As I’ve sipped my morning coffee this past week near the window, I’ve been mesmerized by the falling orange and yellow leaves. Sometimes they dance down one by one. But sometimes a gust of wind comes that causes a multitude of leaves to fall at once. 

Watching this beautiful process reminds me of Jesus saying, "...whoever loses their life for my sake will find it" (Matt 10:39b, NIV).

I first started seeing this verse in a new light after I decided to let go of my identity as a musician. As a singer/songwriter in Nashville, I didn’t like who I was becoming: someone who wasn’t happy for the success of others, someone who networked more than friendshipped, and someone who was just plain tired. It came time to loosen my grip and let that identity float away.

And like the winter trees, I felt bare. Music was my main identity since my mom found out I could carry a tune, and then one day it wasn’t. But over time, letting that main source of self-worth loose opened up space for God to work and create new growth in me.

While there are moments in our lives where we choose to let things go, there are also moments when the winds of life force us to let things go. 

Anyone who’s been through a dark night of the soul knows that deep heartache, devastating loss, or traumatic events can rearrange everything we know about ourselves, our relationships, and our lives. We’re forced to let go of our old way of being in the world and in the transition we can feel stuck in a perpetual frost. 

And if you’ve been experiencing some chilly days as of late, rest assured that God promises new life on the other side. 

For every part of yourself that you’ve had to let go, God brings forth new growth, new ways of being, and a deeper understanding of God’s loving presence.

I remember the moment vividly. A few years ago I was sitting in my pastor’s office with my church group. We went around sharing our prayer requests for the week and tears welled up in my eyes as I said, “I don’t feel joy.” As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I was stunned and saddened by the reality they held. 

It felt like something was wrong with me. Everyone else seemed so happy with their life, but for months I felt trapped inside my anger and hurt. I was so emotionally fraught that I was physically ill.

It wasn’t even Halloween yet, but I knew I had to do something to spark some joy. So, my husband graciously blessed my idea to decorate early for Christmas.

As we pulled out the tree from the attic, turned on some Christmas tunes, and drank hot cocoa in Christmas mugs, I could feel some lightness seep into my heavy heart.

In a way, decorating for Christmas became a gratitude practice for me. As we adorned our living room with red and green, I found myself being grateful for the upbeat melodies of my favorite Christmas tunes, the bright colors that changed the look of my house, and the many special memories my ornaments held.

As we turn the corner toward Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m reminded that many of us don’t feel the joy we think we’re supposed to have. Some of us are still mending wounds, nursing heartaches, or working through uncertainty about the future. And if this is where you’re at today, I totally get it. 
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Sometimes we need very tangible things to hold onto when our hearts are hurting. So if you’re up for it, I invite you to find your own gratitude practice this season.
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Whether it’s grabbing a pumpkin spice latte to remind yourself to enjoy the changing fall colors, decorating your Christmas tree to remember precious memories, or making a list of 10 things you’re grateful for each day, there is healing in acknowledging the beauty of small things and the gifts that come from above.

When some of us think about friendship with God, it might feel like a foreign concept. We may have been taught that God is only to be feared or revered, and friendship with God just seems too casual. And while I certainly don’t advocate for making God seem lesser, I do advocate for thinking about God as friend, which naturally rearranges my thoughts on God’s proximity and intimacy with me.

In John 15:14-15 Jesus says, “You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you” (NIV). 

One time at work, I had to bring up an issue that was funneled up to people in much higher positions than me. Though it was something that directly impacted me, those at the top decided to take matters into their own hands. They left me out of the decision making and didn’t explain why they were doing the things they were doing. They didn’t feel they had to. They were in positions of power, and I was too lowly to need to be informed. My thoughts or feelings on the issue were not a concern and I felt devalued and frustrated.

But in this passage in John, Jesus is saying that is not the case with him. 

Because of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, a change has occurred in our relationship with God. God is no longer a stranger with unknown ways. We know what God’s about and what God’s up to because we know what Jesus was about and what Jesus was up to. Jesus is the living image and revelation of God. 

And because of this knowledge, our obedience to God isn’t a forced or blind acceptance. Our obedience is compelled through friendship because we want to be a part of what God’s up to—the redemption and restoration of the world.

