I’m sitting in a chair under a turquoise umbrella at the beach staring out at the Atlantic praying to Jesus about, well everything. My mind is always packed full of what if scenarios. What if my blog comes out late? What if I intervene with my two kids who are pushing each other’s buttons? What if I let them work it out themselves? What if I get bit by a fire ant–will my EpiPen work? What if I do or don’t? What if that idea or action or conversation or proposal or treatment works or doesn’t? What if I speak up or keep my mouth shut? What if it does well or falls flat? What if, what if, what if? I ask Jesus a zillion and eight questions. And this is how Jesus responds.

​

Trust Me. 
Look at the ocean. See how endless it is. How powerful and calm it is at the same time. Listen to the waves crashing. Notice the sunlight sparkling on the surface of the water. Feel the breeze against your skin, dancing through your hair. Hear the laughter of children, the music playing from nearby speakers, the countless conversations all around you from all kinds of different people. I made ALL of them, ALL of this. I’m in control of all of this. The ocean looks like it goes on forever, but I actually DO go on forever. I am limitless. It’s all in my control. All of it. I’ve got it. I’ll take care of you. Your work, your health, your family, your future. I love you. I’ll never let you down.

God’s response is calm and steady and sure. He doesn’t give me specifics about the fire ants I’m allergic to or the article I’m going to turn down, but He reassures me that it’s all in His extremely powerful and capable and loving hands.

All of your what-ifs are also in God’s hands. He promises to work everything together for our good and His glory (Romans 8:28). He promises to go before and behind us and keep His strong, loving hand on us (Psalm 139:5). Jesus promises that He has plans to prosper us–each and every one of us, plans that give us hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). So, why, oh why do I wonder? Why do I forget to trust?

​

A year ago I posted this picture of our abandoned looking upstairs hallway with piles of deliveries outside the bedroom doors with the caption: Quarantine Day 7. Four Smiths shut behind closed-doors--studying, playing music, working, writing, Zooming, napping… .trying to keep their germs to themselves. Two Smiths caring for the rest of us--selflessly and lovingly delivering clean laundry, bottled water, meals, and anything else we need to our doors. So grateful for family. For love. For God’s provision and protection. And for hilarious family group chats and Facetimes. 

​

On my last blog I challenged us to begin a “gratitude journey” to help us stay grounded in the good gifts God showers on us. I’ve gotten so many beautiful responses from you all on things you’re grateful for--the fall leaves, a supportive group of friends, waking up in the morning. How about this week we simply turn our gratitude to God, Himself? Take some time to meditate on who He is. On what He does for us. On how He loves us. Take a moment each day to say, “Thank you, God, for being my provider, my protector, with me always, my peace, the perfect Father.” You can write these statements out in your journal or on note cards to tape around your home or work place. You can close your eyes and focus on one of these truths, one of these names of God and how God being with you (or providing, or any of the above) changes everything. You can get down on your knees and proclaim these truths about God’s character out loud (I find this so powerful to drown out the lies and the gunk) or whisper them in your soul.

​

And when we do, our mindset shifts. It’s harder to feel lonely when we remember God is with us. The stressful things ease up a bit when we focus on the fact that Christ is peace. That thing we’re worried about or downright frightened about is less scary when we proclaim God as our Protector and Provider. Sure, curve balls (like my family catching Covid-19 last November) will come our way, will change the way things look, and might be different from the way we hoped or wanted. But God is still God. He is still all the things He says He is. His names don’t expire or leave or fade or change. Our God is an everlasting God (Isaiah 40:28). 

The God who split the Red Sea (Exodus 14:21), defeated a fully armed army that consisted of “too many to count” with only 300 men armed with horns, torches, and clay pots (Judges 8), and who died on the cross because He loves you so fiercely (John 1) is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). That fills my heart with gratitude. 

What’s your favorite name of God? Let me know, and together we can praise Him for it!

For more inspiration find me on Facebook and Instagram

​

*If you signed up for the True Reflections devotional FREE digital copies will arrive in your inbox on Saturday, April 3. If you haven’t signed up yet, but still want to click here*
********************************************************************************************************

A year ago as the cast of Hamilton sings, “the world turned upside down.”

First my son and daughter’s high school business plan competition in Columbus was canceled. Then my daughter’s soccer tournament in Tennessee was called off. Next, I got a frantic call from my oldest saying she and all the other students were being sent home from her college campus immediately. Soon my packed calendar was emptied and our family who is usually going every direction and back again was together within the confines of our home.

I’m sure you have similar stories.

