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A little over a year ago I sat across the table from my brother at dinner. He wanted to update me on what was going on in his life — some super exciting things. 

I wanted to be happy for him and I think I honestly was but inwardly, I was trying to sort it all out. I didn’t feel happy for him.

“God is just so good” my brother said, He’s not good to me like that, I thought. 

I felt ashamed for even thinking it. Jealousy, doubt, pride, selfishness, questions, frustration swirled in my heart. (obviously there were other things going on that needed dealt with)

I knew God was good. I knew the truth of His word. I knew how He had demonstrated His faithfulness in the past. But my reality wasn’t lining up. Or, it wasn’t lining up the way I thought it should…

In my pride, I thought God owed me one; I thought my ideas were better than His. I wanted to know why life didn’t seem fair. Why a + b didn’t equal c.  

The answers didn’t come immediately. Eventually I forgot about that conversation. But God didn’t. 

Over the past year, the scriptures about God’s goodness have been jumping out at me. I didn’t go looking for them, I didn’t set out to study God’s goodness but in His kindness, He’s revealing it. 

The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing ~Ps. 34:10

The Lord God is a sun and a shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor; no good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly ~Ps. 84:11

Oh, how abundant is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you and worked for those who take refuge in you… ~Ps. 31:19

Slowly, my perspective began to shift. I began to see the Lord’s abundance in areas I had labeled as lack. I saw His provision in situations I had no control over. 

My circumstances didn’t really change much. And although I would count myself as an optimistic realist, it wasn’t as if I willed myself to “look on the bright side”— this isn’t some power of positive thinking thing. 

I really can’t say what caused the shift except for the Holy Spirit refining my heart and teaching me to rest in Him.  

The night I sat across from my brother, it wasn’t just my body that was hungry, my soul was too. I was weary and operating from a scarcity mentality; I wanted to be justified. As I compared my life to my brother’s (bad idea in the first place), all I saw were my areas of lack. Spiritually, I was starving for some reassurance of God’s sufficiency.

Thankfully, this isn’t a new phenomena but something God’s people have experienced for millennia.

In chapter 31 of Jeremiah, the prophet, reminds Israel that exile will not last forever, the Lord is faithful, and redemption + restoration is promised. He says God’s people “shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord”…and God promises, “I will feast the soul of the priests with abundance, and my people shall be satisfied with my goodness” ~Jer. 31:14

The Psalmist reminds us of this promise,

For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul He fills with good things ~Ps. 107:9

Then Jesus takes it a little further in the Sermon on the Mount

Blessed are the who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied ~Matt. 5:6

Our longings for “how things should be” echo God’s desire for a restored world. It’s not wrong to feel disappointed or to ask why things don’t seem to be lining up as we expected. But how we steward these feelings and frustrations can have an impact on the trajectory of our next steps.

Our doubt of God’s goodness, reveals where our heart seeks fulfillment. It forces us to reevaluate expectations. Am I trusting God’s goodness because my external environment validates my standard of good? Or am I trusting God’s goodness because HE is the standard of good?

My circumstances do not dictate God’s goodness. Conversely, God’s goodness does not dictate my circumstances.

David writes in Psalm 13: “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me. (v. 2). And later, the author of Psalm 116 (possibly David again), preaches to their own heart saying, “Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you” (v. 7).

Recognizing God’s goodness is a process of surrender; placing our hope in the One who holds all things together. It’s trusting that He does have a plan and realizing our sight is limited.

Looking at the context of the scriptures at the beginning of this post, it seems there is a direct correlation between fixing our eyes, minds, and hearts on the Lord and recognizing His goodness. Psalm 27 for example:

I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living ~Ps. 27:13

This comes after David has declared God to be His protector and asked for mercy. It comes after He emphasizes His desire to follow the Lord wholeheartedly “One thing I ask…your face, Lord, I will seek” (v. 4, 8)

When we see Him for the all-powerful, all-knowing, perfectly righteous, impeccably just, Creator who is worthy of all, our eyes are opened to His goodness and grace.

We’ll never see God’s goodness if we’re looking inward, holding on to our ideas of how the world should be. But if we truly trust we can say with the Psalmist, “You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing”  and “The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance (Ps. 16:2, 5,6)

The other night we were singing Goodness of God and I was thinking about how God had really shown me His goodness over the past year. My heart was agreeing with the lyrics when I remembered the conversation I had with my brother 18 months ago. 

