Mary Magdalene, the one from whom He had cast out seven demons.

That title, attached so casually to the end of her name, has always made me cringe. To be so boldly defined by her past seemed unfair. For her distinguishing factor to be who she was seemed painful and wrong.

But I wonder if Mary cared. After all, it was who she was, not who she is. In the presence of her Jesus, I doubt she worried about others’ opinions, because He had set her free from the very things they said she was.

We all have our own was – the person we were before Jesus rescued us, broke our chains, set us free.

I was a woman bound by anxiety, depression, and anger. I was a woman who felt far too broken to be fixed. I was a woman who could only be made whole by the Savior.

But that is not who I am. Just like Mary Magdalene, my past does not define my future. I was broken, but, like Mary, my Risen Savior found me and called my name and made me whole.

Your own was, your own past, it doesn’t define you. The only thing it defines is the power of your Savior to deliver, restore, and save. And He found you. He saved you. He delivered you. Let’s tell the whole world, the Savior with the power to rewrite our stories lives!

Fear is loud. It seeks to drown out other voices so that your focus is on it.

Fear is demanding. It tries to pull your eyes and heart from the God you serve onto the situations around you.

Fear is sneaky. It twists the facts to fit its own narrative.

Fear is a thief. It steals your joy, your peace, your days.

Fear is heavy. It sits like a rock on your chest, making it difficult to. move or even breathe.

But fear is a liar. It holds no power we do not give it in our lives.

Fear is weak. It cannot stand before the promises of God’s Word or before the One who keeps those promises.

Fear is defeated by the One who holds all power, who made a way for us to enter into His presence, who fights our battle for us.

Fear only appears powerful when it becomes our focus. Today, may the promises, faithfulness, and power of God fill our hearts and our mind and drive out each fear that would try to force them out.

“Do not be anxious for anything.” (Philippians 4:6 ESV)

When I read these words a couple weeks ago, my first thought was that it sounded a bit like when I finish venting my worries to my husband and the dear man says, “Just don’t worry about it.”

Oh great. Problem solved.

But the thing about anxiety is that it is an an intense focus on our circumstances and our negative feelings when God wants us to be focused on Him.

It doesn’t really matter what the circumstances are, He says in anything and everything to give it to Him with a heart full of gratitude, knowing that He is faithful and able to care for us. Then, and only then can his peace flood our hearts and minds and push out the anxiety.

And the best part is that the reason He can tell us this is because He is Peace. He does not simply have peace to give us but He is the very thing we so desperately seek. When He says not to be anxious, it’s not a dismissive note of our feelings or a empty vote of confidence, it is a command from the Prince of Peace to leave it in His hands.

He doesn’t belittle your circumstance or your fears, He simply asks you to let give it to Him and let Him give you peace in return.

I pray today that despite your circumstances, despite what your feelings tell you, despite how much you want to stay in control, that you would hand over your needs to the Lord and let Him wrap your mind and heart in peace.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven

Ecclesiastes 3:1 ESV

Spring might be my favorite time of year. There is something about the green sprouting across lawns and trees, flowers popping up from the ground, and warmer weather that makes me feel hopeful and alive. Maybe it’s the cool breezes and warm sun. Maybe it’s the little dandelions my daughter offers up with the sweetest voice. Maybe it’s the fact that we are no longer trapped indoors trying to find ways to keep them entertained until bedtime. Whatever it is about it, it brings happiness to my little family. 

But spring is preceded by winter. Cold, dark, and dull. The trees lack leaves and the evenings lack sunlight. The grass is dull and brown, appearing lifeless, just like the trees, but deep within the roots, life flows waiting for the sun to revive it. 

Can you imagine if each winter, when the leaves forlornly sat on our lawns, we chopped down the trees because they appeared dead? Or if when the grass became crispy and brown, we ripped it up and tossed it into the trash because it no longer looked alive?

That would be ridiculous. We know that the plants around us are not dead, but dormant, waiting to spring forth into vibrant, beautiful colors. 

