dependence on God Archives - Page 2 of 4

How Looking Back Helps Us Go Forward

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 28, 2017
Post category:courage dependence on God faith perspective

A few summers ago, our family spent several weeks in Colorado. Naturally, we hiked. Our kids were not fans. It was, “Too hard, not fun, too hot, not enough snacks,” you name it. We trained our kids not to say, “I can’t do this,” but rather, “I currently struggle with . . .” challenging things. At one point, our daughter commented, “I currently struggle with this mountain.”

Mountain climbing isn’t easy, but I’ve learned one thing that helps me keep going: stopping once in a while and looking back.

When we look back, we see that yes, we actually are making progress. The top is closer. The view is getting better. Just that look back can encourage us to keep pressing on.

As we enter a new year, we do not know what the future holds.

It could be that you are excited about the possibilities. But maybe you’re heading into a new season that is uncertain. Prayers you started last January may sit still unanswered. The path forward might be a tough road. It’s easy to say, “I currently struggle with this,” and want to give up.

So before we move forward, we need to look back.

Recently, I did this with my ministry team at work. On a retreat, we reflected on Joshua 4, when the Israelites crossed the Jordan. After they did, God admonished them to take stones from the river and pile them up in remembrance of what He had done, so that future generations could see His faithfulness.

In the absence of stones, we found a piece of driftwood from the Intracoastal. On one side, we wrote, “we remember . . .” We each took turns writing something God did for us this past year, some way He showed His faithfulness. It was good to reflect on how He has worked good in our lives.

On the other side, we wrote, “therefore we hope . . .”

Therefore. It’s an important word. We hope because we have seen. Looking back, we remind ourselves how far He has brought us. We see that He has been our faithful companion along the path. It is His strength and wisdom that have brought us to this place. He will guide us the rest of the way.

It’s in looking back at His faithfulness that we can move confidently with hope into the future.

When the future looks foggy, look back. When we do, we gain vision for what is ahead. We record the evidence of His faithfulness to chart our way for the future. There will be stones of remembrance to gather when we stop again further down the path. He has loved us too much to stop now. The One who brought us this far will continue on the journey.

Look back so you can keep going forward.

Having Hope in a New Season

Are You Looking for God in the Right Places?

The Illusion of Having It All Together

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 15, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith identity trials

Early in our time overseas, I thought I had it all together. I was busy balancing raising two preschoolers, learning a second language, living overseas, and having a personal ministry, with joy. I looked like Super Mom, but it was an illusion. Then God, in His mercy, shattered it.

In the fall of 2004, we moved to Singapore. Both our kids stopped napping at the same time. I no longer had household help. The first time my husband traveled that fall, he returned to a house that looked like a tornado hit it.

“What did you do while I was gone?” he asked me.

“How about we decide right now that’s a question you don’t get to ask me,” I responded (not one of our finest marriage interactions).

I was never Super Mom; I was just an over-functioning, bone-weary mom (with a maid). Then I started homeschooling (Jesus, take the wheel). Soon after that, allergies took over my life, forcing me to spend most days in an itchy, sneezing fog. I couldn’t keep it together any more. Gina came undone.

What a blessing.

God led me to feel my desperate need for Him. I was confronted daily by my own inadequacy, lostness, pride, and self-sufficiency (God is so not impressed with that quality, unfortunately).

It was one of the hardest and most frustrating seasons of my life. Many times I sided with Rich Mullins when he sang, “I can’t see where you’re leading me, unless you’ve led me here, to where I’m lost enough to let myself be led.”

The illusion of having it all together was just that-an illusion.

But as my illusion fell away, to my surprise, others drew closer. They met me in my need. When I showed them my lack of togetherness, they were gracious. They gave me a new place to rest, and even (dare I hope?) seemed to love me more.

As my friend Holly Sheldon once said, “People don’t draw close to strength. They admire it, respect it, but don’t draw near to it.“

[ictt-tweet-inline]Having it all together may impress, but it doesn’t invite.[/ictt-tweet-inline] And we need to extend an invitation to others, an invitation in to what is true about us: we are messy, weak, needy humans. Not super human. Just human, like everyone else.

And when we extend the invitation to others to see that we are, in fact, undone, we give others the freedom to be undone as well. We can all step out from behind the curtain and own what is true. Together sigh a breath of relief that we can set the illusion aside.