God really is good. God really is kind. 

Because He, Himself, is good — It’s in His nature

May we remember in the ebb and flow of our everyday that the Lord’s goodness is constant. May He open our hearts to see His abundance. And may our souls find rest in trusting Him. Let us praise Him for what He has done and hope in His name, for His name is good (Ps. 52:9)

“Live the life that unfolds before you” — the prophet character in Jonathan Rogers’ Bark of the Bog Owl exhorts the protagonist with this phrase four times in two pages and I felt like he was speaking to me. I was out of town for a guest teaching gig and finding myself distracted by the days ahead, things that needed to be planned, potential opportunities, and hypotheticals that are better left unexplored.

I’m reminded that all I have is the current moment in which my physical body finds itself within time and space. This present is meant to be lived in; to be stewarded well.

As Tim Willard writes in The Beauty Chasers (highly recommended read btw) “I realized”… “that for much of my life, I’d looked ahead to the next thing instead of being in the moment. True life, I discovered, is recognizing the moment of glory when you’re standing smack-dab in it. Don’t look ahead. Be here, now. See this moment for what it is…”

It’s a lesson that I’m reminded of every few years. 

In my enthusiasm to live fully and steward my time on earth well, perhaps I’ve reduced life to a series of events deemed worthy societal accomplishments + personal bucket list items.

It’s easy to see life as a to-do list and it feels good to check off those boxes. Or even to see myself as a princess warrior charging the hill of life’s challenges determined to slay the dragons in my way.

But maybe life is not meant to be conquered. Maybe it’s simply meant to be lived.

Because eventually the adrenaline high will wear off, the memory will be pegged, the resume updated, and the cycle will start over.

These ambitions are not bad in and of themselves, yet when I race from one to the next, I find myself missing the process. What if I chose to linger in the moment instead of seeing the task at hand as simply a means to an end? 

Hebrews 12 exhorts us to run this race with endurance. Endurance requires patience; it’s not just a series of little sprints from one thing to the next. These little goals are the pathway of faithfulness, by which we bring God glory, as we fix our eyes on Jesus. 

May we live this life that unfolds before us —resisting the what-ifs — seeing, savoring, and trusting that our times are in His hands. We’re exactly where He needs us to be.

May we persevere towards our destinations with determined intention yet not at the expense of missing the landscape and love along the way. Let us seek the beauty in the in-between and savor the journey of this life adventure; that at the end we might hear “well done, good and faithful servant.” 

In Exodus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, God commands His people to “remember” over 15 times.

“Remember the Lord your God brought you out [of Egypt]” (Deut 5:15), “remember what the Lord your God did to Pharaoh” (Deut. 7:18), “Remember…that the Lord your God has led you these forty years” (Deut 8:2), “Remember…Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob…” (Deut. 9:27)

Yet, over and over again, we see the Israelites grumbling. “We’re thirsty. We’re don’t like this food. Moses, why did you bring us here. It would be better to go back to Egypt!”  (my paraphrase of Numbers 14:2-3, Numbers 21:4b-5) The complaints even warrant physical consequences at some points like fire from the sky and poisonous snake bites (Numbers 11:1, 21:6). Yikes!

It’s easy to look at the Israelites and think “How could they complain? God literally split the Red Sea, defeated Pharaoh’s army, and made food fall from the sky!” Nehemiah 9:21 even says their clothes didn’t wear out and they “lacked nothing”

But then I remember how often I grumble myself. The temperature in this room is too cold, gas prices are so high, the neighbor’s dogs won’t be quiet, if only my students would listen and follow directions, why don’t I have a boyfriend?, traffic is so bad, we have to wear these annoying masks, our refrigerator has been broken for a month and we don’t have any ice! — the list goes on and on.  

And I realize I’m not much different than the Israelites. We’re both on a journey. God has spoken promises to both of us. And we’ve both forgotten.

The New Testament doesn’t beat around the bush. “Do all things without grumbling or disputing” (Phil. 2:14); some translations say “Do all things without complaining or arguing” A few chapters later, we see how to tangibly do this. In both Phillippians 4:4-7 and 1 Thessalonians 5:16,18 we are exhorted to “rejoice always” and “give thanks”

It’s the same command from a different angle. Remember. 

