Where My Trust is Without Borders

by Kayla Cook 

My husband and I recently took our toddler to the beach. The first morning we went down to the beach, she loved it. We sat together at the edge of the surf, where the ocean kisses the sand. She laughed and played and was content sitting still and letting the ocean come to her. Until she wasn't. Soon, she was standing and splashing, running as far as she could into the ocean before I scooped her up. It was all of three toddler steps, but to her, she was all the way in. She squealed with delight and let the waves break right on her, content and trusting that I wouldn't let her fall. She ran on the beach and played happily with sand everywhere until it was time to go in.

Fast forward to the next day. The heat and humidity were higher, so we took her down to the beach in the evening, so she could enjoy it in the cooler part of the day. Except this time, she didn't enjoy it. She screamed and cried and wouldn't let us put her down. We still don't know why there was such a change.

While my husband was holding our girl, walking her around and trying to show her the beach and ocean she had so loved just one day earlier, I snapped a picture of the ocean. And just like any Christian millennial, I immediately started humming Hillsong's Oceans.

"Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders."

That night, our charming toddler got up around midnight, just as the grown ups were going to bed. She stayed awake until six in the morning. It was horrible. By the grace of God that she was happy and playing all those hours, but even so, it was exhausting. She finally crashed a little after six, after she and her daddy watched the sunrise, only sleeping a few hours before being up for the day. 

She was miserable because she was exhausted. Nothing would suit her. We tried again taking her to the beach that she loved so much our first day, and again, she screamed and cried. She was crying, I was crying- it was a disaster and did not feel anything like vacation. As I held her on the beach with tears on both of our faces, I felt my heart prick like it does when the Holy Spirit whispers, and I felt Him say: "This is where your trust is without borders."

"This is it? Crying while I hold my crying toddler on the beach- this is where my trust is without borders?"...Surely, I had misunderstood. Except He told me again once we were home, in the middle of an everyday toddler tantrum. "This is where your trust is without borders."

When I think about trusting God without borders, I think about doing something scary or exciting, and most definitely something big: moving across the world, changing careers, fostering or adopting children. But what if where my trust is without borders is in my mundane, everyday life?

See, I tend put God in this Big God Box. What I mean by that is this: I can trust God with the big things, like the ones I listed above, because to me, big things seem worthy of His hand. But exhausted parents and a grumpy toddler? Shouldn't I be able to just figure it out? There are big things that actually matter happening all around us- but the things that aren't a big deal, I just need to take care of, right?

Except I can't. I cannot do a single thing without Him. Over and over, I have to trust God for what I cannot do and what I cannot be. That is where I find my trust is without borders. It has less to do with what I'm doing and where I am, and it has more to do with being aware of what God's doing and where He is. And where He is? Well, He's with me. Always. That's not just a lovely sentiment (although it is also that)- it's gospel truth.

God saw me crying on the beach with a crying toddler. And He saw just as clearly and cared just as much then, when we were falling to pieces from being tired and grumpy, as He does on the days we face much harder things.

That's where I'm learning my trust is without borders: when I break down the Big God Box I've put Him in and invite Him into my every moment- big and small, joyful and sad, exciting and mundane.

He is Still Working Miracles {My I'm Pregnant Announcement}

by Hannah Clements

Someone asked me the other day if I was still writing. Here I am resurfacing from the wildest, fastest and most overwhelming ride of my life: motherhood. When I was walking through my season on barrenness, words flowed out of me with little to no effort. Something about being in my feelings makes me want to write. Now I am in a season of complete blessings, and I've got nothing. I blame it on being distracted by my precious 8 year old and/or the fact that I only have 50% at most of a working brain. The other 50% or greater is working on growing a baby. In all honesty, I am completely overwhelmed - overwhelmed with His goodness and overwhelmed in the other possible ways.

Over the past 10 months of learning to parent, Psalm 66 has resounded in my head. So much so just seeing the number “66” on a sign or out and about gives me encouragement. It is my current song.