Letting go of our illusion invites God in too. There, He can sort out our messy places. Be strength in our weakness. Fill our needs. Help us be human.

None of us really has it together. Oh, we can try to keep up that illusion. But why? There is freedom, love, and rest on the other side. Let yourself come undone.

Related posts:

Looking Scary (When We’re Scared)

The Soul Needs to Be Seen

The Secret to Persevering in the Arena

Post author:Gina B
Post published:November 9, 2017
Post category:courage dependence on God faith trials

Developing a Stronger Theology for the Arena — Photo by Jason Briscoe on Unsplash

Recently I had a week of awkward engagements, mostly in the form of writing emails telling people what they don’t want to hear, or pushing into uncomfortable topics with others.

Yuck. I thought, “Is there a hole I can go crawl into now?” But each of those interactions was necessary because of the tough arenas of life God has called me into for this season.

Brene Brown, in her book Rising Strong, says, “an arena is any moment when or place where we have risked showing up and being seen.”

Inspired by the Teddy Roosevelt 1910 speech (below), those arenas are places of blood, sweat, and tears, where we fight for what we believe in. We hope for victory, but know that failing is always a possibility.

This is a “venture into tough new arenas” year for me. They ask more of me than I want to give sometimes. These arenas call me to risk, lead, take stands, and put myself out there.

Can I be honest? Making a difference, affecting change, living bravely, all sounds great in theory. But it’s tiring.

A lot of the time, I want to quit. Stop writing. Step away from leading. Let things go rather than fight for a stance. Comfort is more appealing than potential failure, regardless of what I or others might gain.

It’s hard to put yourself out there when there’s a risk of falling on your face. So much more appealing to stay on those safe shores. And yet, we must keep fighting.

When I am tempted to step out of the arena, wipe the blood, sweat, and tears off my face, and throw in the towel, I feel a check in my spirit. A voice says,

“Stay. Stay and fight. You don’t need to stop. You just need more truth for this.”

We don’t need to quit.

We just need to get stronger. And where does that strength come from? It comes from the truth. Here’s the secret to not quitting when life is tough:

We need a stronger theology for the arena.

What does that look like? To begin with, it means more strength training out of the ring.

We train our minds with the truth; that this is for His glory, not our ours; that there is no failure so great to put us out of His reach; that every second in the ring is only possible because of His power, not our own; that a knockdown does not define our worth.

The more we are called to the arena, the more we need to feed our minds and hearts the truth about who He is and who we are. Then, when we are tempted to quit, instead we choose to double down on those truths.

Second, we need to train our hearts to hear our coach’s voice, even in the thick of the fight. He is with us, for us, in us. No one is more for us in the arena than He is.

We can’t always step out of the ring, so we must learn the moment by moment Yahweh breathing to slow our hearts and call us back to depend on His voice.

Staying in the arena means growing the humility to admit when we need a minute in the corner to catch our breath. We take time in the corner to get toweled off and refreshed by His Presence, His Spirit, His words. The longer we’re there, the harder it is, but there’s always a place of rest.

It’s hard to win without anyone in your corner. We need cheerleaders, people who know why we’re in there and believe in what we’re doing. Those are the people who will shout at us to get back up when we fall.

And we need to remember why we stepped into the arena in the first place. If this is God’s call, He gives us what we need to fight.

He never promised easy. Nor did He promise victory in every battle. But if we strengthen our theology, we can stay in it until it’s finished, no matter how many times we fall.

What We Don’t Have to Carry

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 31, 2017
Post category:dependence on God peace

I woke up one morning recently, and in that space between sleeping and waking I had a clear picture in my head of a room. Scattered around the room were objects that represented aspects of my life that were causing me to worry.

It was right in the middle of a crazy week. Our kids had started school and I was trying to get back into my role at work, bringing a thousand minute decisions and needful things screaming for my attention.

The night before, as I reviewed my day, I had been aware of how those worries had occupied my thoughts and energy during the day. It occurred to me how much I had been holding onto them, rather than stopping to pray and release them to God. I determined that the next day would be one of peace. Surrender would be my course of action.

