“Don’t blink,” they said. “She’ll be grown before you know it.”
“Soon the moments will be memories.”
In the little years, when the days felt like decades and the nights even longer, those clichés sounded, well, cliché. Yet here we are, embarking on our little girl’s senior year. I’m not sure how we got here this quickly, but ready or not, the school year begins.
I anticipate all the emotions this year (both hers and mine.) We’ll treasure all her lasts as we step into her new firsts. I’ll ache over what’s ending, rejoice over the woman she’s becoming, and worry a little (okay, maybe a lot) over the changes ahead.
And as best I know how, I’ll take these feelings to Jesus.
For 8 ways to pray for our seniors (and all of the kids we love), join me at Bible Study Tools.
What pictures come to mind when you hear the word gentle? A soft breeze? A kid-friendly pet? A woman known for her kindness?
While these images capture some of the word’s meaning, the Bible portrays gentleness in a more audacious way than we tend to assume. For Christians called to “put on hearts of gentleness” (Colossians 3:12), it’s important we understand how the Bible uses this word.
To read about the 4 myths of gentleness I used to believe, hop over to Bible Study Tools.
How can you help someone whose faith is in pieces? When a Christian you love questions beliefs you hold dear, is it possible to walk with them through faith deconstruction?
As someone who experienced the collapse of my faith (and its eventual renewal), I’m deeply grateful for believers who want to come alongside and help. The gift of your presence can make Christ’s love tangible.
If you’ve never walked through deconstruction yourself, however, you may struggle to know just how to help. Understanding the terminology is a good place to begin.
To read more on faith deconstruction and how you can help those walking through it, hop over to
As the words of our song reverberated through the Russian cathedral, the memory of those moments etched itself on my soul. Our mission team had come to tour the church. Inspired by the sanctuary’s beauty, we sang God’s praise from the balcony. Never had I heard more beautiful acoustics.
On our way out, a woman who worked in the cathedral spoke to our translator. With tears in her eyes, she explained how she’d prayed for years to hear God praised in another language. Who knew our spontaneous worship would be the answer to a fellow believer’s prayer?
Moments like this feel like ministry. Surrounded by beauty. Inspired by answered prayer. Serving in a country on the other side of the planet.
Parenting, on the other hand, can feel like anything but ministry. Surrounded by messes. Exhausted by relentless needs. Serving in the very real spaces we call home.
It’s easy to think ministry happens out there through people with seminary degrees and a profound sense of calling.
But what if Jesus views parenting as ministry? And if he does, what does the ministry of parenting look like?
Applause erupted as our daughter stood to receive her third award of the evening. She beamed with excitement while walking on stage. I listened to the praise of both her teachers and peers. My heart swelled with joy. Their words confirmed what I already knew—she’s an incredible kid.
At the same time, I ached for her brother, who received no awards that night. He’s an amazing kid, too. He did well in his classes, and his kind, fun-loving personality won him many friends. Still, he took home no awards.
Oh, the depth of conflicting emotions a parent’s heart can hold in the same moment.
On the way home, our son commented, “I wonder why I didn’t get any awards.” I turned in the front passenger seat and looked at him with compassion. I’ve experienced these gut-wrenching feelings before, too. I know what it’s like to anticipate affirmation and come away disappointed. I know how hard it is to celebrate with a friend while trying to mask my own pain.
How can we help our kids deal with rejection?
For 6 ideas on preparing them for both disappointment and success, hop over to Crosswalk:
