I’ll never forget the text that started everything.

“Do you have time to talk tomorrow? I have some icky news”

I was driving up a hill when she called. The conversation is a blur, but I learned that in the coming days she was headed into the hospital for a procedure. A lump had been found in her ovary. The length of the surgery would be determined by what was uncovered.

I remember where I was in my kitchen when I heard the diagnosis mid surgery: ovarian cancer.

It was pouring that night as I drove to the hospital. I’d gone to sit with her husband as he waited for the surgery to end. When the doctor finally appeared, I sat furiously writing notes as we heard the details. I wrote the words “optimistic that she’ll be in the 49% of women who make it past five years.”

That was five years ago this month.

My friend died 17 months ago, and the last five years have been weighty and hard.

Hard, not just because of ovarian cancer and what it stole, but for a lot of reasons. We went through COVID, and we moved. One of my kids moved to college. And in the middle of it all, I wrestled with insecurity and my faith in a good God.

Eighteen months ago, I stopped writing about my process because I recognized something important. Writing while in the midst of the hard invites others to offer advice and insights (all with excellent intentions.) Yet, I didn’t want another person’s wisdom. I wasn’t looking for someone else’s opinion of my value or their view on my life or the assurance that God is good. I didn’t want a friend to share the one verse that should wipe my doubts away. What I wanted was to settle this with God.

I know the Bible says God is good. But I wanted to know that he was good. Know it in my core.

So, I dug in. I read books on grief, books about church and books about prayer. I researched. I listened to sermons and podcasts. I made playlists. The whole time I was searching for something; the information, the practice, the habit that would help me make sense of it all.

Each October I’d reread Remember God because Annie F. Downs had succinctly captured my big wrestling. If God is good and kind, why doesn’t my life feel like I think it should?

Oh, and I prayed. And journaled. And read the Bible.

Somehow, through all of it, I’ve come out of the wrestling with a knowing. A knowing that is rooted in my core. It’s a knowing that is for me but also available to you. Yet it is something that is not told to you or transferred via written word. It’s a knowing that comes from a personal relationship with God.

I can tell you the things that I have learned, and perhaps they may make an impact for a season. But nothing is greater than listening to the One who made you.

But the journey is worth it. God wants us to seek him; to seek His face and to spend time with Him. I believe He wants us to ask the hard questions. He is not afraid of what we’ll find.

For what it’s worth, here are my thoughts on the process:

It’s important to wrestle with God.

There is no timeline for wrestling with God, but the wrestling is important. It shouldn’t be avoided or glossed over. We should not band aid a wrestling with God by quoting pithy verses from the Bible. God doesn’t want us to choose Him lightly. He wants us ALL IN. If that means asking questions, then ask them. If it means wrestling with believing in scripture or His goodness, or whatever it may be, then wrestle.

Wrestling isn’t always pretty and it doesn’t feel good in the process. When Jacob wrestled with God, he walked away with a limp.

I am not the same person I was before I began this wrestling. I am more guarded with my time and who I chose to follow. I have a better grasp of what matters to me and what is worthy of investment.

Even though wrestling is valuable and important, you can’t always decide when and where to wrestle with God. Because:

There is no perfect recipe for how to do life with God.

There is no “one size fits all” on quiet time or Bible study. There is no formula on how to hear from God or how to understand Him. God does not follow our expectations. This is not because he’s trying to trick us or manipulate us or keep us in the dark. It’s because God knows that when we create a formula, we’re trying to be the one in control. And that’s US making an idol of what WE think “God” should be.

Five years ago, before the text that started everything, I thought I had figured out the rhythm of life with God. I read the Bible, valued my faith and family, and could speak easily of the goodness of God. I wasn’t perfect…my life wasn’t perfect, but I had a handle on how to do life with God. Yet in all of my packaged-up rhythms, I was missing something. I was missing the sheer “godness” of God.