Remember there is One worthy of worship. Remember He is the Giver of Good Gifts. Take the focus off of what seems to be looming in front of you and remember the bigger story.

You see, our outward circumstances do not dictate our “right” to be discontent. If anything, they reveal where we are finding our peace and placing our hope. When we grumble and complain we forget the Lord’s faithfulness and are blind to His provision. In a way, complaining is another form of worry; it’s lamenting a situation out of our control and choosing to be grumpy about it. Complaining is a distrust of God’s goodness and His ways. 

Secondly, grumbling blinds us to the needs of others. How often do we complain about something someone else might be longing for. This room might be chilly but somewhere closer to the equator, people are living without air conditioning. Gas prices might be high but I have a car to put it in. My students may be stretching my patience but what a gift that we have facilities to dance in. Your kids may leave legos on the floor yet how many people are longing for a child? When I am focused on why my life is inconvenienced, I can’t see ways to serve those around me.

Anne of Green Gables says “There are ever so many bright sides” And I agree with her on most days; we can find them if we look. I’m not saying that we should ignore the seemingly crumby parts of our circumstances nor should we pursue a false sense of optimism. I’m encouraging us (myself, most of all) to remember. To resist the temptation to complain and choose to find contentment in Him —even in the wilderness.

He makes us lie down in green pastures
He leads us besides still waters.
In Him we lack nothing (Ps. 23:1,2). 
He makes the boundary lines fall for us in pleasant places (Ps. 16:6)

Let us choose to remember His faithfulness. Let us remember the One who really did have every “right” to complain but didn’t. The One who instead sacrificed His life for us and asked us to remember in the bread and the wine (Lk. 22:19). And in our remembering, let us look beyond ourselves to the needs of others. For He is our hope and peace; and will lead us to the Promised Land.

Whimsy in the waiting.
Magic in the moment.
Majesty in the mundane.

When patience is waning.
And the world seems hell-bent.
The choices remain.

To succumb to complaining.
Or perhaps cry lament.
These days did God ordain?

Yet with hearts of thanksgiving
We persevere till we’re spent
Knowing there’s eternal gain.

We’ll choose to keep dancing.
Our eyes with a glint.
This sacred grace we won’t profane.

Whimsy in the waiting.
Magic in the moment.
Majesty in the mundane.

At the appointed time…

These words have stood out to me this advent season. 

Time is a curious thing. Our brains, amazing as they are, can’t quite grasp the concept of existence without time. Yet, for God, this container of time and space is His invention! He’s always existed outside of time. (I can’t even write that sentence without a time/space marker to describe the situation). 

“In the beginning…” the first words of scripture. Eternity interrupted. The clock starts ticking. The heavens and earth and all their inhabitants are introduced to the concept of waiting. 

Starting with the creation of Eve (Gen. 2:18), we see God declaring “I will…”. These promises refer to things He will do (like bring justice and judgment) and things he will never do (like flood the earth again). As the Grand Narrative unfolds, we begin to see some of these promises fulfilled. The “I wills…” become markers of His faithfulness.

But there’s that idea of time again. The only way we are able to see these is because we are removed from the events. Think about what it might have been like to be in the moment.

Sarah, in her nineties, with a barren womb, remembering God’s words to her husband, Abraham, “I will make you a great nation…” (Gen 12:2). She overhears the Lord reminding Abraham of this promise and laughs. I don’t really blame her, I probably would have laughed too; the situation seems impossible, she was being realistic. Yet God says, “Is anything too hard for the Lord? At the appointed time I will return to you, about this time next year, and Sarah shall have a son” (Gen. 18:14). 

Or Habakkuk having a conversation with God on behalf of Israel. The Assyrians had captured the Northern Kingdom of Israel. Culturally, the Israelites had strayed from the commands of God while at the same time were suffering injustice and oppression. “Why do you…remain silent when the wicked swallows up the man more righteous than he?” Habakkuk asks (Hab. 1:13). The Lord answers him “For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end — it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay” (Hab. 2:3).

A lot of us find ourselves in similar positions—waiting and hoping for something that seems impossible. We can relate to Sarah and Habakkuk. Yet, we also know what happens next in their stories. From this perspective of history, we’re able to see the greatest promise of God fulfilled to date. “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal. 4:4,5). 

