When their little eyes lock onto me, I’m reminded that they’re watching everything I do.

They see the places I go and what I spend my time on. They hear the words I say and the things I listen to.

They see me, all of me, the parts I am proud of and the parts I wish I did better.

And they learn more from what I’m doing than what I’m telling them to do. They watch me, and they replicate what they see.

One day, they will be old enough to have many more people they look up to, aspire to be, and try to follow in their footsteps.

But today, the only footsteps they’re following are mine – through the kitchen and the play room, in the morning and at bedtime. Their little footsteps trail behind mine and their little eyes take in much more than I realize.

I pray they see a path worth following. I pray their eyes see things worth repeating – things like faith, joy, strength, and hope. I pray they learn a love for Jesus and a love for people, not because mama told them to, but because mama lived it.

One day, their eyes will take in this whole big world, but today I am their world. May I live a life that prepares them for what lies ahead.

It’s so easy to wrap my fingers

Around things that aren’t really mine

Holding on so tightly

Wanting life by my design

I cling to my own ideas

My future mapped out by me

I desperately try to control

The way things are going to be

Holding on so tightly

Can make me feel so very worn

And the things I thought I held together

I’ve really only torn

Letting go of what I want

Can seem a frightening thing

But really the most frightening

Is not giving it to My King.

When life seems chaotic

And I struggle to let go

I’ll lay what’s His down at His feet

And trust He’s in control

The woman at the well. The Samaritan woman. The woman who people avoided and who avoided people.

How many people saw her but didn’t see her? How many saw only her shame, her mistakes, her failures, her sin? How many didn’t want to see, averted their gaze, and hurried past to avoid the shame of being associated with a woman like her?

Not Jesus. He saw her. All of her. He saw her shame and her sin, yes. He saw her pain. Her loneliness. Her fear. Her secrets. And He saw her need.

This is a woman who had likely spent years hiding the most shameful parts of herself from others. No one would accept her if they knew what she had done. But Jesus didn’t ask her to hide any of it from Him, in fact, He already knew every secret and He came to her anyway. He came to set her free from the sin that others ignored. He came to give her freedom from the chains others left locked. He came to Samaria to see her, the one no one else would look at.

And He still goes out of His way today for the one’s that others don’t want to see. He sees us, our shame, our sin, our pain, and instead of turning away, He steps forward to speak life into the places we thought would always be dead. Don’t let your shame keep you away from Jesus. Don’t let your shame keep you away from the only one who can set you free from it. He’ll speak life and He’ll change you from the person that no one wanted to see to the person who tells others the Messiah has come and changed your life.

A mother’s request. A chance to ask the Son of God for anything on behalf of her children.

I wonder if she regretted her choice, her plea for a position for her sons that would give them power and prestige.

She could have asked for anything. I wonder if she realized she’d wasted her opportunity.

I bring my children before the same Savior daily. With a mother’s request of my own, I can ask for power and prestige. I could ask for wealth or position.

But standing before the One who showed us what it meant to be humble and serve, I don’t want to regret my choice.

Instead I want to ask that He give them a heart that seeks Him first, faith that doesn’t shake when life gets hard, love that overflows into the way they treat others, boldness to share the gospel, and joy that comes from Him. I want to ask that they are not afraid to answer whatever call He has for them. More than wanting to raise women who’s name will be remembered, I want to raise women who make sure Jesus’ name is known.

With two little girls beside me and Jesus in front, this mama’s request is not that they’ll have power, fame, or a prominent position. My prayer is they’ll love Jesus and they’ll love others. The Lord can work out the rest.

I am not a person who likes change. I crave consistency, dependability, and faithfulness.

And yet, everything around me moves in constant motion.

The seasons change.

People change.

I change.

As the world shifts, my steps can feel unsteady. My hands can grasp for things no longer within reach. My heart yearns for something constant and sure.

Too often, I let that yearning cause me to hold more tightly to the life I have, trying to control things I never had power over. Yet, maybe the every-changing world around me isn’t a punishment, but instead meant to point me towards my steadfast God.

When life makes me weary with the constant back and forth, when I’m feeling lost within the maze of change,

I know the One who remains the same.

And when my heart cries out for steadiness, I will cling to the hand of the One who never changes.

Give me eyes like yours, Lord

That see life instead of death

Give me eyes like yours, Lord

That see You’re not finished yet

Give me eyes that see the broken

The hurting and the lost

Give me eyes that look for ways to help them

No matter what the cost

Give me eyes that see a miracle

When it looks beyond repair

Give me eyes that see the victory

Instead of give in to despair

Give me eyes like yours, Lord

That see hope when there is breathe

Give me eyes like yours, Lord

That see life instead of death

Freedom.