Because God is good, I was able to sing through infertility. But now I get to “shout joyful praises to God, all the earth! Sing about the glory of his name! Tell the world how glorious he is.” Psalm 66 1-2 Dear friends, “come and see what our God has done, what awesome miracles he performs for people! He made a dry path through the Red Sea.” Psalm 66:6

I have so much to tell you about the awesome miracles He has performed in my little family's life. Nothing short of miracles here.

After over 4 years of trying to conceive: rounds of meds, 1 surgery, 5 unsuccessful IUIs, a bit of giving up and a dose of surrender - I am pregnant. A miracle.

But pregnancy didn't and could not happen until after, a few years of nudging my husband towards foster care, 30 hours of training, 257 pages of paper work, lots of prayers and an easy yes to an 8 year old little girl. A miracle.

A few weeks after we found out we were pregnant, we celebrated my daughter's 8th birthday (still holding the secret tight), I was cutting her cake and the Holy Spirit whispered - “this is what you waited for.” Without a doubt, we needed her. All the ways she came to be ours and who she is are miracles in themselves. I could write a book (once I regain brain consciousness, may be I will).

Shortly after she moved in, she quickly began praying for a “baby brother, baby sister, or baby twins.” We weren't really sure how God would answer that prayer - either through adoption or miraculous pregnancy, but we knew the prayer of a child is powerful. A couple months later and I am pregnant. Not because I “finally relaxed” or got my mom juices flowing, but simply and powerfully because God's timing had arrived and his miracle was performed. He heard her prayer.

There is more, but I still haven't processed it. Yet, I couldn't miss the opportunity to share with you of how God parted our "Red Sea". Dare I be like the Israelites and forget what God has done. For the Israelites, He parted the sea twice, performed miracle after miracle and they forgot to tell. Their devotion to God turned in to forgetfulness and idol worship. Dare I not tell you or generations yet to come. So here I am with limited brain capacity and all telling you “what awesome miracles God performs performs for his people.” He is still working miracles, folks. Believe it. I've lived it.

Don't miss your opportunity to share what God is doing in your life. Let's spread His miracles like wildfire.

Dear friend who is still waiting for your miracle,

I don't know why me and not you. I don't know why you are still waiting. But I pray one day the Holy Spirit will whisper to you “this is why you waited” and all will make sense. In the meantime, lean in. God is so good in the waiting and He alone satisfies. I am praying for you and hurting with you. He is near to the broken-hearted.

Seeing the Snake

by Andrea Noles

I sat in the quiet of a Monday afternoon. The sky a blanket of blue. The wind, a breath of perfection. The birds were singing harmony to the tune of the creek's slow ripple of Spring. And I was alone.

The rarity of beauty and quiet tuned my heart to sing His praise. I tipped my head backward in Thanksgiving and watched the birds circle above. I counted them. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7. As they sang and danced, I heard the whisper of the Father- perfection, rest, completion.

I wasn’t sure what that meant at that moment, but life has a way of revealing the truth from a distance. 

The moment felt Holy, so I opened the word and turned to I Corinthians. Surely Paul had something to say about perfection and peace and rest and completion. My eyes scanned for connection and landed on the word "sanctified". My mind attached synonyms-- righteous, set apart, holy, consecrated. All the good words that sometimes make us feel the width and depth of our sin.

I glanced to the right and from my left periphery and saw movement. A black and white streak of something long. My head jerked in fear and there it was, slithering right through my sacred little moment.

A snake.

I ran up the stairs, into the house, and then let out a scream of despair that caused my family to come sprinting towards me. They thought someone was dead.

After a good minute of reliving that slithery moment, I sat back down (far away from where I was) and wondered if there was something more to see. Maybe that snake needed to teach me something.

“Father, what do you want me to see?” I asked him.

He shouted, “See the snake, Andrea. See your sin and run from it.”

It’s funny how the Father, constantly brings me back to the mirror. Over and over again, he brings me back to the place where I can see who I am becoming. He brings me back to my heart and reminds me of how much help I need from His spirit.