​And because we’re friends, our input is valued. Our relationship is meaningful. Our worth has more to do with our connection than our output. We have an in with upper management! 

We have a friend in high places.

Reflect: Is it easy or hard for you to view God as a friend? Why or why not? In what ways can you cultivate your friendship with God this week?

 I planted a wildflower garden on the side of my house. I thought there would be enough light, but the sideways growth of my plants tells me differently! They keep leaning towards the light. And it made me think about where I lean.

Sometimes (ok, *many times*…) I lean toward finding significance. If I can work for so-and-so, if I can live in “that” city, if I can impress them with “that” job, I’ll find my worth. 

Sometimes (ok, again, you got me, *many times*) I lean towards control and safety. If I can get that salary, live in that neighborhood, manipulate that outcome, I’ll be safe. 

But isn’t leaning so much work? 

What if we didn’t have to lean anymore? 

What if our significance was found in just being who God made us to be? What if our safety was more about trust and acceptance rather than worry and anticipation? What if God has given us everything we need, right now? What if the only place we leaned was on “the everlasting arms?” (Now that’s gonna be in your head all week)

Gracious God, help me to lean only towards you. Amen.

For the past couple years my husband and I have planted a vegetable garden on the side of our house. We love having fresh salsa or a crisp tomato cucumber salad composed of our freshly grown harvest.
Yesterday, I went to our vegetable garden and noticed our first two tomatoes had ripened and were ready for the picking. I was excited to see the first fruits of the year and it immediately made me think of the places in the Bible that mention giving the first fruits to God. This got me reflecting on how my vegetable garden came to be in the first place.

This year, my husband Billy built us new garden beds to put on the side of the house after our old ones rotted. After we dug out the old wood and assembled the new beds, we went to Lowe’s to pick out our plants. When we got home, we dug into the ground to transplant the plants into our garden.
And over the past few months, we’ve weeded the garden when it looked overrun with weeds. We’ve watered the garden when it seemed dry and wilty. We’ve put a lot of work into nurturing our plants so they would grow and prosper.

But at the end of the day, no matter how much attention I give my plants, I can’t make the plants grow. I don’t control the axis of the earth, the amount of hours the sun shines, or the frequency of natural rainfall. I don’t place the worms in the soil or the bees that pollinate the fruit flowers or position the plant leaves to get sun. Those aspects are divinely orchestrated by the Creator of the Universe.
Sure, my role in my plants’ growth is important, yet it is partial. Significant, yet incomplete. I need the Creator to help me produce the fruit of my labor.

When Proverbs 3:9 says, “Honor the LORD with your wealth, with the first fruits of all your crops;” (NIV) it reminds me that giving my first and finest resources back to God is a way of acknowledging “I didn’t do this all on my own” (1). It’s a way of laying down the falsehood that my efforts alone achieve an outcome and encourages me to joyfully submit to the gift of co-creation with God.
Though you may not yield many crops or have much wealth to speak of, what “first fruits” can you give back to God today?

Perhaps it’s as simple as a prayer of praise and thanksgiving immediately following received recognition. Or, perhaps it’s dedicating the very first moments of your day to spending time with God.
Whatever your “first fruits” may be, let’s recognize our reliance on our Creator and rejoice in our partnership of co-creating the Kingdom to come.

This Week’s Practice: Giving - What first and finest resource can you give to God this week?

Notes/Reference:
(1) Raymond C. Van Leeuwen in The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary discusses the first fruits mentioned in Proverbs as “the first produce of the harvest and symbolically the best” (775).
Van Leeuwen, Raymond C. “Proverbs” in The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary Volume III. Edited by Leeander E. Keck et al. Abingdon Press: Nashville, 2015.

You know it’s a bad day when you wish you were a bird. And on this particularly hard day, I wanted wings. Anxiety is like that for me sometimes. Some days it feels lighter and I barely notice it, but on other days it comes at me like a freight train and I’m standing in the middle of the tracks. When it seems too overwhelming to bear, I daydream I could fly away from it. 