But how often do we classify areas of our life as dead because we are in our own season of winter? We stare at that part of our life that we have prayed prayer after prayer over, looking for signs of life, signs of movement, of renewal. And when nothing happens, it’s easy to speak death over that area of our life. It’s easy to toss it aside, declaring it over, pointless, not worth the prayers or the effort. 

But in our winter, we can trust that the Son is coming. He will not leave us cold and dark, but He brings life, light, and revival. 

Don’t toss aside the things that appear lifeless in your winter. There is a season for everything, and your spring may be just around the corner. Whatever your situation, your unanswered prayer, if there is still breathe in you or the one your are praying for, there is still hope. It may be buried deep and difficult to see now, but when the Son steps in, life can still burst forth into something beautiful.

Because even the longest winter can’t stop spring from coming.

The Friday Jesus was crucified was marked by betrayal, suffering, sacrifice, and death. The Sunday of His resurrection was marked by victory, hope, redemption, and power.

But Saturday in between them was marked by silence.

No one was there to encourage the Christ’s followers that this story was not over. Jesus was in a tomb, sealed and guarded. The disciples were hiding. His family and friends were grieving, and God was silent.

In that moment, there was no visible triumph, no proof of God’s power and faithfulness.

But the silence was not a punishment. It was not evidence of the enemy’s success and the Lord’s defeat. It was simply the moment before the ultimate victory.

So often we let silence define our circumstances as hopeless. We equate it with defeat. But often silence is just part of waiting for that moment our Jesus turns it around.

I pray that today if you feel like you’ve been stuck in silence for what feels like forever, that you would know that you are not forgotten. Know that your prayers are not hitting the ceiling but have made their way to your faithful God.

Hold on in your waiting, in your silence, in those moments when it feels like nothing is happening.

You’ve made it through your Friday, your moment of defeat. Don’t quit on your Saturday, when the silence is deafening. The victory of Sunday is right around the corner.

Are you weary this week? Is anxiety weighing you down? Does shame cling to you, clawing at your heart with its heavy hands? Does sickness, grief, divorce, hurt, or fear loom over you?

This is your reminder that over 2000 years ago, Jesus’ week was filled with choices He made to purchase freedom from those very things.

Each day, He made choices knowing they would lead to the brutal suffering, humiliation, and loneliness of the cross. And He made them for you.

He entered Jerusalem knowing what was coming. He sent Judas to betray Him knowing it would result in His death. He let the guards carry Him away in the garden so that He could die. For you.

He chose the cross for you.

It’s not a feel good story that fits smoothly into our ideas of Easter bunnies and colorful eggs.

But it is a life giving promise of hope, redemption, and restoration for the ugliest, messiest, worst parts of us.

Enjoy this week. Hug your family. Let your kids find candy filled eggs and take silly pictures with bunnies. But please don’t forget the what this week is really about.

He knew what the cost of your freedom was and He willingly, lovingly, and deliberately chose to pay that price for you.

And those things you’re carrying today, He already carried them to the cross. Let Him have them.

When she walked into the room, conversation stopped. Eyes widened even further as she made her way to Jesus’ and knelt to wash His feet with her ointment and her hair. They through each glances across the table. Does He know who she is? Surely the Lord wouldn’t let her touch Him if He knew the kind of woman she is?

In their eyes, she was a woman defined by her past. A sinner then and a sinner now. Her reputation was enough to make them shun her for life. Her mistakes were known and they would not be overlooked.

But the One whose feet she washed, defined her in a different way. He knew of her many sins, her failures, the things she wished she could undo. He was not ignorant of the woman she had been, but this day, she was not that woman.

This day, He called her forgiven.

And the pure love and gratefulness that bubbled up within her could only be expressed through her humble worship as she washed His feet.

So many times, there are many voices that want to define us by our past. They point to our mistakes, our sins.

Christ does not. When He says you are forgiven, you are forgiven. You were a sinner. You are redeemed.

The only reason what we were matters is so that we can understand how much He truly has forgiven you and how much love He deserves in return.