Paul says in 1 Corinthians 2:10:

The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. 11 For who knows a person’s thoughts except their own spirit within them? In the same way no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. 12 What we have received is not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand what God has freely given us. 

When I hold up the mirror, I can decide there’s someone else I want to see there.
When I hold up the mirror to my heart and ask him for help, I begin to see more of His Nature.
I see him as Father. As redeemer. I see Him as my eternal gardener-- the one preparing a place for me.

A few weeks ago, I asked my Bible Club students to think about what question they would ask Jesus if he walked through the doors of Catawba Heights Elementary.

One student said, “I would ask Him what I will get to do with Him in Heaven.”

I was stunned at the beauty of this question. An eleven year old pondering the events that may play out with Jesus in glory.

He wants us to see.
First, he wants us to see Him in all things. To see his creation, his story intertwined.
He wants us to see the needs of others. He wants us to see Heaven on Earth, so we can bring His Kingdom into the lives of our neighbors, our family, our coworkers, our community.
Because when we can see, we can respond.
And when we respond to the call of Christ, the enemy flees.

But if we fail to see the snake, we fail to see who he wants us to become. Sanctification can’t do its Holy work if we aren’t willing to watch for the enemy and to listen for the lies he quickly spins into truth.

This is when we pray, “Father, reveal the truth. Give me wisdom to discern truth from lies. “

Everyone has a snake story and most of them involve sheer terror and high pitched screams, followed by a shovel blow to the head. Because the only kind of snake I like, is a dead one. And yes, I know the black snake takes care of things we don’t want in our yards.

But I DON’T CARE!
It’s slithery and sneaky and craftier than any other wild animals the Lord made.
 “So stay away from my home.”

In Genesis 3, sin slithers into the garden and whispers the first lie on earth, “Did God really say?”

If only they could have bit back at him and said, “As a matter of fact, yes, God did say, and we are following Him.”

But instead they bit the fruit and welcomed sin into the world.

Christians, the world needs our confidence. We need to declare boldly the truth of the gospel, and look sin square in the face and over and over again, say, “YES, GOD DID SAY!”

The snake’s head will be crushed.
Genesis 3:14-15 is God’s greatest comeback.

14 So the Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, “Cursed are you above all livestock and all wild animals! You will crawl on your belly and you will eat dust all the days of your life.15  And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring[a] and hers; he will crush[b] your head, and you will strike his heel.”

You'll Dance Again

by Jennifer Smith

Picture it. Me, 2014, and the release of the quintessential album (to me anyway) of Taylor Swift’s 1989. Why yes, I was a fully grown 33-year-old woman and did all the adulting that came with it, but this did not stop me from jetting to the store on release day (Children, this is when some of us actually still bought the shiny things called “compact discs”.), unwrapping the oh-my-gosh-will-this-ever-open shrink-wrapped plastic, and putting the album on repeat for the next several weeks.

Of this I am not ashamed. Your judgement means nothing to me.

It’s okay to be jealous of my husband for getting to be married to me. He loved listening to “Blank Space” on repeat throughout the month of November. (What am I thankful for this year? Catchy melodic hooks and lyrics like “Cause you know I love the players and you love the game”. I mean, this is living, folks.)

I drove down the road, windows rolled down in my sensible, middle-class mom Acadia and I danced. Danced in my seat and sang my heart out. You looking at me, Man-In-Tie, in your Mazda? I am jamming out to “Bad Blood”.

I have no shame in my Taylor Game. She is a genius.

And then… And then 2015 hit me with a sucker punch to the gut. Circumstances beyond my control made my life spiral into chaos where confusion, fear, and utter despair ruled.

There was no more dancing in the car. Instead there were gut wrenching, hot teared, cries to God in emotions and groans that only the Holy Spirit could understand.

It wasn’t just my body that stopped dancing. My heart stopped dancing too. There just wasn’t space for it. A blank space, indeed.

Y’all, these were the darkest years of my life. One day when I’m a bit further removed from it, I’ll tell you all about it. In a way I’m still in those dark years, but they are no longer pitch black, the days are no longer oppressive, and there is joy again.

