The Struggle


After about a week of just quietness and resting, I started to turn to music.

I was desperate for comfort, for hope, and for truth.  I started listening to some amazing Christian songs.  Raw.  Gritty.  Real.  Songs that are almost organic in how they dig down into the angst and struggles that sometimes come to His people.  Songs that reached into the struggle.  Songs that were real.

I love what Randy Alcorn said in If God Is Good.  “Laments make up more than one-third of the psalms.  The contrast between Israel’s hymnbook and the church’s says a great deal about our failure to acknowledge suffering.  If we don’t sing about suffering and struggle, why shouldn’t our people feel surprised when it comes?”

Enter The Struggle by Tenth Avenue North.  I don’t know how many times I listened to it.  Lots.  It is still one of my favorites and often brings me to tears.

“Hallelujah!  We are free to struggle.  We’re not struggling to be free.”

For quite a while, that was the only part of the song I could remember.  I sang it over and over.  Finally I pulled it up on YouTube and watched the lyrics video.  I remember one day that I sat on the couch, hands lifted, tears pouring from my eyes.

This.  This.  We are free to struggle, but we’re not struggling to be free.  Hallelujah!

“Your blood bought and makes us children.  Children drop your chains and sing!”

And then I realized.  That was me.  I was that child whose chains had been broken.  And yet I was living as if I was still shackled.  A clear image came to mind of me sitting on the ground, weeping in deep anguish, slashing the air like a mad woman, chains rattling and clanking every time I moved.  And then I saw it.  Those chains binding me were severed.  They were not attached to anything.  I had picked up those chains and I was holding them myself.

God had freed me.  His Word is truth.  Because I confess with my mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in my heart that He rose from the dead, those chains do not bind me.

Or to go back to the analogy of drowning from my first post….I have been sputtering around, thrashing wildly, clawing at the rope…..while sitting firmly on the deck of the boat.  I wasn’t drowning.  I was safe.  I was secure the whole time.



I didn’t dissect.  I didn’t try to start running ahead and putting other pieces together in my head, based on what I already knew the Bible was saying.  I waited.  I held on to this truth.  Clung to it.  And waited to see where it would take me.

Part One Part Two Part Three
Part Four Part Five



Learning to Unlearn


And so I stopped.  I stopped thinking.  I stopped analyzing.  I stopped reading my Bible.

I know that this part of my story especially might be cause for alarm for some people.  “The Bible??” you might say.  “That is the very thing you NEED.  Don’t stop….keep reading!!”  And in answer….I honestly have no answer.  I cannot explain how much I needed to take a break.  I was not turning my back on God.  I was not rejecting the Bible.  I just couldn’t handle it.

I didn’t like when I read the Bible or people gave me “godly advice.”  It felt like a band aid on a severed limb.  Or salt on an open wound.  I knew it.  I knew that Bible passage.  I knew the truth.

I loved this post.  I was surprised and so very encouraged to know that I wasn’t alone in this.

Perhaps instead of rebuilding another structure of spirituality to replace the one I lost, this is a time for living without the structure. A time for learning to unlearn.


That is what I needed.  I needed to unlearn.  So I stepped back and hit pause on all of my searching, yearning, and striving.  I needed to detox from the Bible that I thought I knew so well.  Detox from religion.  Detox from the guilt.

In the next few posts I will share a few of the things that really spoke to me.



Part One Part Two Part Three
Part Four


The Death of Trying



I was so weary.  Just plain weary.  Would it ever get better?  Could it?  How could I make changes?  How could I get out of this….mire?

As I mentioned previously, it all ended up coming to a point when my Christian world came tumbling down.

So much of what I thought I believed came into question.  In actuality, some things had slowly been changing for years.  My beliefs on all sorts of things, such as modesty, courtship, and music had changed drastically.

But I thought that I was pretty evenly balanced.  God had radically changed my beliefs and been convicting me that life is truly just about pursuing Him.

So I was surprised….no, shocked….when I realized God wasn’t done yet.  I started realizing so many ways that I had been believing lies.  Big lies.  Little lies.  About myself.  About God.  About Christianity.

I felt like I was in a tailspin.  How in the world do you process stuff like that??  How do you deal when everything is changing?

