I’ve prayed some prayers that sounded more like, “my will be done”, than Thine.

I’ve thrown petitions at heavens that weren’t really concerned with Your will or Your way, but mine.

Like a petulant toddler, there have been times I’ve pouted when You answered, “No”. So sure that you must be holding out on me.

And in my ignorance and pride, I’ve tried to the God I serve into the One who serves me.

But You are not a genie sent down to grant my wishes, forced to do my will. And You are not Santa Claus, willing to give me all I want if I am only good enough.

You are the infinite, all powerful Creator of the universe with purposes and plans beyond my comprehension.

And when I struggle to understand Your ways, teach me to rest in what I know about Your character.

I know that You are merciful.

I know that You are just.

I know that You are faithful.

I know that You are good.

I know that You are mighty.

I know that You are love.

You are holy, gracious, and kind.

And I know that You are all these even when Your answer is, “no.”

So I will still keep knocking with the prayers upon my heart, but I will trust Your answer because I trust in You.

I’m currently in the season of motherhood that involves lots of littles, little hands and little feet, little socks and little jammies, little toys and little plates. And if I’m not careful, I’ll begin to label this season of motherhood as little, insignificant. It feels like a season of waiting instead of doing, a season of staying instead of going. I’m busy, yes, but does the busyness really matter? It’s just dishes and laundry, playtime with too many dolls, and the same bedtime stories repeated over and over.

In the middle of my little life, God spoke a quiet thought to me that has been bouncing around in my head.

What I view as a little season, He views as a sowing season.

Like this moment in motherhood, the sowing season is made up of little things and a great deal of busyness. The sowing season is about focusing all of your energy onto these tiny little seeds that require so much work and attention but without the fruit of the labor that is coming.

In the sowing season, you’re pouring in and pouring in. You’re watering and fertilizing. You’re weeding and plowing. You’re waiting. You can’t go wherever you want, because you’ve got important work to do, but without the sowing season, you’ll never reach the harvest.

My prayer today is that I recognize that this season of motherhood is not a waste, but an investment into the little hearts and lives that have been given to me. The books and the lessons. The discipline and the laughs. The giggles and the potty training. It all matters because this is the time I have to pour as much as I can into my girls.

If you’re in the season of motherhood that feels small and insignificant, know that just because it’s small doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. You’re sowing into the greatest gifts you’ve been given. One day, sadly, they won’t need us, but today they’re not ready to weather this world without us. So we keep sowing because they are worth every effort.

Sometimes ministry is mundane.

Loads of laundry for little people and Bible stories before bed.

Encouraging text messages and phone calls to check in when you feel the Holy Spirit prompt you.

A consistent life lived before your friends and family that testifies to God’s grace in words and deeds.

A meal left on the front porch in times of need and grief.

It’s the way you choose grace in moments of frustration. The way you help point to the Author of peace in moments of uncertainty. The way you show kindness in a world that’s less than kind.

It’s taking time to pray for others, in the grocery store, at your job, in your home.

It’s more than just for Sunday and for more than your church platform. It’s for more than just the preacher.

It’s for me.

It’s for you.

Sometimes ministry looks like preaching and Sunday morning church, and sometimes ministry looks like Monday morning breakfast for the family that you have and Thursday phone calls to that friend.

There are more opportunities than we realize in the mundane. There are more chances to minister than we realize today.

“I will give You all,” we sing,

And we try to do our best

Giving Jesus the parts we’re proud of

Ashamed of all the rest

We offer Him our talents

And our time and our strengths

But when it comes to our weaknesses

Sometimes we question what He thinks

Does Jesus want our burdens

Our worries and our fears?

Does He really desire our weakness,

Our failures, and our tears?

The answer remains the same

As yesterday and tomorrow

Cast all your cares of Jesus

Your joys AND your sorrows

Bring to Him your failures,

Your struggles, and your pain

Let Jesus help you conquer them

And you’ll never be the same

Bring to Him your weakness

And then step back and see

As His strength is made perfect

In the things too much for you and me

“I will give you all,” we sing

And I pray the words ring true

Jesus wants to use your strengths

But He’ll work in your weakness too

In a world that does everything it can to make our children grow up faster than ever before, we are the ones who are able to protect their innocence.

In a world that pushes things that are fearful, evil, perverse, and violent, we are called to help their minds to focus on what is true, just, pure, and honorable. (Phil. 4:8)

In a world that honors sexuality and immorality, we must stand for righteousness and love the way God designed it.

In a world that will fill their ears and eyes with horrors and fears, we must shut the door to the evils that would cling to their hearts and surround them with love and faith instead.

It is not hateful to protect the innocence of your child in an immoral world. It is not bigotry to protect their minds from burdens that are too big for their little shoulders. It is not prideful to choose to set boundaries for music, shows, events, and people that would destroy their innocence.

One day, they will be old enough to face the world that I see. One day they will be strong enough to stand firm in the face of perversity. One day they will carry the weight of wars, sickness, evil, and more.

But not today. Today, we stand in the gap for our children. Today, we build walls to keep their hearts and minds safe.

We guard their innocence because it cannot be regained once taken.

Christ redeems our stories.

He redeems the hardest parts and the ugliest parts that we wish we could pretend never happened and uses them for His glory, our good, and to help others.

He used Joseph’s prison sentence to promote him and used that promotion to save his family in the famine.

He used Peter’s denial to teach him that the price paid on the cross was enough for every failure.