During those blackest of black times I learned that light could still be found. I leaned very heavily on the knowledge that God was very near to me and my broken heart (Psalm 34) and I learned what it truly meant for Him to be a very PRESENT help in the time of trouble (Psalm 46). Because, He was. He was so very, very close.

I learned what Ecclesiastes meant by:

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
4     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

It was my time for mourning and I held close that one day it would be my time to dance again.

I’d like to tell you that one day the switch flipped and all the sad things just went away, but that would be untrue. There are very few times in life when pain and circumstances go immediately from bad to good. There is usually a gradual release while riding a roller coaster of emotional ups and downs before coming to a complete stop. The sad things now come with less intensity, but still sting nonetheless.

Friday I drove down the highway once again and put on an album I hadn’t listened to in a few years. Yep, you guessed it- 1989. I sang the songs and felt the joy in my heart. I was thankful to find myself once again in a place of dancing.

With that, however, I also know that there are still days of mourning ahead of me. That’s okay, too. Sometimes our “times” run concurrently. Because of God’s good, near, and dear presence we’re able to do things like dance in the rain, laugh through tears, and make lemonade out of lemons.

Friend, I want to whisper to you in your darkness today that you will dance again. That’s the beauty of life. It is cyclical in nature. We can’t ever believe in the lie that our time for joy has passed. If you have lost it, believe in the hope that it will come back around again. It’s just not time for it yet.

I will be honest and tell you my dark times have made my dancing look a little different. My heart is a little worn, a little jaded, a little tired. But the close companionship of the LORD and His strength and joy have made my heart fit for dancing through it all.

Whether you jam to Taylor like me or something much cooler (But really, is there anything cooler? For evidence see below.) and you feel the joy has left your step, don’t put away your dancing shoes just yet. Trust in God’s precious presence and believe what Peter said, “So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while.”

(She makes a snake turn into BUTTERFLIES, people!)

Keep Your Eyes on Your Own Paper

by Heidi Ashe

I’m hearing it a lot lately. 

Keep your eyes on your own paper. 
I’m a teacher so I’ve said it a million times over the past 16 years. 
Keep your eyes on your own paper.
But lately it’s coming to me in a different context.
Keep your eyes on your own paper.
Looking at that mom on Instagram who’s homeschooling and prepares a made from scratch organic meal three times a day and would never let a chemical come near her babies.
Keep your eyes on your own paper. 
She’s living her dream, you live yours.
Keep your eyes on your own paper.
Hearing that the girl down the hall got the promotion that you weren’t even sure you wanted.
Keep your eyes on your own paper.
God’s got a plan for you just as He does for her.
Keep your eyes on your own paper.

Why is it so hard sometimes? 
Why am I so concerned with what’s being written on everyone else’s pages?

When I step back and take a breath, I’m more able to see the blessings on my page. 

On a driveway walk two years ago, I quit the master’s program that I hadn’t actually started.  I had received my first syllabus that explained that there would be a lot more face to face online time than I had anticipated.  I was about to enter my fifteenth year of full-time teaching with a sixth grader, fourth grader, and kindergartner in my house.  My middle schooler had big sports plans, my fourth grader was adding another dance class to her repertoire, and hello, kindergartner, need I say more?  As I walked and prayed and tried my best to just breathe, I heard the Lord saying, “You aren’t going to want to miss this.”  It wasn’t an audible voice.  More like a knowing in my soul that this is what He had for me in this season, and it was good.  No it wouldn’t mean advancing my career.  But it would mean more family dinners, more game nights and more dance parties.  The career could wait.

A year and a half later and the girl that I was going to work through the program with is finishing up her degree.  I could not be happier for her.  And I couldn’t be more relieved for myself.  If ever there was a time that I am thanking the Lord for His wisdom, it is now.  I won’t be getting that pay raise.  I won’t be advancing myself professionally. But I’m right where I’m supposed to be. The time I’ve had these past 18 months with my husband and my kids, it’s not measured in degrees or dollar signs and I’m perfectly content with that. 