But as I woke up that morning and pictured that room, my eyes found those worries lying around me. I immediately felt a heaviness in my soul as I saw myself reaching to pick them up again, throw them over my shoulders, and trudge on. But as I leaned to take hold of one of these burdens, I heard God say,

“That is not yours to carry.”

There was in that instant a momentary sense of relief, and a reminder of my determination to stay in a place of peace this day. But in the next second, another worry popped up, whispering over my shoulder that surely I needed to carry it. As I turned in my mind to pick it up, again I heard His voice,

“That is not yours to carry.”

And then I breathed a sigh of surrender.

Sitting down that morning to pray, I thought of all those worries I was tempted to bear. I thought about this invitation from God to release my grip on them. They are good and important things that do require attention and care, but they are beyond my control. It’s best I admit that. That’s a good place to start.

So I wrote them all out one by one, writing a prayer of release for each detail. And then, I asked God to make me carefree.

I like that word-“care free.” To be free from care. Not that I stop caring what happens in our lives, but I stop being the carrier. I stop believing that without me at work, they will be forgotten and lost. I believe that the God who is stronger, wiser, bigger, and more powerful carries them for me.

That morning, a friend of mine posted 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your anxieties on Him because He cares for you.” I took a few minutes to read that verse in other translations, and I had to laugh when I opened The Message. It reads, “Live carefree before God; He is most careful with you.”

Full of care for us. Fully able to carry all those burdens that threaten to weigh us down with worry. Whatever is calling for you to pick it up and bear it today, don’t. Live care-free. Let Him carry it.

Related posts:

Don’t Forget to Breathe

Doubting in the Darkness

Let Go and Let Him Hold You

Running from God

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 21, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith trials

“What would make you run from God?”

A pastor asked us this question one Sunday as he began a series on the person of Jonah, the poster prophet for running from God.

The pastor suggested we might be tempted to run from a calling to another country, maybe one where westerners aren’t welcome. I found myself surprised that a specific location hadn’t even crossed my mind.

No, for me it’s not “please don’t call me to that place.” My “places” are more internal. Maybe I’m not alone.

We are, at the core, self-centered people, which is the heart of the book of Jonah. God was calling him not just to a place, but to a surrender of the heart. That, maybe more than Nineveh, was the place he didn’t want to go.

So he ran toward Tarshish. Not sure what made Tarshish so appealing. Me, I run too, but in smaller, less obvious ways (because I don’t know how to get to Tarshish).

I run by staying busy, too busy to reflect on my heart, too busy to hear from God.

I run until I feel I’ve given enough, done enough, been enough.

I run from insignificance, from feeling small or forgotten.

I run from silence, where I might encounter emotions or truth I don’t want to own.

I run from being exposed to God, or more aware of my sin, is not a place I want to be.

All places where He is calling me to surrender, to let go of what I cling to that I think is life.

I want Him to call me somewhere else, some place where I look good and successful and admirable, and I don’t have to own the mess inside.

God calls us to places of surrender in order to do a deeper work in us. For Jonah, it was a big fish for three days. I can’t say how grateful I am that God has never felt He needed to throw me in a whale to get my attention.

For me, it’s places of unanswered prayer, unexpected disappointment, unmet desire, loneliness, trials. Those are places we would rather not be, but they are the places where God can bring us to the surrender that needs to happen for us to go deeper in Christ and further in mission.

This was a good reminder for me, to ask myself whether I am willing to sit in the places where He takes me, rather than trying to scramble out to a more pleasant existence. I need to surrender to His work within me.

What about you? Are you running from Him, or are you surrendering to His work?

Lean In

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

On Waiting Well

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 25, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith hope prayer

I might be the most impatient person in the world. I hate waiting for anything. This video’s going to take a minute to load? Not worth it. I have to wait how long for this to cook? Not if I turn the temperature higher.

Don’t even get me started on the big stuff.

Like waiting to see my book published. It seemed like the process was going quickly, like, “other authors might hate me if it’s this easy” quickly. And then it wasn’t. The process is still moving, but oh so slowly. I’m still waiting to see what God will do.

Or this decision we have to make. Our family has prayed about it for months. It’s door 1 or 2. That seems simple. Waiting for an answer is agonizing. We want to know now.

Unfortunately, God seems uninterested in our timelines. He doesn’t usually do fast, especially when it comes to spiritual growth, character change, answering the big prayers, or making the dreams happen.