I went to the doctor.  I was evaluated for Post Partum Depression.  But I didn’t want a label.  I didn’t want medication.  I wanted my soul to be at peace.  (Note: I definitely think that PPD is real and legitimate and I do think that there is a proper time and place for medication for depression.  However, I felt that, for me, even if I did have PPD, my bigger problem was spiritual.)

The tipping point was one night when my husband and I were talking after our son had gone to bed.  I was in tears yet again, pouring out my anguish and desperately pleading for the truth.  My husband spoke the gospel to me.

“I know.  I know that.  I just….what if I’m not saved though?”

I’ll never forget what he said next.  “There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

My heart broke.  I was stunned.  I felt so alone.

And then I said, “I’m done.  I’m done trying to figure it out.  If I’m not a Christian, so be it.  If I am, so be it.”

And that ended our conversation that night.

Within a few minutes of saying that, I felt…..calmness.  Peace.  But I didn’t think about it.  I didn’t think about anything.  I just waited.  I knew that I could not let myself start immediately analyzing like I had done in the past.  I couldn’t get caught up in “figuring out” if it was genuine or false peace.

I stopped trying.  I stopped everything.  I determined to just live my life and see what happened.  I wasn’t going to analyze.  I wasn’t going to dissect.  I wasn’t going to try.  I backed off.  I was just….resting.

I let myself be real.  I dropped the pretense.  I owned who I was, sins and all.  I became more real than I think I have ever been.

And then I realized….that conversation with my husband…wasn’t discouraging.  He was right.  There was nothing he could do for me.  I knew that if anything was to be done, it could only be the work of God.

I knew that even though I had absolutely no idea what was going on or how to think or process…..God knew.  God knew my innermost thoughts, even when I was confused by them. God knew my heart.  He knew the true status of my salvation.  I did not need to scramble around like a mad woman, trying desperately to piece things together.

In a way I felt like I had shut my brain off.  But in reality….I was just resting.  I trusted that somehow God would continue to lead and guide me to the truth.

And then I waited.

Part One  Part Two  Part Three


The Stealth of Legalism


One time we were visiting at another church and the Sunday School class teacher was speaking about legalism.  I found some of the statements interesting.

The teacher said things like, “Legalism is about a checklist instead of reaching the heart.  You bristle under conviction.  You have rules rather than pleasing God.”

One of the class members spoke up and she said, “They never talk about love, grace, or forgiveness.  They just sit there heartless.”

We tend to think of the Pharisees as if they were hardened machines, and any legalists today are following in their footsteps.  While sometimes that is true….I think that a lot of times legalism can look a lot more innocuous.


Sometimes legalism is because you are trying to reach your heart.  Sometimes legalism is because you are under conviction.  Sometimes legalism is because you are desperately trying to please God.  Sometimes it is because you are so desperate for love, grace, and forgiveness.

I think that legalism can originate from right motives.  It isn’t always a pious, haughty “holier than thou” type of thing that is in your face.  I also tend to believe that legalism and judgmentalism don’t always go hand in hand.

Looking back I realize that I was legalistic.  All of my trying so hard to be a good Christian….that was legalism.  I was so desperate for the truth, so desperate to honor God, so desperate to do the right thing…..that I was legalistic.  Trying to maintain my right standing before God = legalism.  But just because I was trying so hard does not mean that I was looking down on other people or judging.

I desperately wanted a clean heart before God.  When communion time came I would feel so guilty and scared because what if there was some secret unconfessed sin? I would wrack my brain to try to think of everything and worry that there was something I was missing or something that I wasn’t even aware of that I couldn’t confess.  I would apologize over and over for the same things, waiting and desperately hoping that I would feel forgiven.

Sometimes it translated to other, smaller things, like in college when I was attempting to do the assigned reading.  I would read and re-read each page.  If I knew my mind wandered, I would read and re-read again, just to make sure I soaked in every word, thereby doing all the reading so that I could mark off in good conscience that I completed it.

It was terrible.  I hated it.

I apologized frequently to my husband for things.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”  And I don’t know how many times he told me, “Stop apologizing for things you didn’t do.”  I was so used to assuming that I was at fault and in the wrong because I spent so much time thinking and analyzing.

It was bondage.  It really was bondage that I was under.

After I had started to come out from this burden I placed myself under, I read this post.  It is beautiful and absolutely amazing.  Please take the time to read it.