As Matthew Barrett describes in None Greater, my doctrine had “no sheer cliffs, dizzying heights or fathomless abyss.” I had a faith that was contained, easily managed and talked about and it didn’t disrupt my day to day with awe or wonder. When I met with God, there was no falling on my face in worship. I could speak of His goodness, but I was not overcome by it.

What I learned in my wrestling is that God is greater and more mysterious than I can ever imagine. I can never fully know all there is to know about Him because I am created by Him, not His creator. I will never comprehend his infinitude because all that I know is finite. And I cannot package up faith into an easy to follow five step process. Nor do I want to. I have to remember that God is God and I am not. However:

How we approach God matters.

The state of my heart matters. Jesus modeled a life with God that I continue to learn from daily. Jesus lived in community. He prayed frequently. He moved away from crowds and fame and into solitude. Jesus lived in humility and service. When I think of the faith leaders I most admire, they reflect so many of those same things: humility, frequent solitude and prayer. Lives filled with service.

But there is no prescribed combination of humility, prayer, solitude and service that can manufacture a relationship with God. Because once again, a desire to create a prescription reflects more of a desire to control and neglects a submission to a great God worthy of trust.

My journey with God has not ended. I do NOT know all there is to know. And I am forgetful by nature and will not remember all that God has already done. I may lose my sense of awe for a season and then I hope that I remember it again. There will be new seasons of wrestling. I know this. Yet I am so grateful for all that God has taught me.

After I’d written this post I listened to a message from a pastor I respect and admire. One who thoughtfully and diligently engages with scripture. He is both humble and incredibly wise. His words on a season of wrestling are far more impactful than anything I could write. I’d encourage you to listen to what he says about a season of wrestling in this message. Begin at minute 39:35 until the end.

Around 11am on December 30, 2021 I looked out onto our back patio and announced “Either Jesus is coming down on a cloud or there is a fire nearby.” Without looking up, my husband suggested that perhaps the wind was kicking up dust. Not in our wildest imaginations did we really believe it was a fire. Yet within minutes I would receive a text from a friend, sharing information on the fire and warning me of incoming smoke.

The rest of the day is kind of a blur. At some point I recognized that things were getting serious. I hurriedly took the ornaments off of our Christmas tree. I wanted them packed up and in the back of the car; the history of our family is found in those decorations. I collected photo albums, journals, and notecards from friends; words mean a lot to me. My husband was practical and suggested we grab some important papers. And then suddenly it was no longer “just in case”. We realized that we really had to leave. The fire might actually reach our home and we could not be there if it did.

It is a strange feeling to drive away from your home, not knowing if it will still be there tomorrow.

We were lucky. Our home survived. And all of the things within it are still available to us. Practical things like a toothbrush and shampoo. The things that hold our memories are still there too. The penis statue survived (don’t ask) and so did our collection of Calvin and Hobbes books that are so well read that the spines are pulling apart.

But 991 other families lost everything. Items that hold value, not because it would cost much to replace them but because they were laughed or cried over. They reminded someone of life that has been lived.

Today I drove by the neighborhood of a woman I love dearly. She died years ago but I still get tears when I drive by her street because I miss her. Her neighborhood no longer exists. There is nothing left but ashes. And my heart breaks because I have memories of her etched in my mind that are connected to that place.

There is much ahead for my community. Many good people have organized and are creating collection sites, creating ways to donate and thinking through the practical ways to help. I’m so grateful.

I am learning that I cannot move too quickly through the grief. Today we cannot know even the full measure of what we have lost. Last night I got panicky at the sound of the wind. My feeling of “safety” is forever changed.

This is true of the fire but also of our combined lived experience of the last two years. We have all experienced great loss and sadness is inevitable. It is okay to be sad.

I am ALWAYS reassured by Isaiah 43:1-3

But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you.
    O Israel, the one who formed you says,
“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.
    I have called you by name; you are mine.
² When you go through deep waters,
    I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty,
    you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression,
    you will not be burned up;
    the flames will not consume you.
³ For I am the Lord, your God,
    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

God has never promised us that we will not experience hardship. He just promised that he would be with us IN it. And that he knows us…he knows our name. I felt God’s presence as I drove away from my home on Thursday. It is the feeling that I keep coming back to as I reflect on all that has happened.