All it takes is that one trigger and my mind starts to spiral. I go from zero to ninja, ready to strike at any moment. No one’s fighting me of course, there’s no immediate danger, but nevertheless I’m stuck standing at the ready…waiting…evaluating every potential threat and planning every counter-maneuver to ensure the win. The fight never comes, but the planning is tiresome. It’s exhausting being a ninja. 

And on one of these ninja days I was watching the birds at my bird feeder. We get all sort of birds at our feeders, from Mourning Doves to Indigo Buntings, we’ve developed quite a rookery. As I watched the birds carelessly eat their seeds, I thought to myself, It must be really nice being a bird. Birds don’t look like they’re heavy with sadness or weighed down by worry. All they have to do is eat and procreate. Sure there might be other things they do, but overall, it seems like a nice, simple life. And when I caught myself having that thought, that’s when I knew I had crossed the threshold from anxiety to despair.

And thank goodness for the Bible. I’m not alone in wishing I was a bird. We see a similar sentiment in the lament of Psalm 55. We’re not really sure of the exact circumstances of this Psalm, but we do know the Psalmist had a lot going on, and had a lot of anxiety and inner turmoil as a result. In verse 2 and 5 he or she says (1), “My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught…my heart is in anguish within me; fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me… (Psalm 55:2-5, NIV).”

And because of all this turmoil the psalmist then expresses, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove. I would fly away and be at rest. I would flee far away and stay in the desert. I would hurry to my place of shelter far from the tempest and storm.” (Psalm 55:6-8, NIV). 

I don’t know where you find yourself today, but if you’re having an I-wish-I-was-a-bird day, then I’d like to suggest two things this Psalm recommends:

1. Express your feelings to God

The Psalmist in this psalm doesn’t hold anything back. From trash talking enemies to being honest about feeling terror, the psalmist lays it all out before God. Sometimes we think that we can’t really bring our emotions to God. Sure, we can praise God when we’re grateful, we can confess our sins when we’re bad, but complain? Moan? Wish ill on my enemies? That seems off-limits. Yet that’s the liberating part about the psalms: we are invited to share our innermost feelings with God, the deep hurt and rejection, the overwhelming fear and terror that we stuff down so that we can live our lives not looking like a crazy person. 

Friends, it’s time to bring it out of hiding. Lay it on the table while you sit with God and see what God has to say about it. 

Now a second recommendation of this Psalm:

2. Make a choice to move from despair to trust.

Please note (as evidenced by this Psalm): we have to go through step 1 before we can go to step 2. So often we are taught in our Christian culture to go straight to Step 2. Don’t be fearful, trust God. Don’t be angry, trust God. Don’t be sad, trust God. But when we skip over acknowledging our legitimate emotions, we find ourselves in denial rather than trust. In order to trust God, we must have something to trust God about and in order to have something to trust God about we have to understand the gravity of our situation.

"...when we skip over acknowledging our legitimate emotions, we find ourselves in denial rather than trust." 

Now, there is another end of this pendulum. Some of us are so comfortable with the idea of lament, feeling all the feels and unleashing all the anger, that we find ourselves getting stuck in these emotions. We know we’re justified in our feelings—he betrayed me, she lied to me, they hurt me—and we are. And, at some point—at the right point in our journey—we have to make a choice to move from our anger, our grief, our hurt to trust. 

There comes a point when we have to acknowledge that we can’t fly in circles around our problems and we can’t fly away from our problems. We need God’s help to face our problems and move forward with trust.

We need a “but” in our story. Verse 23 says, “But as for me, I trust in you" (Psalm 55:23, NIV, emphasis mine)

Finding this “but” in our story might look different for all of us. We might need help getting there. Help might look like lots of prayer sprinkled in with medication, a therapist, a pastor, a good meditation app—finding our “but” is a process, and it’s a necessary process.

So friend, feel all the feels and when you’re ready, put your hope and trust in the God who loves you, who hears you, and who died for you. Amen.

Inhale: I cast my cares upon the Lord
Exhale: and the Lord sustains me.

(Adapted from Psalm 55:22)

Notes:
(1) The NIV attributes the Psalm to David but the The Expositor's Bible Commentary did not specify authorship.
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Work consulted for this devotion: Longman III, Tremper and Garland, David E. The Expositor's Bible Commentary Revised Edition Volume 5: Psalms. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008.