On the first day we had hundreds of us praying for ten minute chunks of time. Some of you prayed for ten full minutes about the mountain that’s been standing in your way. You took it to God and asked for His help and He chipped away some rocks and chunks of earth of that mountain. Or maybe God gave you a glimpse  of a way around that massive roadblock. Or perhaps God gave you some gear that will make your climb more feasible. Some of you went through your family members one by one and prayed for them. You prayed for an end to the pandemic, for unity in our nation, and  for a cure for cancer. Some of you sat unable to form words, but let God into your heart--your pain and hopes and fears. And all of it was beautiful. God heard every single word and understood every single heart’s cry.

Hundreds of you gave away $10 to worthy causes and people in need. You literally took ground for the kingdom, fixing broken issues and passing out hope in the shape of ten dollar bills.

One day you worshipped--praising Jesus for His goodness and glory and power and faithfulness. I pray this calmed your heart and centered your soul. But can you also imagine how heaven was jamming to all that praise? How the angels were dancing?
​

Whether you’re a Lent observer or not, I pray you got/will get closer to Christ through this devotional. I pray you heard/will hear His sweet voice reminding you how much He loves you and that He’ll never leave you. If you didn’t get your copy yet, just click here. You can start today.

After Lent, the day after Easter, I have another FREE devotional we can go through together. Stay tuned for the details.

For now, exhale the stress of the world and breathe in Christ’s perfect peace that surpasses all understanding.

For more inspiration find me on Facebook and Instagram

​

Seventy years earlier, on December 24, 1914 soldiers in Europe were in the fray of World War. Over a million lives had already been lost. Deep in the muddy trenches a group of British soldiers saw lights and then heard their German enemies not firing guns, but singing “Stille Nacht,” which we know as “Silent Night.” The British soldiers joined in in their own language, both sides singing of the night Jesus came to bring peace on earth. And for that night, there was. Soldiers on both sides shook hands, exchanged their meager possessions--chocolate and cigarettes--as gifts and even played a game of soccer. There was a ceasefire in the midst of a bloody warzone. People loving their neighbors. I’m certain it made Jesus smile. ​

I recently received this fabulous package of goodies from one of my closest friends, Amy. Hanging out with her is better than any subscription box, because throughout the year she mails me the cutest, most adorable packages packed with things that make me smile. I knew it was from her before opening it, because even the outside of her packages are exciting—covered in star stickers and silver Sharpie swirls with fun lettering.

I began pulling out the contents one by one. This package was extra packed with goodness, because it was for my birthday. There was a separate bag within the envelope with this t-shirt in it that I kind of had to wiggle out, then unfold, and then my breath caught in my throat and a hot tear leaked out of my left eye. Not because of a t-shirt. Because of what it said: Courage, dear heart.
 
And yes, I am a huge Narnia fan (okay, geek) and this is a phrase Aslan says to Lucy on the Voyage of the Dawn Treader when everyone is losing hope and it reminds me that Jesus whispers the same to me when I am losing hope. When those around me only see the stormy waves. When the boat I’m standing on is rocking and I’m blinded by mist and my mouth is full of pungent salty sea water.
 
The words. This shirt. The ship. It all transports me to the moment Jesus and the disciples were on a boat and a storm kicked up—I mean one doozie of a storm, tossing their boat all over the place. Waves and saltwater blinded and gagged the disciples. Jesus was napping, because He wasn’t concerned. But the disciples were majorly freaked out and frightened, so they called out to Him. 
The next thing they knew, they were in a severe storm. Waves were crashing into the boat—and Jesus was sound asleep! They roused him, pleading, “Master, save us! We’re going down!”
Jesus reprimanded them. “Why are you such cowards, such faint-hearts?” Then he stood up and told the wind to be silent, the sea to quiet down: “Silence!” The sea became smooth as glass. Matthew 8:23-27 

​Jesus turned to them before He stilled the waters and said, “Why are you such cowards, such faint-hearts?” And in His question, I hear the inverse of what He tells us to do. Jesus tells us to have courage and asks why we would ever be cowards—after all He’s right there next to us in our proverbial boats. He calls us dear hearts, because we’re dear to Him and wonders why we’ve changed our own names to ‘faint hearts’?
 
The words from the shirt, this scene from the boat, rang specifically true to me this past year—the one leading up to my birthday, the one I’d just concluded, and somehow without realizing it these were the exact words that had been helping me hang on. 
 
Rewind a bit to when I had my annual mammogram. And the radiologist found something wonky on the film. And they had me come back in. And then it was still not clear what they were seeing, so I had to have a third mammogram. Praise Jesus, I am fine. But in the midst of the uncertainty, I heard Jesus whispering, Courage, dear heart. I saw him with me in that sterile hospital room just past the giant mammogram machine, steady and sure, giving me the courage I needed.
 