I do not know what is in the future, but I trust that God is good and that he loves me more than I could ever imagine. As my world shifts, as my definition of safety is transformed, I am continually reminded that he is WITH us in it.

A space exists each morning (whether I’m awake for it or not), where the sun has not yet breached the horizon but the night has faded. When I’m awake, the transitional time is breathtaking. The sky on the eastern horizon begins to show signs of a rising sun, while at the same time the sky on the western horizon provides an ever-changing color display. As I gaze to the west, darkness fades to a deep blue, replaced by layers of pink, orange and purple. As the sun inches closer to the big reveal, light begins to reflect on the mountain ranges. Long’s Peak glows a deep pink just before the sun peeks up over the horizon. Once the sun is visible the fields of grass begin to glow a golden hue. And then, without any more fanfare, the day has arrived.

One morning as I watched the night turn to day, I was reminded of 2 Corinithians 3:18 “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” And I was reminded that there is something waiting in the in-between. I was reminded to savor these moments and not rush through to the very next thing.

Savoring this in-between space can be life changing. As I gaze on the western sky, firmly reflecting echos of night, my heart opens in excitement for the new day. Watching the night turn into day, I’m living in the threshold of both. I can choose to stop, savor the changes as they unfold, or I can begin my day without a second glance, barging ahead. I’m learning that life is full of these liminal spaces and we can choose to approach them with anticipation, wonder, and awe or we can move ahead without noticing the in-between.

My daughter is midway through her senior year. As we watch her complete her studies, my husband and I are also helping her prepare for life at college. I can lean in, knowing that my daughter is beyond ready for college or I can cling to what has passed. Admittedly I am tempted to resent the future that is barreling toward us, yet I am truly so hopeful for her future that it makes living life alongside her right now even better. Instead of being lost in worry and regret, I can enjoy watching the changes as they come; savoring the liminal space.

Church too, still feels as though it is in the in-between and I know so many others who feel the same. We’re not quite in one space or the other, unsure of where to land. Do we lean in, take a risk, be vulnerable OR do we let our experiences keep us off on the side? What I’m learning is that this in-between space is an invitation. God is transforming us to reflect Him-if we allow Him in to do the work in our hearts. In Ezekiel 36:26 God promises that He can replace our hardened hearts (hearts of stone) and make them tender again.

As I reflect on this in-between, I’m reminded of Matthew 11:28-30. The Message interpretation is my favorite “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.” As I read these words, I remembered that there is no rush, God will do the work. I simply need to trust Him.

Advent is coming. It’s four weeks set aside to live in the in-between. Advent is the anticipation of Christmas, yes. But Advent also celebrates the anticipation of Jesus’ return. It’s an entire season of the “already but not yet”. We spend weeks preparing our lives for Christmas; to celebrate the birth of Jesus. But it is also a season to lean in, knowing that this is not all that God has for us; to live in anticipation of what is to come. These next four weeks are a time to savor the in-between; to get away with Jesus.

As we head into the Advent season, my prayer is that you and I approach the season of the in-between with wonder, awe, anticipation and hope. May we wonder at what God is already doing all around; in our own lives and the lives of those we love. May we sit in awe at his goodness and kindness; he has carried us on an incredible journey so far and he is still doing a good work. May we live in anticipation of what is ahead, hoping for a glimpse into the incredible story He is writing in this world. And may we spend the time learning to live freely and lightly with Him.

There is a place I go to in my mind. It’s a boat dock stretching out before me on a lake. Aged wood planks are laid horizontally, just wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The dock is long, but the lake beyond is calm. As its currently fall I imagine there is a chill in the air. The the trees on the far side of the lake still have a smattering of leaves that are red, and gold. Interspersed are evergreens so dark they almost look black. It is picture perfect.