Part One  Part Two




Drowning in the Questions


I knew I was a Christian.  After all, the Bible says, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.”  (Romans 10:9)

And, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”  (John 3:16)

I knew that.  I believed that.  And yet I doubted.  I struggled.  I worried.  I was absolutely terrified.  I felt horrible, weighty guilt.


I don’t know how many times I cried to my husband, trying to articulate what I was thinking and feeling.  And I don’t know how many times my sweet husband explained the gospel to me.  Over and over.  Speaking truth to me.

“Are you a Christian?” he would ask, after telling me yet again what the Bible says.

After a long pause, I often responded, “I hope so.”

Even typing this, my chest is gripped with that fear and weight.  I do not wish that kind of doubt, guilt, and fear on anyone.

So I was stuck.  I knew what the Bible said.  I believed the Bible.  So I knew I was a Christian.  And yet my sin plagued me.  How could a true Christian keep on sinning?  How could a real Christian keep on sinning the same exact sin?  How do I know that that last sin didn’t push God over the edge?  How do I know that God didn’t regret saving me?  How do I know He isn’t tired of me?

I tried.  I tried so hard.  I wanted so desperately to be a good Christian.  I spent hours thinking and analyzing and dissecting my thoughts, trying to figure out how to do better.  I tried to pray.  Pray hard.  I tried to pray for myself.  I tried to pray for others.  I tried to try hard to pray.  I tried to read my Bible.  I tried to read books by Christian authors. I tried to believe harder.  Love harder.  Have faith harder.  It all quite often just intensified the mental fog and thus the discouragement.

I hated disappointing people.  Nothing can tear my heart up more than knowing that someone is disappointed in me.  It breaks my heart to see the look of sadness on someone’s face and knowing that I caused it.  It tore me up to disappoint.  How can I be a good wife when I do x, y, or z?  How can I be a good Mom?  Friend?  Christian?

Don’t even get me started on faith vs. works.  I knew they went hand-in-hand…you can’t have one without the other.  But how does it work?  How do you have good works without…trying?  At what point do you know that your trying has become artificial works or legalism?  How do you strive without striving?  How do you work on your sins, faults, and blind spots, without it becoming an attempt to pull yourself up by your bootstraps?

I didn’t know.  But I hated it. I hated thinking. I hated trying to think.  I was so overwhelmed with trying.  And failing.  I became so discouraged.

I knew the answer was in the Bible.  I knew that His Word would point me to the truth.  But at the same time…I couldn’t read the Bible.  I definitely did not feel as if it was “living and active and sharper than a two-edged sword.” (Hebrews 4:12)  It wasn’t “working.”  I felt like any sermon I heard went in one ear….and either got lost in all the muddled confusion in my brain….or went straight out the other ear.  I didn’t know how to think.  I didn’t know how to process.  I didn’t know how to retain.

I looked back with longing at the years of my life that flourished spiritually.  Why can’t I have that again?  How do I get there?  How do I attain that again?

There were moments of peace.  Of joy.  It was absolutely amazing.  But then….how do I know if it’s real peace?  God’s peace?  Maybe I was deceiving myself and it’s false peace.  And the guilt would set in with a vengeance.  The fear.  The fear of relying on false peace was terrible to me.  I wanted genuine peace.  How do I know if it was genuine or false?

It all came to a point when my Christian world came tumbling down.  My next post will talk some about that story.

Part One




The water is everywhere.  My feet kick furiously trying desperately to keep my head above water.  The sky is so dark, the thunder so loud.  Suddenly, I am sucked under as a wave crashes against me.  My body is tugged and pulled in every direction as I fight, fight to reach the surface again.

Finally some air.  I gasp and breathe it in, hoping I won’t go under again.  Thrashing wildly, I claw at the water hoping to find something, anything.  A life vest.  A piece of wood.  Something.

Not too far away I can finally spy the boat.  How do I get there?  Every time I make progress toward it, the water pulls me back.  I scream, I cry, I yell, but the storm drowns out my cries.  Water pours into my mouth and I start choking.  Please.  Help me.

I am so weak.  I can’t go on.  I need to go on.  I need to get to that boat.  The water is suffocating.  The waves are so high.  I am stuck.  I will never be saved.