But Psalm 130:6 says, “I will wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.”

A night of watching and waiting sounds like drudgery. Unproductive. Frustrating. It flies in the face of my impatience.

Waiting like this means we are helpless. We can’t make that sun come up one minute faster.

It begs humility from us. It requires us to relinquish control. It asks us to trust. It asks us to hope.

I’ve heard the word “wait” in scripture is often interchangeable with “hope.” This verse is asking us to put all our chips on God, all our hope in His goodness.

But hope is scary. Hope opens up our hearts to disappointment.

Yet this is the stance I want to take towards God. [ictt-tweet-inline]I want to be someone who waits well. [/ictt-tweet-inline]I want to be a woman who hopes.

When I read this verse, I think of the watchtowers on the Great Wall of China. I imagine those watchmen putting all their hope in the dawn. Sunrise meant relief – the end of their watch. It meant rest, and rescue. It was a sure bet, that sun coming up. It was hope well placed.

Waiting keeps us dependent on God.

These months of waiting have tethered us to God. It has been a long night, but it has been a night spent watching and hoping, expecting that He will answer. The night is when we are tempted to doubt, to become anxious, to wonder if He really is paying attention, if He cares. We’re tempted to take matters into our own hands (as if we can rush the morning).

But the night is when our souls learn to trust.

Because morning is coming. Whether it’s the answer to prayer, or the heart change, or the character growth, or the dream fulfilled, He will come. As surely as the sun rises, He comes.

No, not always the way we want. Often not the way we want. But the way we need, yes. He is worthy of our hope.

And, I’m learning, God seems more concerned with the process than the product. He’s more intent on our dependence than our destination. The night is not wasted. That’s where He causes hope to grow and trust to take root, where He wants to quiet our souls and fix our eyes on Him.

So let’s be people who wait well. The sun will come.

Related posts:

What I’ve Learned about Seeking God

Having Hope in a New Season

On Learning to Be Quick to Call for Help

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 16, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith

“Ring! Ring!”

It was a common call in our house when our children were younger, usually accompanied by giggles, peppered with a little desperation.

They were the distress call from our daughter, translating to, “Daddy – my big brother’s playing with me. He’s getting a little too rough. Left to my own devices I’ll probably retaliate in a way that I’ll regret. At least he will. Save me!”

We obviously needed a code word.

It started as a simple conflict resolution skill. If it’s getting past “this is fun” into “he’s sitting on my head and it hurts,” she called out, “Ring! Ring!” She knew daddy would come to her rescue.

Initially, her “Ring! Ring!” cries were a little frantic and uncertain.

She had to stand her own ground with her brother when they wrestled, and she didn’t know if she would be rescued. After a while, she realized daddy came readily when she called.

Not only did he come, but he scooped her up and whisked her away. A distressing moment transformed to joy. He was her knight in shining armor.

I think she secretly hoped for a chance to call. She loved it when daddy showed up.

Whenever I think of her “Ring! Ring” I am reminded of my heavenly Father.

He comes when we call

I am a fiercely independent, “thanks, but I’ve got this” kind of girl when it comes to life. I am often so convinced I can handle life on my own that I forget my Father is so able and willing to respond to my “Ring! Ring!”

I’m not talking about the kind of faith that uses God as a last resort, or sees Him as only a lifeline when we’re in trouble.

I want my “Ring! Ring!” to change from the hesitant, questioning cries that mark young faith, to confident, joyful expectation that believes our God is never far away.

May we have faith that does not trust in our own ways, our own strength. Instead, we immediately recognize our need for help and His great power and love.

Last night as I went to bed, the weight of the details of life hung heavy. Between work and writing and parenting and impending visitors and a soon to be traveling husband, I was tempted to be anxious and wonder if I could make it all happen.

I was reminded that our Father longs to intervene. He wants to take those burdens. In exchange, He wants to give us the peace, energy, wisdom and power to do what He has called us to do.

So this morning when I woke up, I called for help. And God came to my rescue, reminding me that He’s got today. He’s got me. Help us on the way. He’s got us. So call, friends.