There is a figure sitting at the end of the dock. He is familiar to me. He’s waiting, peacefully looking out at the lake. I walk to the end and sit next to Him. We both stare out at the water.

This is how I imagine my conversations with Jesus. Sometimes I sit at the end of the dock, legs swinging beneath me, as I tell him the good things in my life; about what’s happening with the kids, my sweet friends or how thankful I am for Brian. Other times I sit cross legged, sharing the ways I wish things were different. I become pretty animated in these moments, though He always seems rather calm. There are times when I listen, though I wish I listened more than I do. The best times are when I sit next to Jesus and just lay my head on his shoulder as we both look out at the lake.

Yes, I’ve acknowledged Jesus as my savior. I know that I am sinful and broken. I have some of the head knowledge I need. Yet that is not what changes me. The most important part of my relationship with God is my time on that dock; spent in his presence.

I am convinced is that everyone needs a space like that with Jesus. I have that relationship because I met people who had created their own space with Jesus. I met them at a church. I saw what they had, how they lived and I wanted to be more like them. So I lived life along side them, watched them and learned. And I slowly started to practice it on my own. Some of the people who taught me would never have been in my circle were it not for church. The only thing we had in common was our belief in Jesus. And yet, I learned from them and I loved them.

When I asked myself why the Church is so important to me it was reduced to the ways I’ve learned from others about spending time in God’s presence. I know that I can read books and blogs on this. I can listen to podcasts that will teach me what I need to know. And yet, none of that can replace what happens when God’s people gather together and (imperfectly) live life in community, attempting to teach one another the lessons we’ve learned from God. That is why, though I’ve been wounded, I can never walk away. The Church is still the best place to find people who are following Jesus and trying to live like Him.

I love Sunday worship. When I allow my brain to turn off and sing in worship, it resets my heart. Listening to a message from a pastor always gets me to dig into scripture. I’m so grateful for these things. And yet, I don’t think the event on Sunday is why God wanted us to live in the community of the Church. The Sunday morning worship is extra. It’s not the main thing.

The Church is about people teaching one another about who God is, and we do that in relationships. And relationships aren’t built at an event. I have learned just as much, if not more about sitting in God’s presence from the people who sacrificially serve at church. Two women come to mind as a write this. One of them is much older than me. She runs a farm, and lives simply. I once asked her how she always stayed so joyful. Her response? “I spend all day shoveling manure. No one bothers you when you do that. So I have a lot more time to worship God.” God has taught me so much about himself through this amazing lady. She has taught me how to love others well. how to trust God in all things and how to be obedient to Him. And I would never have known her had it not been for the Church.

The other woman that comes to mind is humble and sacrificial. She is much younger than me and I learn from her weekly. She does amazing things like being a foster parent. She leans in to love interns and single moms. She makes meals and drops off treats. She loves God in the way she serves others. Watching her teaches me so much about obedience and sacrifice and none of that happens in a worship service. I learn all of these things outside of a Sunday morning event. And I would never have known her had it not been for the Church.

The Church is a place where we build relationships that point us to God. It’s where we see others who sit in the presence of Jesus and we watch how it changes them. We can’t give up on on the Church because the world needs it more than ever. The world needs a place where God is visible. A place to learn from others about what it’s like to sit in His presence. People who are struggling can see how we are changed, just by spending time with Him. Lonely people can learn that He is always near and always ready to sit and listen. It’s one thing to hear about these thing. It is wholly different to witness them in someone we know. It is in the Church that we see His sacrificial nature, His creativity, and His love. And I don’t know of a better way to share this with the world than through an imperfect church community.

Do I think the Church in it’s current form is perfect? No. But it’s not going to get better unless those of us who regularly spend time with Jesus lean in and love those who have never sat next to Him. It’s not going to get better unless we talk about the hard things and try to do better. And it’s not going to get better if we all just stop showing up.

