Category Archives: the Church

can’t get enough: why the Lord is excited about the parts that bore us

Posted on by October 8, 2025

It is fall, so all I want to talk to you about is books, pencils, notebooks, crunchy leaves, cats, and coffee.

And garden harvests.

And knitting.

And the fog, don’t forget the fog…drifting through trees and wafting through the yard.

can't get enough: why the Lord is excited about the parts that bore us ||Shannon Guerra @ Copperlight Wood

It feels like I can’t get enough of these because fall in Alaska is a blip, a blink. But I actually do lean pretty hard into cozy stuff, and if you’ve been reading here for more than five minutes you already know that. So I’m not fooling anyone. I talk about them no matter what time of year…fall is just a good excuse.

You know how we overshare the things we’re really excited about? We rave about our latest projects, our big endeavors, the latest bee in our bonnet. If you come over and complement the granny square blanket I’ve been crocheting for the last few years, I will accidentally tell you all about the fiber content, where I sourced the yarn, and how I really need to find some grey worsted wool at the thrift store so I can finish it.

If you catch someone on one of their favorite subjects, they might test both your attention span and your good manners as you look for the nearest exit. Sorry.

So hey, speaking of testing our attention spans and looking for exits, I’ve been in Exodus again and I’m way past the interesting parts about Pharaoh, the plagues, and the deliverance. I’m in the long tail at the end that gets way less views, the part people are tempted to skip because it details fascinating things like priestly vestments (oooh) and curtains (ahhh) and pillars (gasp, you don’t say!) and fancy clothing which I promise you have never seen at Target.

Not your thing? Welll…could we perhaps interest you in some engravings and cubits? Some rings, or cords, or embroidered tunics?

No, no, we say, I’m so sorry but I can’t stay another minute, I’ve got to go, as though we’re trying to shut down a persistent telemarketer who insists upon reading us the script from a nonprofit we haven’t given to in 27 years.

Hmmm, vestments and ephods. Our eyes start to glaze over, the lines blur. These are not, for most of us, the eccentric passions that intrigue us.

We flip pages, wondering how much longer this section is. Are we there yet? But wait, there’s more: offerings and altars and basins, oh my.

Huh. We know this all must be important for some reason because it’s in the Bible…but this is odd, chin-stroking stuff.

What does it tell us?

The Lord is extremely excited about the Tabernacle.

And well, okay, everyone has their little quirks (I noticed there’s quite a bit of yarn mentioned in this section, so there’s that, at least) but why is all of this so important for us today, right now? What are we supposed to be getting out of it?

Fast forward, skip to the end, and here’s part of the answer:

Moses did everything just as the Lord had commanded him.

– Exodus 40:16

We start to see something important here. There’s obedience, and attention to details.

And then this:

In the first month in the second year, on the first day of the month, the tabernacle was set up.

– Exodus 40:17

We also see timing and completion. This wasn’t instant gratification; this was an intricate process with an attainable vision.

Skip a little more for the finale:

Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.

– Exodus 40:34

And now we find the real obsession: It was His presence with us.

This is where the Lord would dwell to lead and guide His people.

Now, of course, we are the Temple, the Holy of Holies where He dwells.

And we are the place He’s extremely excited about.

In class, we’ve been talking about loving those around us. In so doing, we reviewed the five love languages and I’ve discovered mine are not what I always thought they were.

I always thought I was an Acts of Service person, but honestly, for 20-some years (or about as long as it’s been since we donated to that non-profit) I’ve just been an exhausted mom. Pleeeeease do something for me. I haven’t really slept since February, and the last time I had the margin to hear my own thoughts without interruption, the year started with 19 instead of 20.

That’s not really a love language. That’s motherhood.

If love languages could be identified by the things we’re really excited about, it would be so much easier to figure them out. Oh, you’re a Sports and Guns person? Awesome. My main love language is Memes, but Sushi is a close second.

For some of us, it takes a while to get to know ourselves, much less those around us. Sometimes we know those around us more than we know ourselves. Sometimes we forget who we are until we’re around the right people, reading the right things, hearing the right words, and we see ourselves clearly again in those reflections.