The thought occurred to me today though that that could be me.  I could be buying a cap and gown, preparing to walk across the stage in a ceremony that would surely make my dad proud.  But just as quickly as it came, I heard it again, keep your eyes on your own paper. 

God’s plan may not be exactly what you thought it was going to be.  But I promise it’ll be better.  How do I know?  Because Paul said in Ephesians that “He is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” and I’m holding on to that.

It's Just Sleeping

by Kayla Cook

When you pull onto our street and drive towards our house, there is a tree you can’t miss. I'm not a nature girl by any stretch, so believe me when I say you really can't miss it. It is in our front yard, kind of on the left corner of the house. It is old and tall, and reaches up to our roof and a little beyond.

For much of the spring, this tree looks completely dead.

It’s a little depressing, actually. While our grass is becoming greener, while our (albeit overgrown) rosebush is starting to bloom, when the woods behind our house are coming back to life- green after a gray winter...while all that is happening, this tree stands barren, looking exactly like it did in the dead of winter. You can’t miss it, and it isn’t because of its beauty.

I love this tree- it is my very favorite.

I love this tree because sometimes I feel like this tree.

I have felt barren when everyone and everything around me was blooming. After a long, dark season, when everyone else around me was moving and growing, I sat silently, unable to catch my breath and catch up. It looked like everyone around me was getting their prayers answered and their dreams were coming true, while my life looked like nothing was changing.

I love this tree because I've had situations in my life look like this tree.

So much life all around, but somehow this circumstance or relationship or dream still looks exactly the same as it did in the previous cold, gray season.

But then…

Just when I think this tree has lived its life, that I’ve held on long enough and this sucker has to come down, it comes to life and is so full and so beautiful that you can’t miss it. You couldn’t miss it before, true, but this time, you can’t miss it for all the right reasons- for its beauty, not its barrenness.

See, all the time, even when it looks stark, this tree isn’t dead…it just needs some more time and some more light. Even when it doesn’t look like it, there is movement and life. Things are shifting; things are happening under the surface. Roots are growing down deep and nutrients are moving up so that, in just the right time, the tree will bloom.

That thing in your life that looks dead- your friendship, your job, your marriage, your dream- it isn’t dead, either. It just needs some more time and some more Light. And the Light we have is better than the sunshine that shines on the trees- we have the light of the whole world (John 8:12). Whatever it is you’ve been praying for, don’t stop now. It may look like nothing is happening, but keep on asking (Matthew 7:7). Even when you can't see what He's doing, even when it appears He isn't, God is moving. Things are shifting and aligning in ways you can't see yet. Things are happening inside of you as you seek Him- your roots are growing deeper and stronger as you're being rooted and built up in Him (Colossians 2:7).

Every year, when the tree finally blooms, I'm so glad I didn't chop this thing down when it looked hopeless. I bet, when it happens for you- the reconciliation, the healing, the miracle, the joy in the morning- you're going to be so very glad you didn't call it dead when it was just asleep.

In Matthew 9, Jesus does a miracle, raising a girl from the dead. There's a big crowd and a lot of noise, and Jesus tells them, "Go away. The girl is not dead but asleep." And y'all- the people laughed at Him because she was so clearly gone. The crowd is put outside, and Jesus takes her by the hand, and she got up.

There's nothing He can't heal and restore. If He can work a miracle with a literally dead human, surely He can do something amazing with one who is actively breathing. And if you're reading this, that's you (the actively breathing one, I hope).

Don't give up hope, friend. My tree looks dead for most of the spring to basically everyone who walks or drives by my house, but I know the truth. It's just sleeping.

Raise Your Banner

by Jennifer Smith

Hang around me long enough and you'll learn this:  I'm madly in love with my husband.  I'm so in love that I still have a crush on him.  I could wax poetic about this man, exclaiming his virtues as father and provider and good smoocher, but my favorite thing about him is his heart for the Lord.