Jesus! The Savior of the world…at the appointed time…

Ecclesiastes 3:11 reminds us, “He has made everything beautiful in its time” isn’t that really comforting? Solomon goes on to say, “Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end”

Eternity. Our innate knowledge of it magnifies mysteries and makes us keenly aware of our limitations within this time-container. Eternity in our hearts introduces us to the concept of hope. And where we place our hope, determines how well we wait.

If you ask me what I’m waiting for, I would say without hesitation “A husband!”— your answer might be, “a job, healing, a restored relationship, a child,” or something else. All of those things are good and valid things to desire. But I’ve realized that if we zoom out, we’re really waiting for something deeper—Jesus! He is the hope that will never disappoint! These yearnings we feel as we wait on Earth are echoes of our yearnings for eternity. The desires we long for may not be fulfilled like we imagine but we can know they will one day be fully satisfied in the consummation of all things. 

…at the appointed time…

It’s hard. It’s painful. It’s tempting to take matters into our own hands. Or to wallow in the cynicism and disappointment of hope misplaced. Friends, I am with you. Let us pray with David in Psalm 31:14,15, “But I trust in you, O Lord’ I say, “You are my God” My times are in your hand;…”

As we live in this tension between the now and not yet, let us persevere. In the waiting He is working and asks us to join Him. The posture of our hearts correlates to our patience. A heart that recognizes “He [God] changes the times and the seasons…” (Dan. 2:21a) can steward the time in hope rather than strive to gain what we feel is missing. An impatient heart looks inward, viewing everything through the lens of serving the self whereas a surrendered heart is soil for the Spirit to cultivate the fruit of patience.

And maybe, just maybe, God has a reason for those unfulfilled dreams. “But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the lord one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:8,9) Perhaps this space between desires realized is providing precious time for us to trust, obey, seek peace, and share the good news. For one day these minutes and hours will cease.

Our God is a Promise Keeper.
He will come again.
All will be made right and these deepest desires fulfilled…

…at the appointed time. 

Dance is a communal art — it’s meant to be shared and experienced in the flesh together. 

Even though I knew this, I didn’t really realize it until the pandemic lockdowns. On one hand, it was cool to take class “with” friends miles away but eventually, the novelty of it wore off and I began to crave the fellowship a shared studio brings. How you can walk into the studio still half asleep, nod good morning to the friend across the room, drop your five different bags of stuff (because why can’t dancers just have one?), pop your hips, and proceed to loosen your IT bands on the foam roller all without saying a word. The subtle, wordless communication that happens as you figure out who’s going in what group across the floor. You’re all working hard individually, thinking about your own corrections. Cheering each other on and whispering “nice!” when your friend hits that quadruple pirouette in the waltz combo or commiserating as you all fight for that eight count developpe. 

And it’s not just class, it’s performances too. The dancers on stage, the orchestra in the pit, the stage crew in the shadows, the audience in the house — all experiencing the same thing from different perspectives. Each person stepping into their unique role of the process. 

Just as dance is a communal art, life is the same. This adventure is meant to be lived in community. 

Sometimes it seems easier/safer/less messy/more convenient to keep dancing as if we were a one man show — to isolate our selfish solos in a single spotlight. I confess I have a tendency to do this sometimes; for reasons either real or imagined, I’ll avoid the people that point me to Jesus. It may feel good in the moment, but is it easier in the long run? nope, that’s a big fat lie from the Enemy. 

Think about it in terms of a performance, a solo act can only go on for so long before the artist needs a rest. It’s also only as dimensional as that one person, we might be super engaged but we’re only experiencing a little bit of the story. When an entire cast and crew and orchestra are working together, we get a production with depth, scope, and perspective.

I was thinking about how life in community is like a dance. Sometimes the choreography will take you close to someone for a while, maybe in a little pas de trios or pas de quat but then other times you may just be standing on the side in b+ smiling across the stage at each other. There are seasons of life that we will be in close proximity and deep friendships with each other, then there are other seasons where we’re so focused on our own choreography and spacing that we have no idea what someone else’s is. I think that’s ok as long as we’re letting the Master Choreographer, as long as we’re letting Jesus, direct the show. 