There are peonies in front of my house that only bloom one-to-two weeks out of the whole year. After they bloom, the flowers start to look a little crazy, drop their petals, and are gone. I have to wait a long 51 weeks to see them again. When they bloom, they’re the most vibrant pink I’ve ever seen. I love them so much and get so excited to see them bloom every year even though we have such a short time together. 

These peonies teach me to enjoy the beauty of the present moment. So often my mind is in the past, batting away painful memories of rejection, hurt, or failure. And other days my mind is brimming with the future, occupied by possibilities, improvements, and plans.

And certainly there is beauty in the past and future. I can think back to last Mother’s Day when these peonies bloomed and my mom’s face lit up with delight looking at them. I can think to the future of next year, expectant for the beauty of this vibrant creation I’ll see again. But even more importantly, these flowers help me see beauty in the now. How sad would it be to only reminisce about or anticipate these peonies and miss the splendor right in front of me?

Someone else I know has enjoyed the beauty of flowers and the present moment: Jesus. In Matthew 6:28 Jesus asks the crowd “…why do you worry?” and talks about the beauty of flowers as an example of how we do not need to be occupied with future thoughts about how our needs will be met. And Jesus goes on to say in verse 34, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt 6:34, NIV). 

How cool is it that Jesus looked at flowers too? And when he did, it reminded him of staying in the present moment. One of the translations from the Greek of the word “worry” in this passage is to “take thought" (1). So when Jesus asks “why do you worry” I hear Jesus asking, “Why are you holding on to this thought? Why is this occupying space in your mind?” And perhaps an even more poignant question I hear is, “Why are you letting this thought distract you from me?”

And it’s not wrong to think about the past or worry about the future - God wouldn’t wire our brains with those capabilities if there wasn’t some beauty in them - everything God makes is good (see Creation story). The problem comes when we are so occupied with what once was or what will be that we miss God with us now. Remember one of Jesus' names? Immanuel, which means God with us (Matt 1:23, NIV). Of course, God was with us in the past and God will be with us in the future, but God doesn’t want us to miss God with us now. 

I'm still a work in progress, but this way of thinking has become a game changer for me. Previously to stifle my worries, I would often sit and think about how God had provided for me in the past to help me trust that God would provide for me in the future - and that is wonderful and there are so many places in the Bible that teach us to do that. But while doing this, I acted like God was far away, helpful in a distant time. What I wasn't doing was also acknowledging that God was with me in my worry at that very moment. Now when a worry creeps up, I try to remember to say "God, help me see where you are in this moment." 

"The problem comes when we are so occupied with what once was or what will be that we miss God with us now."

So friend, would you be willing to ask this question with me: What’s occupying my mind today? What thoughts am I holding onto that are distracting me from sensing God’s presence right now? 

And if you’re like me and you have an overactive mind that’s always working overtime and don’t know how to get out of the web of your thoughts, I like to start with a deep breath.

Today, I hope you’ll join me in slowing down the mind, taking a deep breath, and soaking in the majesty of God with us.

Try this breath prayer to remind you that God is with you right now. Inhale for 4 seconds, silently saying the corresponding words to yourself, then exhale for 4 seconds, silently saying the corresponding words to yourself.

Inhale: I am with you always
Exhale: To the very end of the age

(Adapted from Matthew 28:20, NIV)

Work Cited
(1) "μεριμνάω" Blue Letter Bible, Accessed 15 May 2021. https://www.blueletterbible.org/lang/lexicon/lexicon.cfm?Strongs=G3309&t=NIV

A weekend not long ago I was able to get away from Nashville and spend some time in an air bnb with a  beautiful view on Lookout Mountain. However, before we call this weekend a success story, I’d like to mention that we barely got there. We tried three different ways to get out of our neighborhood but each time got stuck in snow and ice and my husband had to shovel snow out from under our tires. After 40 minutes of looking like Floridians in a blizzard, a seasoned snow-driving neighbor kindly drove our car out of the neighborhood for us so we could get on good roads!

But by the time we got to the airbnb, it was already dark, so we couldn’t enjoy the view we worked so hard to get to. So needless to say the next morning I was excited to get up and finally see the gorgeous view from the online pictures. But this time, the morning fog was too dense. I couldn’t really see anything. I was so frustrated! After all our work to get here and waiting for the morning light to come back out, I still couldn’t see the view.