We think to ourselves, Oh, there I am…that resonates. That feels like home.

All this time, maybe we thought we were a Fluffy Polyester Blanket/Pumpkin Spice Latte/Hallmark Movie person because that’s what we grew up with. But then we bravely tried new things, and discovered we were actually a Plaid Wool Blanket/Chai Tea/British Lit person.

I did not know myself until I bothered to look deeper and wider than what I had always assumed and been familiar with.

When we look to the Lord’s leading instead of our own autopilot, we find out who we really are. We learn what we’re made of, and what we’re made for.

Back toward the end of Exodus, we see offerings, sacrifices, hins of wine (wait, what is a hin?), oil, and incense. I’m skipping quite a bit here; there’s also so much about giving, creativity, skill sets, and community.

And for those who have eyes to see, there’s also yarn.

SO. MUCH. YARN.

(Curtains of goats’ hair! Maybe that doesn’t sound appealing, but consider how it would read on an Etsy listing: “handmade drapery, woven from the finest angora…”)

It was not a casual thing to prepare the way for us to be in His presence. God is showing us that in Kingdom culture, we don’t sweep things under the rug, and He is dealing with the situation, the sin, the elephants in our rooms.

The Lord is uncomfortably assertive in addressing what we’d rather brush aside and ignore, because He doesn’t want any debris between us. He’s not into awkward pretending, fakey niceness, or passive aggression. He deals directly with us because He’s not insecure in our relationship and He doesn’t want us to be, either.

His presence is important because He is the right person with the right words for us. He wants us to know clearly who we are, and to see ourselves in Him, so we can know who (and Who) we’re dealing with.

For closeness and intimacy. To remove the barrier. Oh, there I am. That resonates. This is home.

All of the details, the sacrifices, the fire – it’s not just for us, but for our descendants, for generations to come, so they inherit strength and not weakness.

It shall be a regular burnt offering throughout your generations at the entrance of the tent of meeting before the Lord, where I will meet with you, to speak to you there.

– Exodus 29:42

It all looks ahead to the Lamb who fulfilled everything.

This is the extent He went to for us to be with Him – the hoops to jump through, the code that had to be cracked, the restitution required, the ransom paid, the pomp and circumstance necessary after the enemy’s infiltration.

Do you know the way in, or did you climb in over the wall? Do you know the password, or are you a spy, a thief, someone breaking in? Because we have certain ways of doing things, and they’re beautiful once you understand them.

And do you know that the requirements and trappings and accoutrements have already been paid for, and all that is left of us is to be the living sacrifice, resting in Him, because we are also now the Temple where He resides?

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, on the basis of God’s mercy, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your reasonable act of worship.

– Romans 12:1

There’s so much more to be found when we persist in what seems dull and we keep coming back anyway. Even the hem of the robe, fringed with bells and pomegranates, was a constant reminder of who He made us to be: the fruit and the sound, our purpose and our worship, His creation and our works, the nourishment and the music of those who’ve partaken in it.

This is not a one-way street or solo endeavor, He’s telling us. There is partnership intertwined all throughout this and you’ll be reminded of it with every step you take as you hear the bells ringing.

The Lord is always speaking, whether or not we are currently understanding or even listening. He’s not silent; we’ve just been numbed to subtleties and bored by anything that isn’t shiny and takes longer than five seconds. How much farther? Are we there yet? we wonder, as we turn the sticky pages.

We’ve been there all along. We just needed the eyes to see: the things He gave us to love, the reflection of Him everywhere, the stuff He made us to get excited about, the fog drifting through the trees.

So we keep coming, because He keeps pursuing. We keep coming back, because He never left.

We keep listening, because He never stopped talking. We love because He first loved us. And we seek His presence because He first sought ours, and for some reason He still can’t get enough of us.

quick reality check: or, Grit chapter 7

Posted on by September 30, 2025

Not everything that happens in the world is the Lord’s will.

But we hear the opposite fairly often, from the pulpit and books and popular podcasts. I once heard a speaker say he believed that everything in the world that ever happens is all part of God’s plan and purpose for our lives.