Out of nowhere, I suddenly feel a bit of the lifeline from the boat.  Rope.  I grab hold of it, but the waves are so strong it almost wrenches it from my grasp.  The tips of my fingers just barely hold on.  But I can’t let go.  I fight fight fight to keep that bit of rope.  I can’t let go.  I need this.  It’s my only chance of survival.  It’s the only way I can get to that boat.


Have you ever felt that way?  Have you ever felt like you were drowning and you were fighting to stay afloat?  I wish I didn’t have to admit this…..but I have.  I have had that terror grip my chest and the discouragement come in waves over me.  I have wondered how in the world I will keep going.  I have desperately wondered if there was any solution, if it would ever get better, or if I would ever see the light of day again.

I am somewhat scared to post this.  I am ashamed to admit it.  But I think that far too few Christians are open and honest.  I bet that if we were vulnerable with each other and shared our struggles, we would find out that there are many Christians who struggle this way.  Depression.  Doubts.  Fear.  Guilt.  Anxiety.

And so I share this with you.  I share it in the hope that someone might draw encouragement.  That someone might know that they are not alone.  That there is hope.

There were times where I felt like I was barely holding on to Christianity.  I didn’t know what was going on, how to process things, or how to even think.  My brain was in a fog and it was confusing to try to think through anything.  I felt like I was hanging onto my faith with white knuckles with all of my strength, trying desperately to not let go of the small hold I had on it.  My sins were the waves crashing against me and the doubts and fears and guilt were like rain pouring down and thunder crashing.

And so over the next few weeks I will share a bit of the struggle I have gone through and some of the ways God has brought me out and is continuing to bring me out.

May God get the glory!

Note: This is a pretty long blog series which I wrote last May/Juneish.  Since it’s so long, I’ll be breaking it up some with other posts. 🙂


In Which I Became an Adult and Don’t Have to Please Everybody


Legally I have been an adult for seven years.

Sometime in the past two years I have truly become an adult.

Life has literally flipped over.  In almost every way.  Much has come out to haunt me and plague my mind.  I have spent time wondering about much of my past.  I have many regrets about things that I was or was not able to do that affected how I was not really an adult sooner.

But the past is the past.  And honestly, the past has made me who I am today.  For that I am thankful.

I can’t put my finger on what it was that caused me to become an adult.  Obviously, getting married and having a baby served to catapult me into real adult life.  But  somewhere in between moving out of state, experiencing deep pain and emotional trauma, rethinking literally every thought that has come into my head, stripping away the old, tearing down preconceived ideas, learning what true Christianity is and so much more…..I became an adult.

One of the big changes is realizing that I do not have to please everyone.  Of course, I always knew that.  How many times have we all heard, “You can’t please everyone!”  I had put this burden on myself though.  I needed to obey and please everyone.  The right thing to do is to always concede to the other’s point of view (even if I argued my point, I “knew” I was wrong).  It would devastate me if I knew someone was disappointed in me.  I couldn’t bear the thought of letting people down.

But it is so true… cannot. please. everyone.  Nor should you.  I have come into my own and finally figured out some of who I am as a person and what I believe and think and feel.  Being an adult can also be quite alienating, as my beliefs and opinions are radically different from so many people.  In some ways, I am too liberal for the conservatives, and in other ways I am too conservative for the liberals.

My goal though is not to blend in.  My goal is not to go with the flow.  My goal is to honor the Lord and please Him.  My goal is to do what He has called me to do.  What He has called our family to do.

If that doesn’t look like anybody else, that is ok.  I don’t need to argue my point.  I don’t need to defer to others.  I don’t need to worry about offending people just because I am doing what I think is best.  I don’t even need people to understand my point of view.

It has been a hard journey.  But well worth it.  I am still learning how to own my beliefs and choices.  And I am know that while I must confidently own those decisions, I must not allow myself to become arrogant or self-righteous.

Life isn’t always what we would wish or hope for.  But we each have our unique, individual journeys.  Here we go on the start of a new chapter of mine!


On Loneliness and Friendship


A while back I participated in a link-up on a Christian Mom blog.  I was surprised to see how many posts had to do with loneliness and friendship….and I had only read the first dozen or so post titles.

It has struck me that loneliness is, unfortunately, a common problem.

I knew I was lonely.  But I thought I was somewhat alone in my aloneness.