I intentionally wrote this to be published on a Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow is Sunday. There are so many places you could go tomorrow to worship God. Maybe ask God if it’s time for you to find a place to go. Pay attention to the worship, but more importantly look for the people who aren’t on stage; the ones serving behind the scenes. Chances are they will be the ones who show you what it’s like to live in relationship with Jesus. Maybe one day they will tell you about what their “dock” looks like.

Look out your window in the next 24 hours and chances are you’re looking at some incredible fall colors. Gold, red, and green in contrast with a blue sky. Up close the color of the trees is inspiring. The deep gold is vibrant as we gaze up to leaf after leaf that obscures the branches of the tree. There is beauty in a distant view of the trees too. Dots of color all blend together to make a fall palate. The deep greens broken up with golden yellow dark reds peppered in boldly claiming their spot on the palette. No individual leaves, just circles of color in a strip across the horizon. In Colorado we’re treated with a mountain backdrop that makes the whole scene spectacular. This year fall has been the MOST beautiful of any fall I’ve experienced while living in this state.

And as I lean into my appreciation of the season I’m realizing that God created this beauty to reveal himself to us.

We can read the Bible to know that he created the heavens and the earth (Genesis). We can know that he is faithful to his people; originally the Israelites, but now that’s you and me too (found in pretty much the whole rest of the OT) and that his love for us is so great he sent Jesus to die for our sins (found in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John). And God’s holiness is seen peppered all throughout the Bible. The Psalms speak of the beauty around us and in reading them we can absorb that truth.

But it is only in gazing upon the beauty of God’s creation that we can truly appreciate what he is capable of and respond appropriately.

I have this wonderful friend who is a very talented designer. She was a pivotal part of our house build. She took our vision and transformed our ideas into something beautiful. And each time she would walk into our space and behold beautifully laid tile, or new hand pulls on a well crafted vanity, she would squeal and dance with glee. It always made me smile.

What if that’s how we experienced the incredible beauty around us? What if we responded with awe, wonder and yes, glee, at the extraordinary work of God’s hands?

As I spend time outside and soak up the views, I’m reminded of God’s holiness and creativity and just general awesomeness, which has led to awe, which has led to worship. In my wildest dreams I could never have created or imagined such profound beauty in creation. I have always needed inspiration from something to create something beautiful. And yet, God created the world with no template. And he did an exceptional job. Worship has become a reflex when I take in the views of creation and realize the magnitude of God.

In his book As Kingfishers Catch Fire, Eugene Peterson reflects on how beauty helps us to experience God’s holiness.

“Both beauty and holiness are perpetually in short supply. Beauty is commonly trivialized in our culture, reduced to decoration…but beauty is not an add-on. It is not an extra. It is not what we attend to when we have a break from necessity. Beauty is fundamental. It is the evidence of and witness to the inherent wholeness and goodness of things.”

“Beauty is our sensory access to holiness. God reveals himself, that is, in creation and in Christ, in ways we can see and hear and touch and taste, in place and person. Beauty is the term we apply to these hints of transcendence, these perceptions that there is more going on here than we can account for.

God is greater than we can possibly comprehend. And creation bares witness to this every day-in the diversity of color as the leaves change in the fall to the complexity of the human body. Finding beauty around us is not a difficult task, we need only to look for it intentionally.

WHAT IF the Church (and by that I mean you and me) became a people that looked for and recognized beauty? We would find it in the world around us: the extraordinary sunrise which speaks to the faithfulness of God, or a pending storm reminding us of God’s power and protection. What if we looked for beauty and in the midst of it, remembered what that tells us about God?

AND THEN, what if we took that knowledge and remembered that he also instructed us to love people? That might mean we regarded the people in front of us and saw the beauty that God created (his image). What if we spoke life into the discouraged because we saw their beauty? We could accept the lonely because we saw them as God created them and not as the world tarnished.

