without

Do everything without grumbling or arguing.
- Philippians 2:14 (NIV)
 
Can you imagine walking into your favorite coffee shop only to discover they're out of the main ingredient needed to make your drink? It happened to me. Then, the next day, I stopped somewhere to grab lunch for a group of people and discovered an entire section of food was unavailable because the cooler was broken.
Seriously?
Now, neither of these things qualifies as an actual crisis. I survived both incidents. But isn't it funny how quickly a tiny inconvenience can change our attitude?
Philippians tells us to do everything without grumbling or arguing. Everything, Paul? Apparently, that includes coffee shortages and broken coolers.
It's easy to think our faith is demonstrated primarily in the big moments—how we respond to loss, uncertainty, fear, or major changes. But most of our lives aren't made up of big moments. They're made up of traffic lights, long lines, messed-up orders, broken appliances, changed plans...and places that are out of the one thing we stopped there to get.
Maybe those little inconveniences are opportunities to practice something bigger: Patience. Grace. Gratitude. Perspective.
I didn't get what I wanted that day. But I had plenty of other choices. I could be irritated about what wasn't available—or grateful for what was.
And perhaps that's something worth remembering the next time life tells us “Sorry, we're out.”
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

a little bird

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him,     and he will make your paths straight.
- Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV)
 
Saturday night, sometime around midnight, we pulled into our kids' new neighborhood with another load of their belongings, and right in the middle of their driveway sat the tiniest little finch. She let me walk right up to her without moving. With people unloading trailers and carrying furniture into the garage in the dark, I knew someone could easily step on her. So I picked her up. She was NOT happy about it. She squawked, struggled, and tried to fly away—but she couldn't. I moved her into the bushes near the front door where she'd be out of the path of all those busy feet. She didn't understand that I was trying to protect her, but I could see what she couldn't.
The next day we returned to help unpack, and there she was again, this time sitting on the sidewalk. I started toward her, planning to move her back to safety. But this time, she flew, not very far—but farther than she could the night before.
Proverbs tells us to trust in the Lord rather than leaning on our own understanding. That's difficult when we don't understand why something in our lives is changing.
Sometimes we squawk and struggle because we don't want to be moved from the place where we've gotten comfortable.
But we only see where we're sitting - God sees everything around us.
Maybe the place we desperately want to stay isn't where we need to remain. Maybe the change we're resisting is leading somewhere we can't see yet, and maybe we're not ready to soar today.
That's okay - sometimes faith is trusting the One who can see what we can't—and discovering that today, we can fly just a little farther than yesterday.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

moving

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
- Galatians 6:9 (NIV)
 
We spent this past weekend helping our youngest son and his family move to a new home in a new city.
And when I say move, I mean MOVE. A moving van. A truck with a trailer. A Bronco with a trailer. Three SUVs. Two trips between two cities and two houses about twelve miles apart. We packed, loaded, hauled, unloaded, and cleaned for sixteen hours—on the hottest day of the year. By the time we finally dropped into bed, every muscle seemed to have an opinion about how we'd spent the day. And the next morning? Time to unpack. But here's the thing: I'd do it all over again. Because those sore muscles came with something pretty wonderful—our kids and grandkids are closer to us now.
Galatians tells us not to become weary in doing good. I usually think about that spiritually: serving, ministering, helping others, doing the things God calls us to do. But maybe it applies to ordinary days, too.
Sometimes doing something good is exhausting. Sometimes love looks like carrying another box when your arms already hurt. Sometimes serving someone means giving up your comfortable Saturday. Sometimes the blessing doesn't make the work easier—it simply makes the work worth it.
We are going to get tired in this life. Maybe the better question is whether we're getting tired doing something that matters. Because some things are simply worth being tired for.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

church

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
- Hebrews 10:24–25 (NIV)
 
For the past couple of years, we have been searching for a church home. You would think finding a church would be easy. There are churches everywhere! But finding a place where you feel like you can truly belong? That's been harder than I expected.
We don't want a mega church or one with so many satellite locations that we're never quite sure where the pastor is. We want something small enough to build relationships, but large enough to have different ages, activities, and interests. We want sound teaching, belief in the Trinity, communion, and worship music that speaks to us. We want opportunities to be involved without feeling like we need to be at church every night of the week. Apparently, we have a list.
I don't think there's anything wrong with knowing what we're looking for. Where we worship matters. What a church teaches matters. The people we surround ourselves with matter. But I've also realized something during this search: God can't connect us to a church community if we never stay long enough to become part of one.
Hebrews reminds us not to give up meeting together, but to encourage one another and spur one another toward love and good works.
Maybe sometimes we're so busy looking for the place that checks every box that we forget why we're looking in the first place.
We're looking for a place to worship God. A place to learn, to encourage others and be encouraged. A place to serve and a place to show up.
The perfect church probably doesn't exist. And if it did, the minute all of us imperfect people walked through the door, we'd ruin it anyway. So maybe the question isn't, “Does this church have everything we're looking for?”
Maybe it's simply: “Can we grow closer to God here?”
If the answer is yes, maybe that's enough reason to keep showing up.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

there

 You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.
- Matthew 5:14 (NKJV)
 
