Yes. You can do it! The past few summers I’ve taken a deliberate BREAK from Facebook and social media. Was…
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Searching for Spring: Real Hope for Cold-Climate Dwellers
I don’t think feeling desperate for spring is wrong. Actually, I think it’s a foretaste of what we long for in heaven.
I think that the longing from everything being cold, and dead, and buried underground in the dirt, to getting warm, and soft, and pushing up out of the dirt like the first daffodils is something wired deeply into our souls.
I think God gives us a longing for spring.
In this physical world that God did make, I think that seeing and touching and smelling new life speaks to some deeper part of our hearts that longs for this to happen in our souls and in our bodies in heaven.
An Open Letter To Those Who Lost Someone to COVID
“Why did he have to die, Mom?” my 8-year-old daughter Selah asked me, her green eyes full of tears.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. And I hug her. I hold her and think about Harold, my father-in-law we lost unexpectedly last year. As I hold her, I look up and see the giant life-sized picture she drew of him taped to her wall, and the banner that says, “Grandpa” hanging above her window, and the tears roll down my cheeks and into her blonde hair. I don’t know how to explain to her why her vibrant, funny, joyful Grandpa died.
How to drop the dread, and embrace hope this fall
Because no matter what else happens this crazy year–Jesus already knows about it. And whether the sky comes crashing down in giant flaming pieces, or the mountains burst apart and fall into the heart of the sea, or world war breaks out to the ends of the earth, or (I could list A LOT of my worst case scenarios here…but I will spare you the details of my own crazy mind.) The point is, no matter what happens, Jesus promises this:
“I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” John 10:28
No one will snatch them out of my hand.
It’s Okay To Just Be Quiet For A While
I need to weep, and I need to pray.
And I need to feel. And I need to cry.
And I know that seems so “unproductive.”
Like a waste.
I’ve felt guilty about it. Like I should be “doing” more.
But what if feeling, and grieving, and praying…actually is “productive.”
What if it’s a part of the process?
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