God wants us to know him. He hasn’t hidden himself from us. He has left his fingerprints all over creation. When we see and experience his beauty and respond it transforms us.

Imagine yourself in a field. It’s a crisp fall day. The sun in shining and the sky is the perfect shade of blue. You can smell the leaves on the ground. They crunch as you step forward. 70 meters away is a target. It’s affixed to a very large round hay bale. In one hand you are gripping a bow as the other hand gently grasps an arrow. The target ahead of you has four circles, the smallest is at the center. That is your goal as you lift the bow in front of you and ready yourself to shoot (and if you are not into archery, please imagine in this moment that you are an excellent archer :-)). There is a gentle breeze that tickles your nose. You inhale deeply and slowly exhale as you release your arrow. You blink as you watch the arrow sink deeply into the target. It has landed in the second circle to the middle.

As I consider the Church today, I’m starting to believe that, like your recent experience at archery, we’ve missed the target. Not by a lot, but by just enough to count.

A long time ago, in a town not ten miles from my house, our family attended a sweet little church. And in that church we experienced a slice of heaven. We grew in our faith and we built a strong community; we lived out the first and the second greatest commandments. Many of the relationships we built in that place have lasted for more than two decades. And what I know about God now was a seed planted in that church.

I cannot put my finger on what made it so special. I only know that since that season of church shifted I have not experienced church in the same way again. We have attended churches with great teaching, churches focused on building community and serving others. None of the churches that we’ve been a part of have been doing the wrong things per se…but I wonder if we I haven’t set my focus on the wrong thing. Have I been aiming for the second circle to the middle?

I’ve been looking for a church community: a people gathered; organized around shared beliefs. Conversations circle around worship style, teaching style, serving, how women lead, when the youth group meets. Those are not bad things. But are they the right things? When I consider if the church will meet my faith needs or the needs of my family am I asking myself the right questions? AND, if any church spends a significant amount of time contemplating how to meet the needs of the “target demographic” is it asking the right questions?

What I’m trying to get at is, have I and the Church made an idol of people?

I was contemplating it this morning when I read something by A.W. Tozer that affirmed that this is not a new thought. In fact it’s been considered for decades.

[God] is unaffected by time or motion, is wholly self-dependent and owes nothing to the worlds His hands have made.

It is not a cheerful thought that millions of us who live in a land of Bibles, who belong to churches and labor to promote the Christian religion, may yet pass our whole life on this earth without once having thought or tried to think seriously about the being of God. Few of us have let our hearts gaze in wonder at the I AM, the self-existent Self back of which no creature can think. Such thoughts are too painful for us. We prefer to think where it will do more good–about how to build a better mousetrap, for instance, or how to make two blades of grass grow where one grew before. And for this we are now paying a too heavy price in the secularization of our religion and the decay of our inner lives.

Tozer, A.W. (1961). The Knowledge of the Holy

We are walking around and trying to fix the world, to create a community that reflects God. We are not doing bad things, but some of us have been neglecting the best thing: knowing God. How can we accurately reflect Him if we don’t spend significant time knowing Him?

When is the last time you spent time with God just to know him more? Not to know who YOU are to him, but just to know Him? Until recently, I hadn’t done much of that. Each time I opened scripture I was looking for something. Looking to be affirmed, looking for solace or comfort. I was looking for scripture to tell me who I was to God instead of looking at scripture to tell me who God is. Why does this matter? Because it placed ME at the center when God designed the universe to center around Him. He is holy and majestic. He is creative and just. He is kind and he is good. And when I understand even a sliver of that, then I fall on my knees in humility understanding my need for him. This happens (the falling down in humility bit) in the Bible repeatedly: Isaiah 6:1-5, Job 42:1-6, it happened to Thomas in John 20:26-28)

By centering the world around myself, I’ve created an idol. My day can be disrupted when I’m hyper-focused on me and how I’m feeling. When I am aiming at God, knowing Him, worshipping Him and enjoying His presence AND His guidance, my circumstances are of less importance.