But that’s not true; it’s completely unbiblical. It’s also a slippery way of accusing the Lord of perpetuating evil.

quick reality check: or Grit, chapter 7 ||Shannon Guerra @ Copperlight Wood

Yes, sometimes He allows things…but consider how much He prevents that we are completely unaware of.

Yes, He takes what the enemy means for evil and He turns it for good (see Romans 8:28)…but no, that doesn’t mean that everything that happens in the world is His will.

God gives humans free will. Sometimes humans do evil things that the Lord never sanctions.

To say that everything that happens is part of God’s will and plan is to tell a rape victim that the Lord is okay with what happened to her. It is to tell an abused child that they need to suck it up and deal because this is part of the Lord’s plan. It is to tell the grieving parent who lost their child to cancer or a drunk driver that this, too, is the Lord’s will.

Someone who says those things has not spent much time with God or in His word. Those beliefs (which are actually pious-sounding accusations) are completely against His character, and lies from the enemy.

Here’s what the Word says He is:

The Lord is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
The Lord is good to all,
and his mercy is over all that he has made.

— Psalm 145:8-9

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

— 2 Peter 3:9

Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

— James 1:16-17

This is the message we have heard from him
and proclaim to you, that God is light,
and in him is no darkness at all.

— 1 John 1:5

So if God doesn’t want evil to happen, why doesn’t He prevent it?

He often does and we are completely oblivious. And also, He also put us here to help prevent things, too: We are to partner with Him in this work. We are to act and intercede to prevent evil – not to condone it or shrug our shoulders and say it is His will.

He is a good father, not an abuser. He loves you. He has a good, beautiful, holy, joy-filled plan for your life, for this season, and for the situation you’re facing.

Sometimes we come up with good reasons for why we’re going through a particular trial. Since we know God has a reason for everything, and everything works for good, we convince ourselves that this situation must be part of God’s plan, since He loves us very much and wants us to suffer miserably for His sake.

Really. Many of us grew up believing a bunch of half-truths, and they center around that one.

When we come up with reasons for why we’re going through something, we sometimes end up agreeing with the circumstance, which often was never God’s will at all. Sickness is not His will. Abuse is not His will. Trauma is not His will.

Just because He can make good come from anything — and He does, remember Romans 8:28? — it doesn’t mean that He wanted the bad thing to happen in the first place.

You keep mentioning that chapter, Romans 8. What is it, anyway? Okay, here you go:

And we know that for those who love God
all things work together for good,
for those who are called according to his purpose.
For those whom he foreknew he also predestined
to be conformed to the image of his Son,
in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.
And those whom he predestined he also called,
and those whom he called he also justified,
and those whom he justified he also glorified.
What then shall we say to these things?
If God is for us, who can be against us?

— Romans 8:28-32

We don’t have to make excuses for our situations, or give good reasons for them, or try to explain them away. We might be in a really crappy season that has no excuse other than that we fight a real enemy in a fallen world, and this place is a cleanup operation.

But we also serve the one real God who loves and cares for us, and equips us, and covers us with His righteousness and favor, and calls us His own. He has good plans for us, and that’s what we need to agree with.

This is chapter 7 of Grit: Kindling to Relight the Wounded and Weary. It is especially for those who have been burned, burned out, disappointed, dealing with hope deferred, and needing to get your fire rekindled.

grit: kindling to relight the wounded and weary

risk it all: trading self-protection mode for bold freedom

Posted on by July 29, 2025

Change is risk, movement is risk. But staying still and not doing anything is also a risk. For some deceptive reason, it just doesn’t feel like it because it’s so passive.

Our family has been in a significant transition for a few months – or more accurately, years – but most of the recent change has actually been in our minds: how we view and communicate what we do. Most of the physical, active changes already happened; it just took us a while to realize it. It was gradual and unintentional, hiding in plain sight.

risk it all: trading self-protection mode for bold freedom || Shannon Guerra at Copperlight Wood

“What would it look like for you to shift toward full time ministry? What would change?” one of our pastors asked, sitting with his wife on the couch across from us.