He used Daniel’s lion den to prove His power and faithfulness to a king and nation.

He used the house that Rahab used for prostitution to keep the spies from Israel safe and to provide her and her family safety when Jericho’s walls fell.

He used Ruth’s tragic loss to teach her that He could be her God, just like He was Naomi’s.

He used it all, all the shameful, painful parts, to make something beautiful.

Don’t allow the enemy to cause you to live in shame over something Christ has forgiven you from. Don’t allow the enemy to make you hide what He has redeemed.

We are not called to glory in our sin, or our pain, no, but we can glory in the One who brought us out of it.

Christ redeems our story.

Christ redeems YOUR story.

Look through the news for too long and you’ll find yourself filled with worry. Listen to the reporters telling you of one disaster or tragedy after another and suddenly the world looks terrifying.

This world gives us plenty of reasons to fear.

But Jesus gives us more reasons to rejoice.

His power has not waned. His promises are still sure. The God of yesterday is the God of today and tomorrow as well.

He promises that we can have peace in the midst of chaos. He promises joy in the middle of sorrow. He gives hope that does not fail and does not end.

If you are following Jesus, you can rest assured that the disasters around us only point to the ultimate hope, His return.

When the fears begin to stack up, count the promises of Jesus and stand firm on the rock that hell itself could not destroy.

October 16th will be 6 months since my last panic attack or crippling nightmare. Six months since Jesus healed me, in mind and body,and set me free.

I was having multiple panic attacks a week, crawling behind the clothes in my closet, trying to breathe myself through them. And the nightmares were extreme and vivid attacks on my family and children that would make we wake up crying and shaking. The weight of it all was destroying me.

And I felt such shame. I didn’t tell others because of the shame. I was convinced by lies of the enemy that I was a failure, as a wife, a mother, a Christian. I believe I was going to ruin my children, trapping them in the same cycles I was in, and it was breaking me.

Then, on the night of April 16th, I made my way to a Sunday night revival service. My girls were antsy that night and I spent more time in the foyer than the sanctuary. At the end of the service, I wasn’t even sure what the message was about because I had only caught bits and pieces. I was ready to pack up the kids and go home. But then, the guest speaker made a statement that seemed like he was speaking directly to me.

“If all you have to give Jesus is anxiety, He will give you peace.”

In desperation, I made my way up to the altar and told the Lord,

“Here it is. It’s all I have anymore. I don’t know what else to do, and I don’t know what you can do with it, but here it is.

And Jesus healed me – He healed my mind, my body, and my soul. All the things that I couldn’t fix, He did. All the broken pieces, all the anxiety, all the shame, He took it from me. There wasn’t a lightning strike or fire from heaven, but I knew the exact moment that the Creator of my mind and body healed what was broken in me.

It was freedom. It was strength. It was joy.

It was peace.

This weekend the Lord reminded me that six months ago, all I had to give Him was anxiety. It had consumed me to the point that I believed it defined me and I had nothing left to give.

But today, I have a hallelujah to give back to my Jesus. I have worship. I can praise Him with a heart full of joy, peace, and hope instead of pain, shame, and anxiety.

Have you come to Jesus with your own brokenness and received freedom in return? Give Him back your worship!

Are you broken even now? Do you feel that all you can offer Jesus is your brokenness, your anxiety, your depression, your addiction, your failure?

Give it to Jesus. The scars in His hands and on His back prove that He bore the weight of your brokenness for you. Give it to Jesus, and let Him give you joy, peace, freedom, deliverance, forgiveness, beauty.

Give Jesus your broken pieces and then give Him back your hallelujah.

When you learn that Jesus is faithful in both the battle in the victory, you take away the enemy’s power to destroy you with the battle.

When you learn to rely on the goodness of God, which is unchanging, instead of the ease of your circumstances around you, which change day by day, you find a steady rock that is always strong enough to carry you through.

A life lived for Jesus is not meant to be easy but it’s also not meant to be done in your own strength.

You’re going to fight battles with giants much bigger than you. You’re going to face storms with waves so big that you wonder how you’re not drowning. You’re going to walk through fires that should destroy but don’t.

And you can trust that Jesus is faithful in every moment of these trials.

He is just as faithful when the giant stands in front of you, as when he lays defeated at your feet.

Whether the waves toss your boat back and forth or the waters are calm, through the fire, and on the other side, He is faithful and He is working.

In the battle, He is teaching you that He is more powerful than the giant. In the storm, He proves that He is peace, even in chaos. In the fire, He shows that He is your protector and defender.

The battle doesn’t mean He’s forgotten you. He’s with you in it and He is faithful.

I have found that when I take a small step towards Christ, He rushes towards me.

When I choose to spend moments with Him in the morning, instead of scrolling before the kids wake, He always meets me in the quiet and refreshes my heart and mind before I start my day.

When I find time to worship as I scrub the dishes, His presence fills my kitchen and my home.

When I whisper a prayer in the middle of a busy day, I can be confident He moves to answer even in my rush.

There is strength found in spending hours with Jesus, in pouring over the pages of His Word and listening to His voice. And I must make time for Him.

But the “perfect” moment isn’t always there, and if I wait to speak with Him until that moment, I deny the relationship He wants with me.

He is waiting and ready to meet me in every moment. He draws nearer as I do, and He is closer than I realize.

Don’t wait for the perfect setting to seek Christ. Seek Him where you are, with kiddos hanging on you, laundry in front of you, or your daily commute ahead of you. Seek Christ, and He will find you.