What would happen to our world if we were a community of believers joining together, all setting our aim on knowing God? If we taught the world who He is, holy and majestic and then we let God do the rest? Instead of trying to fix the world, we simply set our aim on telling people who God is to us (not who we are to God) and then let the Holy Spirit move?

So what is it that comes into your mind when you think about God? What do you know about Him and His attributes? And how can you share that to the world?

We’ve been spending a lot of time at home lately. One, because we’re in a pandemic and we’re limiting exposure. Two because after living as nomads for three months, home is the place we all want to be. Add in a puppy who can’t be crated for hours on end and suddenly we’re a very homebound family.

Less activity has provided me with a lot of time to reflect and be still. In this season of upheaval that has been the best thing for my soul. God has given me plenty of space to examine, dream and pray about the year we left behind and about the year ahead. I wonder about the church and it’s role in our family and also in this culture. I wonder about politics and how we got to this place and how I can train my kids to do better. I wonder about social media and it’s impact on my life and my daughter’s life. But mostly I wonder how I could do and say things differently to ensure that we grow good things and let go of the things that steal our soul, even as we begin to venture back out into the world.

If you’re familiar with Instagram you know that adding a filter to a photo is super simple. In a split second it’s possible to transform a picture to add drama or tone. As I look back on the last 12 months I think it’s possible that I allowed that to happen in my life and God used 2020 to hold up a mirror to show me exactly how bad it was. God stripped off the filters and revealed my life through his eyes.

My word for 2020 was joy. I walked into the year with big expectations. I was hoping for God to use 2020 to heap abundant joy into my life. Which is hilarious when you think about it because in less than three months all the things we knew as “normal” were turned upside-down. One-on-one coffee dates were gone, hug were gone, sports were gone, school was gone and alone time was a thing of the past. All things that had previously brought me joy. And yet, I experienced abundant joy in 2020 in part because all of those things were stripped away.

I watched the sunset more. I walked more. I cooked more. I saw my husband more. I did more puzzles with my family. We watched movies together and laughed together. I grew friendships in 2020 that I hope to keep for a lifetime. At the end of 2020 I am a better version of me than I was at the beginning of the year; more prone to choose joy; God’s joy, to look for it and acknowledge it. These things were always available to me, but I’d allowed layers upon layers of busyness and stuff to filter them out.

It wasn’t just the busyness in my life that prevented me from experiencing joy, it was the opinions and expectations of others that I heaped on myself that stole joy. I had allowed joy to be filtered out.

When the whole world changed last spring I spent a lot more time reading news on my phone. I clicked on various websites to stay informed on what was happening in our country-with regards to COVID but also in Washington and with protests. I believed that my voice mattered and I needed to take a stance. I am pretty opinionated and all of it made me angry. The filter of news over my own life experience resulted in high drama in my soul, anxiousness in my heart and it suffocated joy.

At some point last fall I made one step to make a shift. I stopped logging into Facebook. Now, instead of listening to my friends (whom I LOVE) tell me what was important to pay attention to, I started to pay attention to the people standing right in front of me. As the anxiety eased, I recognized the role that the constant news updates were having on my anxious heart and I began to limit time spent scouring for new stories. I spent more time listening to music or doing puzzles. The shift was slow but sure. The more “static” I cut out of my life the more space I afforded the Holy Spirit to speak. And the Holy Spirit has been so loud. I’ve heard correction and encouragement. I’ve been given my word for 2021 and even a mission for my next steps. Most importantly, the stillness in my life has helped me to see that my small everyday life, one that is not flashy or perfect, brings the most unspeakable joy when it is spent in tune with God.

I don’t think social media is evil. Nor do I think staying up to date on the news is inherently bad. But they can steal our joy when we allow either of them to be the filter of our lives. This season has afforded us an amazing opportunity to hit pause and ask ourselves, who or what is controlling the narrative? Is it possible that we’ve allowed a filter of drama or fear to steal the reality of what is actually true in our lives? Have we removed the bold colors of an orange sunset against the backdrop of a deep blue sky by adding a filter that transforms our lives to gray?