“The Lord your God is with you; He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

I Don’t Need Rescuing (Except I Do)

Warning: Don’t Forget to Breathe

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 23, 2017
Post category:anxiety dependence on God faith grace prayer rest

In the quiet of a dimly lit room, standing unsteadily on a foam mat, wondering if everyone behind me was judging my form (they weren’t), I tried to focus. Arms up, down to prayer, bend over. Lift halfway, down again, now back up and reach . . . and oh yeah, don’t forget to breathe.

It seems like the lamest command one human could give another, “Don’t forget to breathe.” We breathe on average 17,000+ times per day involuntarily. I have done it for over 40 years. That’s, . . . (I don’t do math) a lot of breathing. I should be practiced by now.

And yet.

Every time our sweet yoga guide said it, I realized I was not breathing. So focused on the action I forgot to inhale and exhale.

When I did breathe, my body relaxed. I sank deeper, and became more aware of everything I was doing. The places that were tight, needing more attention, spoke to me.

Our instructor pointed out that the Jewish name for God-Yahweh-was meant to be breathed. It’s the only consonants in the Hebrew alphabet not articulated with the lips and tongue. So as you breathe in and out, you can say the name of Yahweh. That is what we practiced. Yah-weh. Yah-weh.

A way of breathing that reminds us who is with us and what He offers. It calls us to slow down, lean in, be aware that the very breath of God is in us.

So, in the moments when life feels a little rushed, too overwhelming, too hard, I’ve been trying to practice this.

We must remember to breathe.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when that guy in front of you is driving 40 in a 55 and there’s no possibility of passing . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in patience, peace and the knowledge that we will get there eventually. Then we breathe out grace toward those who slow us down when we want to be fast.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when we ask our children to do something and we can see the objections forming in their heads before they’re even words . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in time to speak to the heart. Then we breathe out words that love and invite.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when one more person presents one more need for us to meet . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the space we need to question if this yes is for us or not. Then we breathe out an honest, humble answer that offers the best for everyone.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when our best-laid plans fall to pieces . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the grace we need. Then we breathe out a good laugh at the idea that we were ever in control in the first place.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when anxiety grips our hearts and warns us to step away from the brave paths God’s calling us to take . . . Yah-weh . . .We breathe in his peace, his promise that He’s the one who brought us this far and He won’t let go now. Then we breathe out the determination that says we will keep walking this way because He is with us.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . when the pressure to be all things to everyone threatens to weigh us down . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in our humanity and let ourselves off the hook. Then we breathe out the tension as we remember that we are not the Saviors of the world.

Don’t forget . . .

. . . at the end of the day when we realize we’ve made it . . . Yah-weh . . . We breathe in the joy and the blessings. Then we breathe out gratitude and worship to the One who gives it all to us. He is always with us, closer than our own breath.

Practice this Yah-weh breath with me. It slows us down, makes us conscious of the areas in our lives that need our attention, and brings a consciousness of His presence in our lives.

Don’t forget to breathe today, friends.

Related posts:

Keeping a Sabbath Heart

Lean In

What to Do When It’s Hard

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 9, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith grief trials

In the last couple of weeks, I have witnessed all manner of hardship around me. The sudden death of a son. Adopted children wrestling with trauma and fear. Inconclusive test results. Two attempted suicides. A mysterious illness in a child.

Moments like this rattle us to our core. They remind us that the world is fallen, and we are frail. They speak to our smallness, and our need for a solid place.

Pleas to God for comfort and peace and hope are intermingled with the aching questions of, “Lord Jesus, why?” and, “What now?” and “Where are You?”

There is desperate clinging to that which is good, mixed with a wonder and confusion of how we continue to navigate this world that is so hard and uncertain.

And when I ponder it myself, here’s what keeps resonating in my soul:

Lean in.

Lean into His voice whispering through the questions and the confusion, “Come closer, sink deeper. Find a place of solace where your soul can exhale and rest. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.” We set aside what we do not know and grab hold of what we do.

Lean in, friends. Hard. Lean into the One who sees it all. Fall on the One who loves you. Collapse in the arms of the One who is more than able. Lean to the point where your feet don’t even touch the ground anymore and you’re just carried by Him.

He can handle it. There is nothing beyond His strength. He is our ezer kenegdo, our warrior helper, who fights for us and helps us.

