The people that God chooses to work through are usually the ones that are available.

Talent is wonderful and should absolutely be used to glorify God but maybe too often we get caught up on what we feel like we have (or don’t have) to offer the Lord instead of what He wants us to do.

We long for greater abilities, something to catch people’s eye, or an important name and family. But the thing is that Jesus isn’t looking for someone to make their name known. He’s looking for someone to make His name known.

We see it throughout the Bible. He chose humble shepherds, a prostitute, widows, fishermen, tax collectors, and all other kinds of people that many would have overlooked. He wasn’t looking at what they could do, what family they came from, or who they had been before they met Him. He was looking at their willingness to step out and do what they were called to do. He was looking at their heart.

God will use the talents He has given you for His glory, but He is not looking for what abilities you have. He is looking for someone who is listening to His voice, staying faithful where they are, and willing to obey when He speaks.

If you want the Lord to use you, then get ready. Stay faithful where He has you today and keep listening. Because that’s the kind of person He’s looking for. That’s the kind of person He anoints to reach the lost.

Submission is an antagonistic word in a society that chases power and pleasure.

For the non-believer, it sounds illogical. Why would someone willingly deny themself if they believe that this life is all there is?

Even for the follower of Christ, the thought of choosing God’s way instead of our own can feel difficult. We want our own way. We want to satisfy our own desires. We want to be in control.

Too often, I find myself making submission to God about myself instead of my Savior. Then I find myself struggling to let go of my own will when it is really more about following His plan than letting go of mine.

It’s about Jesus, not me.

When I make it about Him, I shift my focus from what I’m afraid of losing to what I’m gaining by trusting His will for my life. I can see the peace that comes with surrender. I can see the restoration and redemption that comes through submission.

When I make it about Jesus, I realize that I could lose everything, but as long as I have Him, my life is full.

Submission sounds foolish and even when unless you know that the One you are submitting to is worthy of your heart and your trust. Submission sounds foolish unless you know Jesus.

I love worship, especially corporate worship with fellow believers. I love listening to the music fill the sanctuary, hearing my friends’ voices raised in song, and seeing hands raised in praise and adoration of the only One who is worthy of our praise.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about how I want my worship to be more than a song. I want my life to be lived in worship of my Savior. Often, worship looks more like obedience than a song. And it’s usually more about the attitude of my heart and actions of my hands than the words I’m saying.

Sometimes worship looks like helping out your neighbors and friends. Sometimes it looks like choosing to hold your tongue when you really want to speak hateful words. Usually, worship involves setting aside my own desires and choosing to glorify God instead of myself. It means sacrifice for the One who is worthy. It means choosing to serve God and others in a world that magnifies self. It means living the way Jesus taught, when it’s easy and when it’s hard.

Worship is about the life I live to bring glory to my God just as much as the songs I sing.

I want to worship with more than my words. I want to worship with a life that reflects Him. I don’t just want to worship. I want to be a worshipper.

I’m not raising Barbie girls.

I’m not trying to teach them to be obsessed with looking perfect, having the most friends, or having the best job. My prayers for them go far beyond flawless skin and millions of followers.

I’m raising strong women who find their strength from the God they serve not the amount of attention they have. They’ll find that people’s opinions are unpredictable, but God is unchanging.

I’m raising real women who are less concerned with having a perfect “plastic” life and more focused on having a heart that is honest with others, themselves, and God. They’ll find that there is more contentment in a life lived this way than one that’s lived to impress.

I’m raising brave women who listen to God’s voice instead of the world’s voice on what it means to be a woman. They’ll need to be brave to choose the harder path instead of the one the world pushes.

I’m raising joyful women who know that lasting joy comes from Jesus, not a dream house. They’ll find fleeting happiness never satisfies, but Jesus’ well never runs dry.

I’m raising my girls to know that you can be strong, and still be gentle. You can be smart and still choose to serve others. You can have big dreams but also know that a heart that loves motherhood, home, and family is not a weakness. It’s a God-given gift.

My prayer for my girls is that their “dream” homes would be a place full of the presence of God, love, family, and friends. I focus my prayers on their little hearts being completely surrendered to Christ and don’t care what their car or closets end up looking like. I pray that peace is not a picture perfect plastic life. Peace is Jesus.

They may never have a slide that lands them directly in their swimming pool and their circle may be small. But if their circle is made of others pursuing their Creator then they’ll just fine.

I’m living in a world that pushes pleasure, self, and perfection above all else.

But I’m not raising Barbie girls. I’m raising women of God.

Tomorrow can feel so heavy when you try to carry it today.

His mercies that were new this morning were meant for today not to solve the problem of tomorrow’s sunrise.

And just like Israel in the wilderness, if we try to gather enough provision for today and tomorrow, we will only find ourselves with rotting manna. Trust that the daily manna He provides does not have to be hoarded because He is faithful to prepare it for us each morning.

We were never meant to carry tomorrow. We were meant to rely on Him each day, knowing His mercies were new yesterday, today, and they will be tomorrow.

There is a tendency within this human heart to become complacent in times of ease. When life is smooth sailing, my heart whispers lies that I am capable of controlling my own boat, that I can depend on myself.

It’s a story we see repeated time and again in the Old Testament as God’s people cling to Him in hardship and lean on their own understanding in times of prosperity and peace.

The reality is, however, that I need Him just as much in seasons of despair as I do in seasons of security.

He is the God that sustains me in the wilderness and the promised land.

He is the God who longs for relationship not just as my provider, but as my Savior, my Father, my Friend.