Today, we celebrate because as Americans, we know about freedom. We know it came with a price. We know it was worth the cost. We know it is valuable and we know we can’t let it go. We know it’s more than red, white, and blue banners and firework shows to finish the night. We know not everyone has it, and that we need to be grateful that we do.

We are American. We know freedom.

And with the flags waving, burgers cooking, and cookies baking, I’m grateful that I know freedom because I know Jesus. I know my freedom cost more than I could pay. I know Jesus thought my freedom was worth the cost. I know my freedom is something hold on to, to stand up for, to never let go. I know it is more than just my church attendance and the clothes I wear. It is redemption, victory, freedom. And although anyone can have that freedom, not everyone does, and I don’t want to forget to be thankful that by His grace, I do.

I was a sinner. I am redeemed. I was broken. I am whole. I was trapped. I am delivered. I know about freedom. My freedom has a name and scars in his hands that paid my debt. I know about freedom because I know Jesus.

The weight of your cross can feel heavy, unbearable, and difficult. It can seem unfair, unjust, unnecessary. It can feel lonely and painful.

And yet, Christ asks us to pick it up and follow Him.

His words are not just a demand from someone who sits as you struggle to bear the weight of your own cross. They are the words of someone who has carried His own cross burdened with the weight of our sin, our shame, our disease, our despair. They are the words of someone who has walked the lonely road with wounds taken to heal our sickness and blood spilled to wash our sins away.

The same voice that commands us to pick up our cross is the one who cried, “Father forgive them,” as He hung suspended on His.

Your cross may be heavy. Your cross may be painful. Your cross may be lonely. But your are following the One who has power to bring victory from the pain, shame, and death of the cross.

He carried His cross so that you could have the strength to carry yours and He did it first so you wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Have you ever felt far from the Lord? Broken and bruised? As if everything was pushing against you, keeping you from getting closer?

Maybe, like the disciples, you have rowed through out the night, trying in vain to get back to Jesus, but in the darkest moment of the night, you were “a long way from land” (Matt. 14:24, ESV).

It can be hard in the fourth watch of the storm to see hope, to see Jesus. Everything looks alarming, and sometimes it’s difficult to even recognize that it’s Jesus walking towards you, and not one more thing to fear.

If you are there, scrambling to keep the boat of your life held together and close to Jesus, as everything threatens to push you farther and rip you apart, I pray you’ll listen to the words of Jesus as He steps onto the wild sea of your life,

“Take Heart; it is I. Do not be afraid,” He calls (Matt. 14:27, ESV).

Look up. Look at Him, not the waves, not the battered vessel you are clinging too, not how far dry lands seems. Look to Jesus.

Look to Jesus as He walks on the very things trying to destroy you. Look to Jesus. He’s walking your way.

The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.

Exodus 14:14

Egypt behind them. The Red Sea ahead. They could surrender to the Egyptians. They could attempt to fight the enemy themselves. Or they could stand still and watch God give them their deliverance.

Like many of us, their first response was despair, complaining, and a willingness to return to the slavery they had just escaped. But all that would accomplish was more heartache for themselves and their children.

Perhaps they could have fought off the Egyptians. More than likely they would have been defeated in their own strength, and once and returned to the slavery they had been delivered from. But even if they had somehow won the battle, the Egyptians would have continued to pursue them. They could not have destroyed every single one of them, and they would likely have found themselves caught later with no escape still.

But God had bigger plans than the Israelites could imagine. He wanted to deliver them from Egypt, from their land of slavery, but He also wanted to ensure that they never had to face this enemy again. His goal was not just momentary freedom, but lasting freedom without having to live in fear, looking over their shoulders, for their enemy to return. And He knew that He was the only one that could do that.

How many times do I try to fight my own battles when God is waiting to do what only He can? Sometimes it’s out of impatience. Sometimes it’s out of a desire to control. Sometimes it’s out of frustration and wanting to “fix” something my way. Sometimes it’s out of fear.

But most the time, I either find myself right back where I started or I end up only momentarily pushing back the problem, waiting for the day it comes crashing back into my life.

If I want see God move, sometimes I have to be willing to stand still, even as I’m watching the army racing towards me. Because no matter what I see behind me, I know the One that stands with me is far more capable of setting me free than I could ever be.