All that to say, what the writer of Hebrews says in chapter 10 verses 23-25: Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on to love and good deeds, not  giving up meeting together as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another — and all the more as you see the Day approaching. 

Friends, may we bravely share the stories we carry and realize the unique steps we dance are part of the Grand Choreography. May we wisely discern which dancers to stay in proximity with, who to whisper reminders to, and who to smile at from across the stage. 

For these many bodies form one Body. And the Story only makes sense when this mosaic of souls courageously + humbly experience the Music together.

Every day.
Your Kingdom come.
Your will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.

Every day.
Opening these hands.
In surrender and offering.
Hope{full} trust

Every day.
Sober minded.
Seeking good.
Set apart.

Every day.
Recognizing the Imago Dei in others
To serve not to be served.
Remembering eternity.

Every day.
Choosing joy.
Patient endurance.
Taking courage.
Making peace.

Every day.
Resting in your grace.
Listening to your voice.
Trading my plans for yours.

Every day.
Stewarding the moment.
Step by step.
Steadfastly faithful.

Every day.
Your Kingdom come.
Your will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.

Recently, I found myself in a situation where I was feeling like my gifts hadn’t been used to their fullest extent; that I had more to offer but there wasn’t an appropriate time or place to do so. I began to think that maybe I had wasted an opportunity because, in my mind, I wanted to be most efficient and effective in a short amount of time.

As I sorted it out internally, God gently reminded me to lay aside my pride: who am I to say how I’m most “effective” for the Kingdom? All He asks me to do is to steward the moments that I am given.

Yes, I should be diligent to prepare towards the tasks He is calling me to, but just because I can or I’m “qualified” to do certain things doesn’t mean I’m supposed to in every single circumstance. 

The burden of determining the results of our faithfulness does not lay on our shoulders. May we be freed from the prideful lie to think otherwise. 

Let us rest in the grace that allows us to leverage the current moment with excellence. May we resist the treadmill of feeling like we didn’t “do enough” and instead trust that He is enough.

Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom…May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the works of our hands for us — yes, establish the works of our hands ~Ps. 90:12,17

For the past year and a half, I think we’ve all experienced a heightened sense of trepidation. It’s a daily battle to distinguish truth from falsehood and fear is a valid emotional response that needs to be acknowledged.

Psalm 34:4 has been on my mind, “He delivered me from all my fears…”

I’m realizing that, at it’s root, fear is a lie 
Fear is a lie of scarcity.

Fear says there’s not enough.
God says, “those who seek the Lord lack no good thing” (Ps. 34:10)

Fear says, “I can’t handle it”
God says, “My grace is sufficient and I have given you everything you need for life in godliness” (2 Cor. 12:9, 2 Peter 1:3)

Fear says “I need to have it all figured out”
God says, “My burden is light; trust me and I will direct your steps” (Matt. 11:28-30, Pr. 3:5-6)

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! (Ps. 34:8)

In Him is abundance.
Life abundant.
Resources abundant.
Grace abundant.

It doesn’t mean we won’t experience hardship. Many are the afflictions of the righteous and in this world we will have trouble (Ps. 34:19, Jn. 16:33).

It’s the juxtaposition of now and not yet.

There is sweet in the bitter.
There is joy in the pain.
A letting go to grasp hold of.

As we persevere in this yearning for eternity we get glimpses of glory to come.

Let us remember: where fear whispers “what if” He says, “I am”. May we not let fear obscure our eternal perspective but may His joy be our strength to freely + courageously step into the good works He has prepared for us. 

A lot of the time I share Peter Pan’s sentiments when he emphatically sings “I won’t grow up.” And I think, to a degree, that’s a healthy attitude to have as we fight to maintain a childlike wonder + curiosity in a broken world.

Yet, often it’s led me to mourn getting older as if it were a bad thing.

Lately, I’ve realized more keenly the perspective age can bring. Nearing the end of my twenties, I’m starting to see the fruit of seeds sown in intentionality and God’s faithfulness is coming to life in a whole new way. Though it can be bitter to leave certain seasons behind, this life adventure only gets sweeter. Growing up isn’t all that bad.

Friends, may we continue to find the magic in the world + grace in the moment, fixing our eyes on Jesus as we faithfully steward the time and take hold of the abundant life found in Him