We all have a there - that place in our story we can point back to and say, that changed me.
Sometimes there is an actual place, sometimes it's a season. Sometimes it's a hospital room, a job we lost, a relationship that changed, a decision we didn't want to make, a prayer that seemed unanswered, or a road we never expected to travel. Sometimes there is simply the moment when life became divided into before and after.
This week, we've talked about a lot of different places. There was a café table where something as simple as Smarties and high-fives became a fifteen-year legacy of kindness.
There was a boat in a storm, headed for the other side, there were frightened disciples wondering if Jesus even heard them. There were fears, doubts and lies that needed to be called by their real names. There was a shoreline most people probably would have avoided and a man everyone else had given up on.
And there was a family in Iowa packing up everything they knew and moving to Arkansas without any idea what God had waiting for them there.
Different stories, different places, different "theres".
But God was present in every one of them.
I've lived long enough now to have quite a collection of "theres" of my own. There are places I never would have chosen to go and seasons I certainly wouldn't volunteer to repeat. There have been moments when I've been afraid, times when plans fell apart, when I couldn't understand why God was allowing something to happen. Times when the only prayer I could manage was some version of, God, are You there?
And looking back, I can answer that question differently now.
Yes. He was there. He was there when I understood what He was doing, and He was there when I didn't.
He was there in the prayers that were answered the way I hoped, and He was there when the answer looked nothing like what I wanted.
He was there when the road was easy and He was there when getting to the other side meant going straight through a storm.
He heard me there.
He met me there.
And He changed me there.
Maybe that's why Jesus' words in Matthew 5:14 matter so much: “You are the light of the world.”
Light isn't particularly noticeable when everything around it is already bright, we notice light when things get dark.
And maybe some of the places where we once wondered where God was are the very places He was preparing us to carry His light.
Think about the man Jesus freed in Mark chapter 5. Yesterday we talked about how he wanted to leave with Jesus, but Jesus told him to stay and tell people what the Lord had done for him. His "there" became part of his testimony.
So did mine.
And so can yours.
Maybe you've walked through grief, and now you recognize it in someone else's eyes.
Maybe you've struggled financially, and now you understand the fear someone else is carrying.
Maybe you've battled insecurity, addiction, loneliness, illness, disappointment or fear.
Maybe you've had to start over.
Maybe you've watched a plan you were certain about completely fall apart.
Maybe you've found yourself somewhere you never intended to be.
And maybe you wondered if God heard you there.
He did.
But what if He didn't bring you through your there simply so you could put it behind you?
What if somebody else needs the light you learned to carry in that darkness?
What if the encouragement you can offer today comes from the comfort God gave you yesterday?
What if the person standing in front of you needs to hear, I've been there. Let me tell you what God did.
We don't have to have all the answers.
We don't have to have a perfect testimony tied up with a beautiful little bow.
We simply have to be willing to let God use our story.
Because our stories aren't supposed to stop with us.
The kindness we receive can become kindness we give away.
The storms we survive can teach us how to trust.
The fears we name can remind us Who is greater.
And the places God brings us through can become the places from which we tell somebody else what He has done.
Maybe that's what being a light looks like. Not standing above someone and shouting directions, but standing beside them and saying, I know this place. I've had a “there,” too. And Jesus met me there.
So as this week comes to a close, I have one question:
Where is your there?
The place where you wondered whether God heard you. The season when you were afraid. The thing you thought might break you. The place you never expected to find yourself. Don't be ashamed of your there. Don't assume God wasted it. And don't hide the light He gave you while you were walking through it.
Wherever your “there” is, He heard you there. He met you there. And He can use what happened there to shine His light through you here.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible

story time

As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon possessed begged to go with Him. But Jesus said, “No, go home to your family, and tell them everything the Lord has done for you and how merciful He has been.”
- Mark 5:18–19
 