“Well, this week,” I answered, “it looks like taking Thursday off to help one of our families paint before they move…and not feeling guilty about it because we won’t be at the desk.” That’s the biggie.

We, like you, are pulled in all kinds of directions, and we fight feeling like we should be in all the places at once. Simultaneously, some of us also fight the urge to hide in our blanket fort all day where it’s safe, because the world out there can be doodlywhack.

My child, do not let these escape from your sight: keep sound wisdom and prudence, and they will be life for your soul and adornment for your neck.

Then you will walk on your way securely, and your foot will not stumble.

– Proverbs 3:21-23

Anyway, that was the plan for Thursday, but then we learned another friend in our group was diagnosed with pneumonia. And it’s been nine years, but I remember what it was like to be a nursing mama with pneumonia through almost the entire summer of 2016, with the feeling of “I can’t even” pervading everything.

I was already making a meal for the painting crew and it was no big deal to make a little more, just as it was no big deal to just split up for the first part of the day and reconvene later.

So that was the New Revised Plan: I’d take the girls to drop off goodies, Vin would take the boys straight to our other friends’ house to help prep for painting. Two vehicles, two destinations, and the girls and I would be back to join them by early afternoon.

Buuut…you know where this is going, right?

Of course you do. If everything went according to plan, why would I be telling you this?

The local lighting store tried to warn us on the drive out:

It started fine, though. Our friend who had pneumonia lives on the other side of the valley, so we had a drive ahead of us: through Wasilla, through Palmer, up the highway toward Sutton. It was a beautiful day for it, though.

It did cross my mind that this was quite the expedition to make just to deliver a small meal and a few other supplies. Not cost effective, not time efficient. And we think to ourselves, Will it really matter, anyway? Do these efforts make a difference?

It is such a long way to go, what if something goes wrong? We so often decline to do the right thing because self-protection mode is our default…until we change it.

The wind was against them now, and Piglet’s ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along…to listen, a little nervously, to the roar of the gale among the treetops.

“Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?”

“Supposing it didn’t,” said Pooh after careful thought.

– A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

Doing nothing is as much of a risk as doing something. And it was so clear when we found out our friend was sick that I was supposed to take her these things. To see her, to pray for her, to tell her what I knew, to deliver right to her home.

As we left our driveway, we prayed like always for a safe drive, no accidents, no injuries, a productive day, all the things.

All the things we thought of, at least.

I didn’t think to pray against car trouble. Or more specifically, to intercede for the car’s gas pedal. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We arrived without incident. I delivered the package of goodies, prayed for my friend, patted the cute dog on the head, smiled at the kids. Restarted the car, turned around, went down the driveway, flicked on the right blinker. Turned back onto the highway.

Pressed the gas, and…twang, the pedal hit the floor under my foot. The car immediately decelerated, not even having reached 20 miles per hour.

I coasted into the grassy shoulder in front of the next driveway.

Assess the situation: Our car was stuck on the edge of the Glenn highway, fifty minutes from home, and I could not find the &*%$# switch for the hazard lights anywhere.

On the positive side, we hadn’t gotten far, and it was the gas pedal, not the brakes. There was no one right behind who had to swerve to miss us. It was only a two minute walk back to my friend’s house, and there was a paved path right behind our car, so we wouldn’t need to walk in the ditch or too close to the road.

So that was the New Revised Updated Plan: Grab our things, walk back to our friend’s house, call Vince, figure out what to do.

Let me interrupt here for a brief aside: Do you know that everything we do carries risk?

Sitting here and writing to you is a risk, an act of faith. I don’t know if these paragraphs will go anywhere. As I write them, I don’t know if they’ll come together into something coherent, or end up in the purgatory of my notes file. If it does come together, I don’t know who or how many the message will resonate with. I don’t know if people will misunderstand or find offense or leave nasty comments.

Every single time, I never know.

But the more I do it, the more I know that He moves through it in ways I can and can’t see. So I’m typing away here on this rabbit trail, trusting that it’s either going to be used to grow into an article, or to grow me.

And the same thing is true for whatever you are doing in quiet, steady obedience.