Microsoft Image

My first move ever occurred when my amazing husband and I moved to TX, nine months after we were married.  Up until then I had lived in the same city my entire life and gone to the same church for about 18 years.  But I honestly didn’t mind moving.  It was great.  We loved being on our own and setting up our own home.  We loved our new life.

A year went by.  And then it hit me.  Last Christmas, a little over a year since we had moved, I started to feel lonely.  Disconnected from friends and family, I felt like no one knew what was going on in our lives and I was painfully aware of how much my life had changed.  And the people who meant the most to me were nowhere close to weep and rejoice with me.

When I was 12 I also went through a period of deep loneliness.  That was my first big life trial.  It was horribly difficult.  I remember God speaking so clearly to me, though, and drawing me to Him.  I found so much comfort from Hebrews 13:5, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”  I guess that I thought that hurdle was past.  Loneliness was no longer something that would plague me.

But, alas.  Not so. 🙂

Having a baby I believe was the greatest contributing factor.  My son was 5 months old and both sets of parents hadn’t seen him since he was 2 and 6 weeks old.  It hurt that they couldn’t see our son growing and getting older.

There were also some interesting moments with friends.  I was so lonely, so desperate for friendships, that I decided to get out of my comfort zone and start pursuing friends instead of waiting for someone to pursue me.  I knew that I needed to find people to be the Body of Christ to me and that I could be the Body of Christ to.  I initiated with three different people……and all three at first seemed to be excited to talk and we started to get to know each other…..but then, suddenly…it just stopped.  They stopped responding to me.

To be honest, I felt like I was in junior high again, as I analyzed every little word I had said.  Was I overbearing?  Did I sound mean?  Did I come across as desperate?  What is wrong with me?  Do people not like me?  What did I do wrong?  I would read and re-read the messages I sent, wondering what had been wrong with the words I said.

Thankfully, I was able to curb those thoughts before they ran too far.  I spoke the truth to myself.  All I can do is be myself and strive to encourage others.  Obviously there is some reason those friendships have not worked out.  Maybe they simply forgot to respond to my message.  Maybe they honestly didn’t feel like I was someone they wanted to get close with.  Maybe they had their own circle of friends and didn’t know the loneliness I was facing.  Whatever it was….being bitter was not the answer.

It took a couple months for me to realize what the answer is.  And it will sound like a cliche or a platitude but when it comes down to it, it is one of those simple truths that can blow your mind, rock your world, and change your life.

I knew that I needed to recognize my worth in Christ.

God brought so many verses to mind, like the passage in Hebrews I mentioned above, and all the verses about casting our cares upon Him, because He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7).  I was reminded that all I really truly need is the Lord.  He is my joy.  He is my delight.  He is my Friend who never leaves, never changes, and never stops being there for me.

I remember one time I told the Pilot that I knew God was my friend to whom I could tell anything….but I wanted a friend that could talk back.  I felt like I was just talking to space or a big empty wall.  The lack of dialogue or verbal response was hard.

And then I read Spoken For.  This small book was packed full of truths.  Truths about God’s deep love for me.  His pursuit of me.  His delight in me.  It calmed my heart and fed my soul as I realized that God is not empty space or a big blank wall.  He hears me.  He catches my tears in a bottle.  He cares.

I do still believe it is vitally important to be involved in community where you can be the hands and feet of Christ to other believers.  But right now I want to pursue God.  I know that as I follow Him, I will find community on earth as well.



On Being Real and Transparent about Motherhood


There seem to be two types of mothers.  I am about to generalize here, so bear with me.

The first type of mother LOVES motherhood.  After seeing her Facebook or having a conversation with her, you come away realizing her kids are always happy, her house is always clean, her husband delights in her as a wife and a Mom, and her heart is constantly overflowing with love and joy and peace.  The sun is always shining, the rainbow is always overhead.  Her Facebook is loaded with pictures of smiling children, calm outings, and beautiful family adventures.  When someone talks about a difficult day they have as a mom, this first type of mom thinks fondly of her perfect children.

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The second type of mother does NOT like motherhood.  After seeing her Facebook or having a conversation with her, you may come away realizing her kids are always crying and giving her attitude, she is always exhausted, her house is a wreck, her husband never helps, she’s tired of picking up toys, and her baby has colic.  Her Facebook is loaded with her venting about her difficult days or terrible nights of sleep.  When someone talks about looking forward to being a Mom or the good day they had, this type of mom will shake her head and say, “You just wait.”

little boy crying
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Obviously I added dramatic effect, but I bet almost all of us can think of a mom or two in each of those camps.