This obstructed view made me think of John 1:43-51, a time when my pal Nathanael couldn’t see quite clearly either.

Now, let me begin by saying I love Nathanael in this passage because, well, Nathanael has no filter. And don’t you just love a good chat with no filter of politeness? Maybe I’m alone here, but I can’t wait to leave that friends house and tell my husband what I really felt about that dinner discussion. Or the meeting after the meeting where my closest colleagues and I discuss how our pitch really went.

When Philip tells Nathanael he has found the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, Nathanael candidly says, “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” (John 1:46, NIV). I just love that. He’s just telling it as it is. There’s no filter. Nathanael’s just spouting out what comes off the top of his head based on his preconceived notions. Nazareth? Population: Who cares? Nazareth? Those country bumpkins with that crazy accent? Nazareth? Where my crazy cousin lives? So much unbridled skepticism and doubt wrapped up in this one statement! 

And the best part is, Nathanael’s skepticism and doubt didn’t stop him from being praised by Jesus. When Jesus meets Nathanael, Jesus says, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit” (John 1:47, NIV). 

Wow. Think about the slight Nathanael just said about Jesus a verse earlier. Nathanael couldn’t see Jesus clearly because Nathanael was blinded by the dense fog of his preconceived notions of who the Messiah would be. Many Jews thought the Messiah would be someone grand, someone who would conquer the Roman Empire and lift the Jews from their lowly status into a formidable people. The Messiah, their long-awaited leader, couldn’t possibly be from the rag-tag town of Nazareth.

But while Nathanael’s view was hazy and inaccurate, Jesus saw Nathanael clearly. And what Jesus sees surprises us. Jesus sees the good. Jesus says there is no deceit in Nathanael. Could this possibly be a reference to Nathanael’s candor from before? We don’t know for sure, but we do know that Jesus thought highly of Nathanael’s character.

Sometimes we think if Jesus saw us, if Jesus truly looked at us, that he would be disappointed. That he’d see the envy behind our lack of excitement for a friend. That he’d see the ungratefulness behind the words of our complaint. That he’d see the greed behind our reluctant giving. 

Jesus could have seen Nathanael’s lack of faith, his stubbornness, his put down, his totally wrong impression of salvation history - it was just one verse ago! But Jesus saw the good. And Jesus sees the good in you.

"But Jesus saw the good. And Jesus sees the good in you."

Jesus sees the good in you because your sin was left on the blood-stained cross. You don’t have to carry around the shame of the past, the failings of the present, or the inevitable mess-ups of the future, because your sins have been forgiven once for all through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Even if you can’t see Jesus very clearly, if you’re clouded by doubts or skeptical about this Jesus from Nazareth, Jesus sees you. And Jesus sees that you are good. Sure, you have things to work on, and you’re encouraged to work on them! But that doesn’t define the foundation of who you are. To Jesus, you are a beautiful view. You are good. You are worthy. And you were worth dying for.

Say these phrases either silently or aloud, giving space to breath and receive between each one. 

• Thank you, God, for your love that is too wide, too deep, too high, and too low to comprehend. 
• May I love you with all my heart, soul, and mind.
• May I be open to receive your abounding love. 
• May every corner of my body and soul feel your love surrounding me. 
• May your love overflow through me to others.

Now, say these phrases slowly, naming a loved one. 

• Thank you, God, for your love that is too wide, too deep, too high, and too low to comprehend. 
• May [name] love you with all [his/her] heart, soul, and mind.
• May [name] be open to receive your abounding love. 
• May every corner of [name's] body and soul feel your love surrounding [him/her]. 
• May your love overflow through [name] to others.

Now, say these phrases slowly, naming someone you dislike or are in conflict with.

• Thank you, God, for your love that is too wide, too deep, too high, and too low to comprehend. 
• May [name] love you with all [his/her] heart, soul, and mind.
• May [name] be open to receive your abounding love. 
• May every corner of [name's] body and soul feel your love surrounding [him/her]. 
• May your love overflow through [name] to others.

​Amen.