Everything we do is a risk. Everything we don’t do is also a risk. So we might as well be bold and free, and obey the Holy Spirit’s promptings.

Back at my friend’s house, I made and received about 58 phone calls and texts: To and from Vin, my dad, my cousin, AAA, and the towing company.

Do we need someone to come get us? Yes. But also, we need to be here when the car is towed. How long will that take? About two hours. Also, my name isn’t on the account, so can my husband be there when the tow truck driver arrives? No? Well, I should think about getting myself and my daughters an account, so the next time this happens I won’t have to deal with all of this. Right, well, since neither of them drive and I’m a little preoccupied at the moment I’m disinclined to fall for the marketing shtick right now but thanks so much anyway, buhbye.

So now we had a New Revised Updated And Expanded Plan: Wait for the tow truck, ride back with it to Wasilla, get picked up by Vin at the car shop, resume our originally scheduled plan, better late than never.

What did we do the whole time, besides send and receive 58 texts and phone calls? We smiled at the baby. Talked about pneumonia, and how to prevent cracked ribs from violent coughing. Talked about books, and woodstoves, and our families. And Reagan, who has always been afraid of anything on four feet, had some exposure therapy to one of the mellowest dogs ever.

Our self-protection mode keeps us back from so much. Obedience and freedom both require the same thing: Allowing our lives to overlap, rather than staying safe in our own bubble (or blanket fort) where we think bad things can’t happen, where people can’t touch us, and where we can’t accidentally hurt others.

Where we won’t get stranded far from home and have to rely on a friendly tow truck driver to fetch us, entertaining us all the way back with stories of his encounters with grizzlies while we gaze out on the beautiful day through a cracked windshield and wonder what we’ve been missing.

If protecting ourselves is our highest priority, everything else is a threat. Even simple observations might be seen as criticism, making us defensive when people try to talk to us – and they will learn that they can’t talk to us.

Do you remember when Peter denied Jesus three times? Why did he do that?

He was afraid, yeah. He was protecting himself. Three people asked if he knew Jesus, and he said no every time.

Here’s what one of my friends said about it:

I’ve often wondered if the three people were curious about the Gospel and what it was like to be with Jesus. I’ve often wondered if the people questioning Peter were genuinely interested in knowing Jesus. But Peter, in selfish fear, misinterpreted it and feared for himself instead…Peter made himself more important in that moment than he made Jesus.

And the point [Jesus] was making was, you deny me three times, and all they really wanted was a glimpse of what you and I have…

Peter’s response is so human…but we’re called to be more than mere men. How often do we back down in fleshly fear when God is trying to answer our prayers?

Man taught us to be afraid of what others think, but God teaches us to fear Him instead and only. And in doing so, we find freedom from all other fears.

If you sit down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. Then you will not be afraid of sudden panic or of the storm that strikes the wicked, for the Lord will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being caught.

– Proverbs 3:24-26

Freedom feels irresponsible and reckless, but we are free to dream again, to move deeper and wider, to trust Him in all the plans – new, revised, updated, and otherwise. Because all is risk, but at the same time, if we are obeying, nothing is at risk. Nothing is wasted.

Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.

– Proverbs 3:27

That night, home late from taping and painting, we put the kids to bed and collapsed on the couch. This text came in:

Thank you again (so much) for coming today and just walking me through the practical stuff of what to do to take care of myself. It might have felt simplistic but it meant so much.

The drive, and the distance, and the delay weren’t wasted; they were a divine appointment.

We tell Him no, we stay in our safe zones – but all they really want is a glimpse of what you and I have. We have to be willing to change and move to show them. If we’re not willing to do that, what do we have that’s worth showing, anyway?

At the end of the week, our pastor asked another question: What would it look like for us, for a community of believers, to really live out the gospel?

It would look more urgent, but less desperate, I said. Less insecure and striving, less self-protection mode, less worry about what others think and how we’re going to make ends meet. More wild and free, confident of His provision and protection, and a lot more fun.

Can we devote ourselves to a cause outside of our own comfort zone? When we rearrange our lifestyle to give Jesus room to move in us, to move us, He does. The world sees and notices, even as we wonder if it was worth the risk.

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