To be honest, I understand both sides.  There are some Moms who have beautiful, rosy days of motherhood.  There are some children who tend to be angelic.  But even those Moms have bad days.  No child is perfect.  No Mom is perfect.

How do you balance the two?

I still ponder that question.  I think that it is so important to be real and authentic.  Pretending that everything is rainbows and butterflies does no good.  It does nothing to prepare new mothers for reality.  Sometimes it even sets up new Moms to feel as if they can’t admit their struggles.  It does nothing for building the community of Christ.  It does nothing to develop realness and authenticity of living.  Being constantly down also does no good.  It does nothing to prepare new mothers for the excitement.  It doesn’t encourage or build up anyone.  It can drive wedges between people.  It can make people dislike or even dread being around you.

Balance is important.  As a new Mom myself, I have so appreciated the people who are real.  The people who are transparent.  The people who say, “Hey, today was really rough because my son was screaming for 3 hours straight.”  But then in their very next Facebook status they post a Mom and baby selfie, both smiling, along with the caption, “My heart is so full ❤ <3”

Real life motherhood has ups and downs.  When you embrace both and are unafraid to be vulnerable, great things can happen.  I strongly believe that it is often in those times of vulnerability and authenticity that God does great things.  Other Moms will be encouraged.  Perhaps God will prompt someone to come to you for advice, counsel, or prayers.  Maybe an older Mom will come to you and say, “Hey, I’ve been there.  Have you thought about trying this?” or even just, “I am praying for you!  You can do this and you are a great Mom!”

I am still figuring out how to balance these things.  I know that I never want to gossip about my children or share their sins or disobedience.  But I want to be real.  I need help, encouragement, and advice.  I want our kids to see that Mommy is human too.  Even Mommy has rough days.  It is beautiful when the body of Christ can come together in order to support and encourage.

And on the flip side….if you are a Mom, look for the opportunities to encourage other Moms.  I’ll give you a tip: No Mom’s life is perfect.  All kids can be pills and all Moms have bad days.  If a Mom comes to you needing to talk or vent or share a story, please be encouraging.  Saying, “welcome to motherhood” does nothing to build community or encourage.  Many times it can drive those hurting Moms away.  Reach out to other Moms, encourage them and let them know that they are doing an awesome job.  Remind them of the calling God has brought to them and how He will give continual grace and strength.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again….being a Mom has been the greatest and most difficult thing I have ever done.  I love it.  But it’s hard.  Let’s nurture the body of Christ and do this Mom thing together!


Linking up today with Hearts for Home, Share With Me, Grace at Home, and Thriving Thursday!

The Lord Directs Our Steps


Life is full of unknowns and uncertainties.  We are facing that in a big way once again.

In July, my amazing husband is graduating from pilot training, Lord willing.  I am SO proud of him and all of his hard work.  It has been an intense year, and I am so proud of him for making it through.

But….it is also in July where our future is decided.  In July we’ll have an event called drop night.  That is when the Pilot will find out what plane and what base he is assigned to.  And that will be the start of his career!!

It’s kind of strange to know that before the year is out we could be living just about anywhere.  We could be on the East Coast.  We could be in the Midwest.  We could be on the West Coast.  We could end up staying here at Laughlin.  We could even be in another country, like Japan or Germany.

I am reminded of how, before we moved to Laughlin, I prayed for months that God would bring us to the base He wanted us to be at.  That He would prepare us for the people He wanted us to meet.  That He would pick friends for us.  And I am convicted that I have only recently begun to pray for this upcoming momentous life event.

Our Bible study leader mentioned something that he was told as he was preparing for graduation from the Air Force Academy.  “The Air Force doesn’t send you places.  God does, because God controls the Air Force.”

I love that.

It’s so basic and yet so huge.

It is so comforting to know that we are not just in limbo.  That we do not have to anxiously await whatever “they” decide.  It is so encouraging to know that God not only knows our future, but that He is actively shaping it.

I rejoice to know that when I feel myself getting anxious over the unknowns that I can rest in the fact that our lives and our future are securely in God’s hands.

I can’t wait to see where God will take us next!