I have a new practice in my day. My word for 2021 is beauty and so each day I look for it. It might be the gorgeous bloom of my Christmas amaryllis, or how my puppy looks as she sleeps belly up basking in the sun. I’ve seen beauty in the life of a friend who fosters and I’ve heard it as a friend shares with me her train of thought as she sizzles brunch on the stove.

Each of our lives is filled with beauty and joy. The challenge we all face is, can we see it?

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I had no idea. Last week, when I encouraged us to pray the dangerous prayer I had no idea that our world was on the verge of such uncertainty. Between the Coronavirus risk, the ensuing quarantine/ cancellations and the stock market swings, it feels like life just got turned upside down. All of the things that I thought were sure and steady don’t feel sure or steady any more.

I’d be lying if I said that in all of this uncertainty I am not anxious. I have my moments. Times where my chest feels tight or my heart races. Picking up my phone to check for notifications is a nervous habit. Since my phone tracks pick ups I can quantify how often I feel anxious and tell you that it’s often. I play worst case scenarios in my head. My imagination has a lot of options of bad things that could happen.

But lately I’ve been thinking about hope.

Where do I place my hope? The last seven days has shown me all of the places where I have misplaced my hope. I know that God is in control and that he’s not surprised by this. That’s never been a question. But I find myself praying a prayer that goes something like this… “God, if you will make XYZ happen, then I’ll feel better.” Or, “God, I know that you are good and that you are in control. Don’t you think that THIS should happen now? It will bring you glory (not to mention make me feel better.)” Right now I’m imagining God shaking his head and smiling at me.

Perhaps you’ve prayed something similar.

These days I’m reading the book of Job often. In the very beginning we learn all about him. He does all the right things, he fears God and shuns evil. He’s also a caring father, and a successful businessman and he honors God in all of it. He would probably say something similar to “God is in control and he is good.” Job wasn’t doing anything wrong and yet the rest of the book exposes that Job misplaced his hope.

“What I feared has come upon me;
what I dreaded has happened to me.
I have no peace, no quietness;
I have no rest, but only turmoil.” Job 3:25-26.

That’s how Job feels when all of his wealth, health and happy family is stripped away.

Contrast this to what James (Jesus’ half brother) says in James 2:2-4. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

I’m not suggesting we can’t acknowledge very real suffering and grieve losses. It is good to grieve. To remember the good that God had given to us and to mourn when that good is gone. Yet there is a difference between the grief of losing something we loved and the way that we feel when we lose something in which we’d placed our hope. My anxious feelings have been revealing that I’m grieving something in which I’d placed my hope.

Is God using this period in time to expose where you have misplaced your hope?

We don’t know how this will turn out. We are not promised health, or wealth or a happy family. We aren’t promised that we won’t face hard things. Hard choices, hard losses, hard conversations. But we have to remember that what we are losing is not where our hope is found.

Psalm 46

For the director of music. Of the Sons of Korah. According to alamoth. A song.

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

What does this look like in the very real uncertainty of today?

It means we pray first. We identify what is causing us to be anxious and we talk to God about it. We tell him all of our fears, we confess where we’ve placed our hope and then we take a deep breath, a slow exhale and we turn it over to him. He knows we’ll pick it back up again later. And later we’ll have another opportunity to choose him again. And again and again.

It means we stop looking at what we’re losing and we start thinking about the gifts we’ve been given. For some of us that’s a LOT of unexpected family time. What are we doing with our time? Five years from now, when you know the outcome of this season, what will you wish that you had done with your kids?

We look to serve others; to offer compassion and care to those who need it. Make a phone call or FaceTime someone who is high risk. Offer to help an elderly neighbor by buying groceries. Be patient in the checkout line.

Above all, it means that we do not lose hope. We DO KNOW that God is in control and he is trustworthy.