My husband is a pastor and several years ago he himself planted our church. He is a trusting and courageous man who listened to that still, small voice when God told him to move.  To say I'm proud would be an understatement.  He was resolute in his desire to do what God asked of him.  And like any person beginning an arduous task, he asked for prayer and guidance from his friends; most of these fellows being pastors themselves. They rallied around Dusty and encouraged him, prayed for him, and counseled him.  Ahhh...having godly friends is golden, isn't it?

I remember vividly one of those encouragements because I thought it was so beautiful.  Nic, who is a pastor at Newspring, texted Dusty in the early days of our church and told him, "I want to be like Aaron, holding your hands up as you accomplish the work God has called you to do."

This, friends, leads us to a precious and mighty Old Testament moment.  It's found in Exodus 17 and recounts a battle of the Israelites and their longtime foe, the Amalekites.  As brave Joshua goes into battle, Moses stands atop a nearby hill holding his staff into the air above the fighting as an encouragement to the soldiers and in supplication to God for an Israelite victory.  His staff over the Israelite army served as a banner of sorts, a coat of arms for Yahweh; telling all that this is the cause we fight for: God and His promises to His people.

As you can imagine, holding a large wooden staff above your head for hours on end wouldn't be easy.  (I have problems carrying more than three bags of groceries into the house from my car.)  When Moses's arms would falter, so would the Israelite army. When his arms remained high, the army would rally and advance with strength. Obviously, Moses and his banner were of utmost importance.  To help him, Aaron and Hur held Moses's arms up for him for the duration of the battle.

Needless to say, with God's help, the Israelites won.  Moses told them to build an altar at the site of the battle and call it "Yahweh-Nissi" or "The Lord is my Banner."

What an incredible thought:  accomplishing a task God has set before you or surviving a great trial or celebrating a victory under a banner which waves declaring:  I fight in the name of the Lord!

Banners are a tradition dating back to the most ancient of times.  For thousands of years armies have ridden under the banner of some king, some cause, or some country be it Attila the Hun, Alexander the Great, the Ottoman Empire, the French Revolution, or the Allies of World War II.  A banner is a fine thing - boldly declaring allegiance, stating a cause, ascribing loyalty.

We can be brave and fight for something too, right?  What banner shall we fight under, friends?  What enemy or injustice is at our door daring us to take up arms?  I serve a God who can win any battle in which I find myself.  A God with many names.  A General.  A Mighty King.  An arsenal of weapons and battle plans in His possession.  Psalm 60:4 says this:

You are a banner to those who fear you,
so they can raise up for the truth.

I want to raise up for truth!  Can you picture it?  What a glorious idea! 

So what Name of the Lord shall we ride under?  What coat of arms is painted on our banner?

Jehovah-Jireh?  The Lord Will Provide.  (Because we're struggling financially and we're scared.)

Jehovah-Rapha?  The Lord Who Heals.  (Because we're facing a scary diagnosis or nursing a broken heart.)

Jehovah-Shammah?  The Lord is There.  (Because we just need His sweet presence.)

El-Elyon?  God Most High.  (Because we've been running and we need to submit to His authority.)

Quanna?  He is Jealous.  (Because we put other things before Him.)

Or do we just need to hear Song of Solomon 2:4 and remember that "His banner over me is love?"  Because, friend, His love ripples in the wind over you at this very moment.

Did you notice Joshua's arms did not grow heavy under the physical fight?  But under that spiritual warfare?  Boy, did Moses grow faint. 

Friends, we need to call on Him.  We need to ride under His banner.  Because with it raised high we succeed, we win.  But when it falls and we're left to fight the enemy on our own, I promise, we will fail every time.

I would rather spend my life shouting the name of God than whispering my own.

Fighting under my name alone is futile.  It may look like I'm winning in the short term, but the war will ultimately be lost.  I want to raise my banner during battle and declare whose side I'm on.

Dear El Shaddai (The God Who is Sufficient for the Needs of His People),

Just as your banner defeated the Amalekites, I need your banner to defeat my enemies, too.  You are many things to those who call on your name, but above all you are Yeshua - because you "will save your people from our sins."  Yes, I will ride under the name of Yeshua, of Jesus.  The sweetest name I know.