you feel Holy Spirit leading you in right now — need to be addressed immediately, and those are the things that will prepare you for the bigger moves in the long run that you can’t see the way forward in quite yet.
A voice cries:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
— Isaiah 40:3-5
We spent part of a recent Sabbath checking our chicken paddock fencing, closing gaps, stretching the fence back to its height where it had sagged from the weight of snow. If we don’t, the chickens will get loose and predators can get in (been there, hated that).
When we were done, walking back, we talked about how this would be a good time to look for chaga before the leaves come out. (What is chaga, you ask? It grows on birch trees, great for all kinds of health issues – here you go.)
We’ve never really hunted for it before, but lots of our friends have. We walked through the woods, looking up while also trying not to trip over the roots and fallen logs at our feet, wondering how we would get to the chaga if we found any in these tall, tall trees. Even if you do spot some, it’s not the most accessible thing in the world.
“You know what would be amazing?” I said. “If that giant birch tree the neighbors cut down last year had some on it.” We’d shared our chainsaw with them, and they had shared the wood with us, but we’d already chopped and stacked our share. We kept walking, looking up, going around the trees, looking at all sides.
We finally reached the edge of the woods and a huge birch log lay next to the path – part of the neighbor’s tree that for some reason we hadn’t cut for firewood.
Right on the top of it, a choppy dark crust with some exposed orange under it. If you know, you know.
“Um, wouldn’t it be nice…” I repeated, “if there just happened to be chaga on the tree that was already cut down…like, right in front of us…”
Wouldn’t it be nice if the thing we’re seeking really is what’s closest at hand?
It wasn’t a large piece, but it was right there. No climbing, no striving required. Just right in front of us, waiting to be found.
P.S. It’s been a while since I updated y’all on some things, so here you go:
Looking for more homesteaderly content? Here’s our fun new gig: short posts on sustainability in small bites, everything from chaga to chickens.
If you feel stuck and need someone to help you move forward in this season, I currently have one slot available for coaching and will have another open up in a couple weeks. Info here.
If you are local (here in the MatSu Valley, or within driving distance) and want to address some core issues – because this is how we pave the way for breakthrough and revival – we’re in the middle of a series of multi-church prayer and worship gatherings that have been focused on unity, repentance, and restoration. Info and schedule here.