And again, when I had another medical test go awry, with an uncertain result, and I had to go back in for another look. My boat rocked a bit, but I saw Jesus with me as I came out of sedation, literally saw His face giving me the courage I needed, felt how much He loves me, that He holds me dear.

This year was a year of God continually asking me to be bolder, to ask bolder questions, to be bolder in my faith, to speak up more boldly in bold ways about and for Him. And, let’s just get this straight, bold is not how I lean. I prefer zero confrontation, making everyone happy, keeping the peace. But each time I would waiver and wonder, God why? Are you sure? He’d say, “Trust me. Find your strength in me. I’ll give you everything you need. Courage, dear heart.” 

This phrase isn’t just cute words from a children’s book or a t-shirt. They’re a directive from God: Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”—Deuteronomy 31:6 NIV
 
And this shirt printed who knows where delivered from Nashville in a colorful envelope from a caring friend spoke over me everything Jesus told me all year. I share this in case someone out there needs to hear it today, “Courage, dear heart.”
 
Whatever you’re facing, no matter how dark the storm, Christ reminds us to have courage, to be brave, because He is with us, and He is Master over the Storms. He can calm them in one word. “Silence.”
 
One of the fun bonus items in my envelope was a pack of Zinnia seeds. The promise of blooms in the form of tiny brown seeds. It’s a lot to ask an itty-bitty seed to bury itself in the soil, to break through its protective seed coating and drive its roots into the soil that feeds it, to stretch up out of its comfort zone into the light. But if those seeds are brave enough, they’ll bloom.
 
So will we. If we’ll take courage. The good news? The courage doesn’t have to come from us. We don’t have to be instinctively bold or brave. We just need to find our courage in Jesus. The bravest of them all. In Him we’ll find the hope and strength we need.
 
So, “Courage, dear heart.” 
Jesus loves you.
He’ll give you the nutrients and light and stability you need. He’ll calm the waves and hold you tight. He’s on your side and stronger than anything you’re up against. Courage. Find it in Him.
 
For more inspiration find me on Facebook and Instagram

​This whole COVID-19 thing has shifted our perspectives. Workloads are different. We have fewer places to go, zero commute time, no evening meetings, no out of town work trips. And although we’re missing some key elements to our days, we’ve also been given some margin—some space to exhale. 
 
This pause has filled me with introspection. What does God want me to learn from this shelter at home chapter? What have I truly missed? What have I actually enjoyed having less of? What did I discover I can do without? What was I putting too much emphasis or value in?

I know we’re chomping at the bit for things to “go back to normal.” But what if that’s not the best idea? My “normal,” before everything closed down looked like one exhausted gal who frequently got migraines and logged a bazillion miles on her car, swung by the grocery typically five times a week, and always felt rushed to try to do her work, care for her family, and tend to her body, mind, and spirit. Pre-quarantine our family ate dinner together maybe once a week and all got to the same church service maybe once a month. It was normal for me. It was how things were. And I wasn’t complaining, because life was full and good. My husband and I adore our work, we have a great church. We have been blessed with four incredible children, and we were all doing things we loved. But taking a moment to really look at my normal, I don’t think all the excess and running around and burning the candle at both ends was God’s divine plan for me. I don’t think it was His plan for you either.
 
Yes, God created work. He created the world, then Adam and Eve, and directed them to rule over the garden—to tend to the birds, fish, plants and seeds. We all have some kind of work to do—whether that’s caring for our kiddos, analyzing numbers, organizing fundraisers, making presentations, cutting hair, volunteering at the nature preserve, or greeting people at church, Walmart, or on the customer service line. But He never said work yourselves into a frenzy. Work until your head spins. Work until you’re sleep deprived.
 
In fact, when life gets crazy, Jesus says, “Come to me, and take a breather.”
Jesus said, “Come off by yourselves; let’s take a break and get a little rest.” For there was constant coming and going. They didn’t even have time to eat.
So they got in the boat and went off to a remote place by themselves. —Mark 6:32-34 ​

Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” –Matthew 11:28-30
 
What if Jesus has been trying to tell us this while He has our attention? Don’t get me wrong. There is zero, nil, zip evil in Jesus. He did NOT create the pain and suffering associated with COVID-19. But He is always on the lookout for ways to grow us, guide us, lead us to a better, freer, more fulfilling life. Maybe Jesus is saying, “I see you and your constant coming and going. Let’s take a break and get some rest. Oh, my child, you look worn out. Come here, walk with me and learn the unforced way to live, a natural, melodic, rhythm of grace.”
 
Yes please.
 
Before we hit “go” on our lives I want to think and pray through these things. I don’t want to go from zero to sixty without having learned my lesson and taken the action to apply it.
 
I want to walk and work with Jesus and see how He does it. What does this mean for me? I’m not certain. But I think it means saying, “no,” to more things, being fine without every single favorite food in the cupboard and fridge, implementing more intentional patterns of rest. 