We’ve been forgiven much. May it spring up into humble worship today, no matter who else tries to define you. Because when He says you are forgiven, you are.

The potatoes were boiling over. The table hadn’t been set. The house was absolutely full of guests, and in the middle of it all sat the most important guest she would ever have – the Master. She was doing everything she could possibly do to make his visit into her home absolutely perfect, to serve Him to the best of her ability.

But in the middle of all her guests sat her sister. She was sitting, not cleaning, not cooking, not serving. Sitting. And suddenly she was busting into the group, demanding her sister do what was “right”, and being gently rebuked by the Master all within a few seconds.

To be honest, I understand Martha’s reaction because I am a Martha.

I overcommit, overthink, and overreact far too often. Too often, I try to prove my worth and my goodness by what I do, and suddenly the service that I intended to do for the Master is more about my pride than His glory.

And in those moments, as I hover between pride and longing to rest at His feet like the others, the easiest choice is anger.

But the thing is that there is a time for service, a time to work hard, to do what needs to be done, but there is also a time to sit at Jesus’ feet. His presence is the necessary thing. But if I believe that my good deeds earn His love, I’m going to choose those good deeds over resting in His presence every time.

Because here’s the thing, I can be doing “good” things while neglecting a relationship with Jesus. I can look good on the outside without having sat down and listened to what He has to say. But eventually, if I’m only relying on my own strength, I’m going to get burned out. I’m going to be upset that I am required to serve the Lord in one way when others are not. and end then I’ll up making embarrassing demands of the Lord and others.

I’m a Martha. But I’m learning to find the balance. I’m learning to take the time in His presence so I can serve with a heart that uses it as worship for His glory alone.

I’m a Martha. I’ll never be a Mary. But I can find joy in resting at His feet just like she can.

They tell me that I’ll miss this

And deep down I know they’re right

They tell me that I’ll miss this

But I’m just so tired tonight

They say I’llfor these days

Despite the messes and the tears

They say I’ll look back with yearning

When I think about these years

But the baby won’t stop crying

And the toddler’s mad again

There’s laundry waiting, dishes dirty

I’m ready for this day to end

And I sit down in the middle of it

Toys everywhere

I put my head into my own hands

And little fingers pat my hair

“You okay, mama?” she asks

As her arms squeeze my neck

Her little body cuddles mine

And the world is right just for a sec

The messes, the tantrums, and the tears

I don’t know that I’ll miss those

I don’t think I’ll long for dirty diapers

Or an endless pile of dirty clothes

But the tiny arms that hold me close

Make me change my mind

Because in the middle of the chaos

Are the best things I can find

Baby giggles and toddler stories

Tiny pjs and a goodnight kiss

The little laughs, the late night snuggles

Those are the things I’m going to miss

You can’t have one without the other

Sweet babies and long days

But they tell me that I’ll miss this

And I know it’s true what they say

Have you ever had hope fade despite your best intentions?

You held your breath and crossed your fingers only for things to fall apart.

You pinned your hopes and dreams on the coattails of someone who never intended to take care of you.

You wished with all your might on stars and dandelions but the hopes deep in your heart went unmet.

And so you set aside those hopes. You settled. You quit looking for more, and you caved into the life in front of you.

Hope felt pointless. Hope felt painful. Hope felt hopeless.

But the issue wasn’t the hope you held. The issue was what your hope was built on.

Hope that lasts is not about what we are hoping for, but Who we are hoping in.

My hope, centered on my Savior, cannot be destroyed by the winds of adversity, the storms of life, or the pain of death.

My hope, built on Jesus, stands firm in battle, anchors my soul in moments of despair, and speaks peace in the storm.

My hope is not in this world. It is not in myself or those around me. It does not rely on anything but my Jesus. And my Jesus does not disappoint. He does not fail. He does not break.

Let the sufferings come. Let the winds blow. Let the chaos rush around you. Your hope stands firm. Your hope is sure. You can count on it.