Don’t just throw your worries at Him hoping something will stick, hoping for the best. Lean into His promises like your life depends on it. Let your leaning be full of faith, hope, and trust.

Don’t let your unanswered questions drive a wedge of bitterness or hopelessness between you and the very one who knows what you need and wants to walk with you in this.

As Hudson Taylor said, “It does not matter how great the pressure is. What really matters is where the pressure lies-whether it comes between you and God, or whether it presses you nearer His heart.”

The promise of abundant life is not the promise of a painless life.

It is not the promise of a happy life. It is a promise of resources plentiful for what we will walk through. Here is where we can always lean in and find what we need for the journey.

So lean in with your fists, if you must. Lean in with your wailing and doubts and anger, and beat your hands against His chest until it dissolves into grief and you let Him hold you.

Lean in with the faith of a child and rest. Rest in His comfort and peace, knowing you don’t have to have answers or direction-you just know that someone holds those for you.

Lean into His embrace. Listen to His heart beat for you. Hear His voice speak over you the very words you long to hear. Find what you need.

You can never lean too hard, or push too much. There is no way you will topple Him or ask more than He can offer. He is our solid oak, our life raft, our shelter, our rock in the storm.

Lean in.

Related posts:

Let Go and Let Him Hold You

Cease Striving

Peace and Hope Amidst the Storm

Drop the Hot Dog – Learning to Feed on What Truly Satisfies

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 20, 2017
Post category:dependence on God expectations identity loved

Confession: While I deeply want to be loved for who I am (and fear that I might not be), I settle for admiration. It feels like love. But that’s like eating a hot dog when what I need is rich soul food.

It’s easier, feeding off admiration. Admiration is more accessible. It’s more within my control to seek out the praise of others than it is to lay myself bare before them and hope I am enough in myself. I pour my energy into dazzling others with my gifts and tell myself I’m satisfied while my true hunger lies under the surface, unmet.

We all have our hot dogs.

Our hot dogs are those easy, cheap, artificial substitutes for what our hearts deeply crave. We eat the worldly foods we hope will bring us life. Because we don’t believe our true needs will be met, we settle for less.

We all settle for something lesser to satisfy our souls.

We want to be wanted, but we settle for being needed.

Our souls need true connection, but we settle for false peace, fueled by a fear of confrontation.

We want intimacy, but we settle for staying in control, hiding our weaknesses where they cannot be touched.

We feed on competence, reputation, usefulness, perfectionism, security, self-righteousness, self-sufficiency, busy schedules and so much more.

A few years ago, the taste of success began to sour for me.

Oh, don’t get me wrong-I love the feeling that I have accomplished something. I never fail to appreciate admiration. But I could feed off success all day long and twice on Sunday and never satisfy the deep hunger of my soul to be known and loved for who I am. That is a desire for which admiration is a pale substitute.

It’s like I woke one day and realized I have been feeding myself bread made from sawdust. Worse than a hot dog. That is the act of a person who is starving and must feed herself any way she can. It is the act of a person who doesn’t believe there is manna for her to eat instead.

God in his mercy keeps showing me ways I am trying to find life and love where it is not meant to be found. He keeps drawing my eyes back to Him and His provisions. God loves me too much to let me go hungry.

He calls me to drop the hot dogs.

He tells me to stop trying to feed myself something that isn’t going to satisfy. (We can have a pretty tight grip on our hot dogs. Sometimes He has to outright smack them out of our hands. Word to the wise-just let go. It’s easier).

Instead of our hot dogs, God is offering us a feast.

When we stop scrambling to feed ourselves, we see how He is providing rich food all around us. We see the manna of His presence, peace, joy, and love in all the ordinary moments He gives us throughout the day. He is constantly trying to feed us.

As I step back from seeking admiration, the deeper hunger of my heart has come to the surface. I am learning to own the hunger, to feel it more deeply rather than ignore it. I hear His invitation to the feast. The call to feast on Him alone is more satisfying than anything I could feed myself.

Don’t believe the lie that the hot dog will satisfy.

It’s not what you need. What He offers is better. Ask Him to show you what you are settling for, and how you are trying to feed yourself. What you hunger for is found best in Him. He is the source of love, the bread of life. Be satisfied in Him.

Related posts:

Stop Telling Me to Be Amazing

A Story of Two Houses