How about you? What parts of this strange state of affairs are you finding you appreciate? Maybe you realize you like painting your own nails or you’ve met some incredible neighbors (from six feet away) you’d like to invite over. Perhaps you’ve discovered you actually prefer the online workout over the one you used to drive to, plus it fits into your schedule way better. Maybe you enjoyed cooking so much, you’re going to commit to trying a new recipe each week. Maybe it turns out you love your natural hair color. Perhaps you find peace and renewal in the gardening, reading, yoga…you’ve taken up since you’ve been sheltered in place. Which things did you think you needed, that as it turns out, you don’t? Which things are you seeing as new rhythms you’d like to implement going forward?
 
I’m cherishing the gift of putting down my phone at 7:00 pm each night, because we’re all under the same roof. I’m savoring moments sitting quietly on our porch with no agenda, and no urgency to get going to the next. I’m thankful for impromptu hands of cards and family walks at sunset. I’ve been having a blast painting with the kids and rediscovered how peaceful it is for me. I love our family gathered in soft pjs on Sunday mornings worshipping Jesus together. When the world speeds up again we’ll be called to dive back in. Right after Jesus and the disciples took a rest in the scripture above is when He fed the 5,000. I’m just saying, there will be work to do. Important work. I know I won’t be able to implement all the things I’ve enjoyed in this slow down every day, but I don’t want to lose them. I want to make sure in seasons of busy and hurry that I do what God has called me to, that I do it well, and that I then return to a position of rest.
 
And so, I’m trying to be proactive. What if instead of striving to get back to normal we work to create a new normal, a new and improved one? One where we turn to Jesus to consider what matters most. Where we prioritize with Him what’s important. And where we let Jesus rule our calendars and our hearts—our starts and stops, are gos and pauses, stops and go agains, where we fall in step with His unforced rhythms of grace.
 
For more inspiration find me on Facebook and Instagram

​I opened the cupboard and a bowl that was precariously balanced at the top of a bowl tower came tumbling out, bounced off the corner of my phone, landed on the floor and shattered. It all happened in approximately one part of one second. I cleaned up the bowl, which fortunately broke into only a few large pieces, and wiped off the floor and counter to make sure I hadn’t missed any tiny shards. Then I saw my phone. A tiny spiderweb crackled in the corner where the bowl had ricocheted. The bowl only had contact with my phone for a millisecond, but the weight of the bowl was too much. My phone couldn’t handle it.

Phone screens are expensive, and I can deal with a little crack, so I grimaced and got on with my life. I had a conference to attend, kids to pick up from practice and rehearsal, groceries to buy. But here’s the thing. When something is too heavy and we don’t deal with it, it doesn’t go away. It festers, expands, swells. And so, the corner crack spread across my screen in a myriad of directions. A tiny sliver of glass fell out leaving an area of the actual LED exposed. A few days later the screen where that crack was had a black spot. Then the whole screen got funky lines on it. You see where this is going. 
 
There are so many things in life that are simply too heavy for us to bear. There is a weight that comes with loss, a weight that comes with success, a weight of being responsible for someone else, a weight of rejection, a weight of being abused. Even Queen Victoria found her own crown too heavy to wear and had a smaller, lighter version designed. These weighty things might only touch us for a moment. At first glance it might look like they barely made a dent in us. But they are so heavy, they continue to spread, damaging parts of us that didn’t even seem like they were impacted by the blow. 
 
Yes, some things are too heavy for us to bear alone, but we’re not supposed to. We don’t have to. 

​Jesus says, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” --Matthew 11:28-30 
 
Real rest. Unforced rhythms of grace. Nothing heavy. Nothing ill-fitting. Freely and lightly. These are all things I want. When my mental, social, or emotional load feels too heavy, more than I can bear I want this—real rest, a free and light life. And Jesus offers it. He doesn’t require any payment, productivity, or performance from us. All He asks is that we walk with Him, keep company with Him. Mmmm. That sounds simply lovely.
 
Has something landed on you, bounced off you, hit you, and it hurt, and it shocked you, and it damaged your screen? What stunned you, but you’re trying to get on with life without really addressing it? What feels too heavy? 

​Jesus is a healer. He is a peace maker. He is a way maker. Jesus offers love and renewal. Don’t ignore the thing that fell on you or the place you feel cracked. Don’t let it expand and continue to damage your heart. Turn it over to Jesus. He’s there to help you pick up the pieces, mend what is broken, fill in the cracks, and learn to move forward. Stop blowing it off or dismissing it as no big deal. Some things in life ARE heavy. But Jesus wants to bear the weight for you, lift it from you. He’s inviting you in, right now, to a free and light life.