There's a moment near the end of Mark 5 that I think is easy to read right past. Jesus has just done something incredible. He meets a man whose life has been completely overtaken by evil. The man has been living among the tombs, isolated from everyone around him. People are afraid of him. He's hurting himself. He's uncontrollable. His life, by every human measure, seems hopeless.
Then Jesus comes and everything changes. By the time the people from town arrive, they find this man sitting there, dressed and in his right mind.
Can you imagine? After everything he'd been through, the man wants to leave with Jesus. That seems like a perfectly reasonable response to me.
Jesus, You saved me. You changed my life. Wherever You're going, I'm coming with You.
But Jesus tells him no. Instead, He tells the man to go home to his family and tell them everything the Lord has done for him.
In other words: Stay here. Tell your story. The place that held some of his worst memories became his mission field.
I've thought about that a lot because sometimes the place God wants us isn't necessarily the place we would choose for ourselves.
In 2002, we left Iowa. At the time, it sure didn't feel like a good choice or a good decision. It felt like we had simply run out of options. The company Randy and I worked for was going through serious downsizing, and both of us had been impacted. We had three kids, a load of debt and an opportunity to pick up everything we owned and move to Arkansas. There was just one little problem. I didn't want to go. At all. Our family was in Iowa. Our friends were in Iowa. Our lives were in Iowa. Arkansas was a place we'd never lived, and we didn't know anyone there. Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. I cried for weeks.
Looking back now, I can see something I couldn't see then.
God knew what was waiting for us in Arkansas. He knew the people we hadn't met yet. He knew the friendships that hadn't been formed yet. He knew the opportunities that hadn't happened yet. He knew the lives that would eventually intersect with ours—and the people who would make a difference in our lives, too.
Twenty-four years later, I can tell you that moving to Arkansas was the right thing to do. I couldn't possibly list all the reasons. Honestly, it would probably fill a book. But I can tell you this:
We have made connections and been given opportunities to make a difference in people's lives that never would have happened if we'd stayed in Iowa. And there are people who have changed our lives whom we never would have known. I couldn't see any of that while I was crying about leaving home. I could only see what I was losing. God could see where we were going.
Maybe that's part of what makes the story in Mark 5 so powerful. The man knew what Jesus had rescued him from. Jesus knew what He was sending him to. And his story didn't belong only to him. There were people who needed to hear what Jesus had done.
The same is true for us.
We all have chapters we wouldn't have chosen. Places we didn't want to go. Circumstances we didn't understand. Seasons when all we could see was what we were losing, what had gone wrong or what we wished had happened differently. But sometimes, years later, we get the privilege of looking back and seeing God's fingerprints all over a chapter that once looked like a disaster.
And then we have a story to tell. Not a story about how perfectly everything worked out. A story about what God did.
That's what Jesus told the man to share. Not theology he hadn't studied, not answers to every question. Simply "Tell them what the Lord has done for you".
We can do that.
Maybe sometimes God brings us out of a there—and then uses our story to reach somebody who is still there.
Maybe someone needs to know that the season they're crying through today won't necessarily look the same when they look back on it years from now. Maybe someone needs to hear that losing what was familiar doesn't mean God has forgotten them.
Maybe someone simply needs to hear: I've been there, I didn't understand it either, but let me tell you what God did.
Your story isn't only about where you've been. It may become part of the way God helps someone else get where they're going.
Your story doesn't stop with you.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible 

name it

You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.
- 1 John 4:4 (NKJV)
 
We name things because knowing what something is helps us know what to do about it.
If the check-engine light comes on, we don't fix the problem by putting tape over the light. We find out what's causing it.
If something hurts, we want to know why.
If there's a strange noise coming from the motorcycle, we don't just turn the radio up louder. Well...maybe some people do. But eventually, we have to figure out what's making the noise.
Because ignoring something doesn't make it disappear.
And sometimes the things we need to name aren't mechanical or physical. Sometimes they're the things happening inside us.
I am a worrier. I can take one little thing and, given enough time, turn it into seventeen different scenarios in my head—and sixteen of them end badly. I like to tell myself I'm just thinking ahead. I'm being prepared. I'm considering all the possibilities. And sometimes I am. But sometimes I need to call it what it really is.
Fear.
There's something powerful about naming what we're actually dealing with. Not because naming it gives it more power, but because it stops us from allowing it to hide behind something else.
Sometimes “I'm just being realistic” is doubt.
Sometimes “that's just how I am” is an excuse for something God is asking us to change.
Sometimes “what if...” is fear.
Sometimes “nobody will ever know” is temptation.
Sometimes “I'm not good enough” is a lie.
We can dress those things up with nicer names. We can justify them. Ignore them. Distract ourselves from them. But eventually, just like that strange noise coming from the motorcycle, we have to figure out what's really going on.
And naming something isn't admitting defeat. It's actually refusing to let it hide behind another name.
Yesterday, we left the disciples in a boat headed for the other side. The storm was real. The waves were real. Their fear was real.
But so was Jesus.
And I think that's important.
Following Jesus doesn't require us to pretend the hard things aren't hard. Faith doesn't mean we never feel afraid, never struggle, never doubt or never face temptation. We can be honest about what's happening.
I'm afraid, I'm struggling, I'm doubting, I'm tempted, I'm believing something about myself that God never said about me.
We can name it.
But 1 John 4:4 reminds us that none of those things gets the final word. Because once we've named what's fighting for our attention, we can name something much more important:
Greater is the One who lives in me.
Greater than my fear, my doubt, my temptation. Greater than my insecurity, greater than every lie trying to convince me that I am facing this alone.
And notice what the verse doesn't say. God isn't greater if I pray hard enough. He isn't greater once I finally get myself together. He isn't greater when I stop being afraid.
He is greater. Right now.
Maybe that's what somebody needs to remember today.
You don't have to pretend the battle isn't real in order to have faith. You don't have to call fear “being cautious,” doubt “being realistic,” or insecurity “just who I am.”
Bring it into the light, name it. Name the fear, the doubt, the temptation, the insecurity, the lie.
But don't stop there.
Name Jesus.
Because whatever you're facing today may be bigger than you.
But it isn't bigger than the One living in you.
 
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Daily Inspiration from the Bible