As much as I can run to Him when my heart is full of fears and needs, He desires I come to Him when it is overflowing with His fullness and joy. The pride and apathy that can enter into moments of fullness are just as dangerous as the doubt and skepticism that can plague us in storms. The difference is I find it so much easier to lay my doubts at His feet.

Let us cling to Him both when He feels like the only hand holding us together and when we feel steady as the Rock we stand on. Because His faithfulness to me in every moment should be met with nothing less than faithfulness to Him in every place I find myself as well.

There’s a familiar story found in Mark where four men bring their paralyzed friend to Jesus. When there is no way for them to enter the home he was in, they climb up onto the roof, cut an opening in the top and let their friend down through the hole to Jesus. Mark 2 tells us that when Jesus saw the faith of this man’s friends, He forgave and healed the sick man.

This man was healed because he had friends who were determined to bring him to Jesus when he couldn’t get there himself.

My prayer is that I’ll be that kind of friend.

The kind that sees my friend in need and determines to get them to Jesus no matter what it takes.

The kind that has faith for their need when they’re too weary to have faith themselves

The kind that is willing to disrupt my day and my plans to be there when they need help getting to Jesus.

The kind that comes to Jesus not just with my own needs, but with bold faith for my friends’ needs.

Culture teaches me that my own plans and wants are all that matters, but Jesus teaches me that the way people will know that I am a believer is the love I show for my brothers and sisters in Christ.

Let the love I have for You overflow into a love that will climb up onto a roof and break open a hole if that’s what it takes to get my friends to Jesus.

It’s easy to find my self chasing peace – a way to cope with stress, anxiety, fears, life. But rather than chasing the source of peace, too often I find myself chasing the feeling of peace. It’s that feeling that comes when all is right in my world – the feeling when the bills are paid, the children are doing well, and work is going smoothly. It’s that feeling when everything is easy and I’m not worried about what’s going wrong.

But the problem with chasing this feeling is that I’m not really chasing peace, I’m chasing easy. And when I’m chasing easy, I find myself chasing things that make my life easier. I chase after more money and less work. I pursue after more friendships so I won’t feel lonely and making sure I keep my family healthy so we aren’t stressed. And while none of these things are wrong, in fact many things that make life easier are worth doing, when they become my goal and my focus, maintaining that feeling of peace becomes difficult.

Because life is not always smooth sailing. People you love get sick. Money gets tight. Work can be stressful. Friendships come and go, and life doesn’t always work out the way we planned. And suddenly that feeling is nowhere to be found.

But you know Who is found in the moments that don’t feel peaceful? Jesus. The Prince of Peace.

He’s the one that’s worth pursuing. He is peace when the bills are paid and He is peace when you don’t know how you’ll make the check stretch until the next one. He is peace when you are healthy and He is peace when the doctor tells you he can’t do anything. He is peace when you are surround by friends and He is peace when you are all alone. He is peace when life is easy and He is peace when life is chaos.

He IS peace. The storms of life around you can never shake that. Chasing the feeling of peace can give us momentary rest, but in the end is exhausting. But pursing the one who is the Prince of Peace means that we have peace no matter what our world looks like right now. Pursuing after Jesus means we can rest fully in the knowledge that He is in control and He is with us every step of the way.

The Lord told me to move and so I started walking, one foot after another. I took step after step. But when I looked down the path He told me to follow, a mountain stood in my way. I could see it, far ahead, cutting off the path He told me to walk.

“Let’s go around,” I told Him, convinced my finite knowledge knew better, “There are other paths we can take.”

“Keep going,” came His reply.

“I can’t go this way that you are leading me. There’s a mountain in my way.”

“Keep walking,” He spoke again.

Step after step, I came closer to the mountain, trying desperately to understand why He would lead me this way. And the closer I came, the larger the mountain looked. What had once looked difficult now looked impossible.

Still He spoke, “Keep going.”

Until the path He had me on led right to the base of the mountain I’d seen and feared for so long.

“It’s impassable!” I cried, starting back at the path behind me, mourning wasted time on a wasted path.

“Keep walking,” He spoke.

“There’s a mountain in my way!”

“Tell it to move,” came His voice.

I stared up at the mountain – impassible. impossible. so much larger than me. But I looked up at my God – the One larger than the mountain. With a deep breath, I told the mountain to move. And it moved, not in my power, but His. I looked up at Him, waiting, and He spoke,

“Keep walking.”

So I did, but this time I didn’t look ahead for obstacles in my way. This time, I kept my eyes fixed on Him, instead. More obstacles likely lay ahead, but that was okay. I’d made my focus the mountain before, but it was never about the mountain. I kept my eyes on Him because it was about my obedience to the Mountain Mover.

It is easy for my heart to become weary, sometimes because of the weight of this life and sometimes because of the weight of the ugliness I allow inside.

Things like pettiness, jealousy, pride, anger. Weights that go by names such as comparison and fear, insecurity and shame.

These weights become heavy cargo on the ship that is my heart. They slow me down and threaten to pull me under. Instead of being the source of comfort, the steady supply I allow to fill my heart at times keeps me from walking in the fulfillment of what God calls me to.

And when the storms of life come, I struggle to stay afloat.

May I throw the weights overboard that I have allowed to fill my heart. Instead of clinging to them and securing them more tightly, may I lay them at the feet of the One who promises to feel my heart with things much more valuable. Instead of finding new spaces for weights to fit, I want to make room for the joy, peace, and contentment Jesus provides.

Sometimes my heart is weary because life is hard, and sometimes my heart is weary because I am not willing to let go of what weighs it down. And like the psalmist, I cry, “Create in me a clean heart, O God,” so that this ship can go wherever He leads (Psalms 51:10).