Summertime is often the season for vacations and traveling to exotic locations. In that same spirit, my husband Brent and I boarded a cruise ship and sailed to Alaska this month. It was all that we had hoped for—whale sightings, cooler temperatures, and quality time for just the two of us. (A fellow guest we met on the cruise referred to us as “the lovebirds.” I was totally fine with his assessment of our situation.) Our second day on the ship was a Sunday, so we decided to join 30 or so other believers for a church service in one of the meeting rooms. After sitting and chatting quietly for a few minutes as we waited for the service to begin, a woman sitting at a piano near the back of the room finally spoke up. “It doesn’t look like the person who was supposed to lead us is coming,” she said. “I’m a worship pastor at my church, so I’d be happy to read a passage and lead a few songs.” Everyone agreed with her plan, so she read from the Sermon on the Mount—reminding us not to be anxious—and accompanied us with the chords for 4 or 5 worship songs. Those of us in the room held various postures of worship—standing or sitting, hands raised or clasped in our laps—as we sang songs we recognized from Christian radio. Next, a lanky older man stood and asked permission to share his testimony. Again, we all agreed with his request, then we listened to his story of a baby son born more than 50 years ago who died as a toddler. He shared how this defining moment shaped his faith and prayer life. Then another man told us how we could all be a light for Jesus while we were on the ship, and a third man closed the brief service with a prayer. Brent and I were both moved by the simplicity of our shared experience. We walked away from that uplifting half hour with an appreciation for finding common ground with other believers. There was no discussion of denominations or song service preferences or leadership roles. It was just a gathering of people who love Jesus and know the benefit of time spent praising Him. I was reminded of the camaraderie of that church service later in the week when we were with a different group of shipmates on an excursion to see a glacier. While on a smaller ship slicing through an icy fjord, we saw several whales shooting water into the sky to reveal their location before we saw their bodies and eventually their giant tails slapping the water. Each time the whales surfaced, everyone lucky enough to see them would cry out simultaneously with an “Oh!” It was as if we were one soul, instead of a group of strangers. One of the themes of the trip for me was the word awesome. I definitely overuse this word, but there are times and places where it is the most fitting description of an experience, and this was one of those times. For example, I was in awe as I tried to comprehend the scale of those blue glaciers cutting paths through giant mountains. In his book Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis gave us a location for those moments alone in nature or in shared times of worship or some other place where we experience wonder. He called it the “region of awe.” He wrote, “For I thus understood that in deepest solitude there is a road right out of the self.” I don’t know that in my fallible, self-centered humanity I could live every moment in the region of awe, but I will try to be open to it and ask God to reveal it to me even when I’m not on vacation.

I recently had a brand new experience—jury duty. Without getting into a lot of details, I’ll just say that it was mostly interesting, and the process had the overall effect of making me appreciate our American legal system. One of the key players of that week was the judge, a mild-mannered man who we only saw from the torso and up until he came into the jury room after we delivered our verdict. He had the job of presiding over the arguments made by the opposing counsels and giving us our directions. Honestly, I can’t imagine carrying around the mental and emotional weight of being a judge. It has to be exhausting. Though I know next to nothing about the law (other than what I’ve learned from TV and movies), I do have the Scriptures to tell me about our Ultimate Judge and Final Authority. For instance, Isaiah 33:22 says, “For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our king; it is He who will save us.” It helps to get a little context about this statement from the prophet Isaiah. This was an incredibly difficult time. God’s people were experiencing bleak living conditions. For years, the land had been divided—Israel in the north and Judah in the south. When God gave the prophet Isaiah these words, the Northern Kingdom was losing to the Assyrians, but enemy nations were wreaking havoc on both kingdoms. Even though Judah was ruled by one of the better kings, Hezekiah, the Southern Kingdom would also eventually collapse once Hezekiah was gone. So Isaiah was called on to prophesy about the defeat that was coming. He delivers a lot of “woe to yous” about how bad it was going to be, not only for God’s people, but also for the surrounding nations who God would use to punish His people. You have to wonder if people would head the other direction when they saw Isaiah walking down the street. “Uh-oh. Here comes Mr. Bad News!” But God didn’t just give Isaiah negative headlines to report. God also gave him words of hope, and a reminder that God keeps all His promises—the ones that benefit us and the ones that sting us. So when Isaiah says in verse 22 (as The Message paraphrases it)… “For God makes all the decisions here. God is our king. God runs this place and he’ll keep us safe…” it’s like Isaiah is giving them a little pep talk. He’s saying “It’s going to get really bad…even worse than it already is…but God is always the one who calls the shots. He’s in control.” And just as true as it was 700 years before Christ was born, it’s still true today. Those three job descriptions for God—judge, lawgiver, and king—are the answer to so many questions we may face. Questions like “Why is it wrong to steal?” and “Why should I talk to God first before I make decisions?” and “Why does that evil person keep getting richer/more powerful?” are answered by this verse. As the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end, God has the final say in every situation. And we are blessed by this reality! We could do no good thing without Him!

As an author, one of my favorite things to do (other than actually writing) is go to schools and talk to kids about books. When they pepper me with interesting questions and exhibit the kind of enthusiasm only seen in the classrooms of an elementary school, I feel ready to go home and fire up my laptop so I can create something new for readers. Over the years, I’ve heard them ask everything from “Do you have to write your books in cursive?” to “Do you know J.K. Rowling?” (In case you’re curious, the answer to both questions is no.) They often want to know how long it takes to write a book and how difficult it is to get published. Another common question is “How do you get started writing a book?” That one is a little harder to articulate. With each of my novels and children’s books, there’s been a different spark to inspire a new story, character, or fictional place. The true tales of real life people or an afternoon with nothing going on have both been the catalyst for creating fictional towns and new best friends. Even still, my imagination is just too mysterious to plot on a timeline or break up into a flowchart. I mostly always know what’s going to happen on the last page before I ever start writing page one, but, to a certain extent, I’m on a similar journey with the reader, finding out what’s going to happen as I advance through the story. I came upon this quote from acclaimed author John Irving, “I write the last line, and then I write the line before that. I find myself writing backwards for a while, until I have a solid sense of how that ending sounds and feels. You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story, because it tells you how to sound when you begin.” That definitely has a ring of truth in it for me. The twists and turns of my plots may seem willy-nilly at times, meandering a bit into what seems like unimportant territory, but there’s always a reason for that side trip. Everything is leading toward the big conclusion. Maybe I’ve grown more introspective since I passed the half-century mark, but I’ve begun to wonder if I should be living my life with the “last line” in mind. I realize that I have about as much control of what happens to me as a person strapped onto a roller coaster, but would I speak and act differently if I considered what words might be said at my funeral. I suppose that sounds fairly gloomy, but it could be a challenging exercise: Figure out how to live your life backwards. The Apostle Paul had a lot to say about setting spiritual goals, especially in his letters to the Corinthians and to his friend Timothy. In 1 Corinthians 9, he said, “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly.” There’s the real challenge. Instead of looking only at what’s right in front of me, I should set my sights on something ahead. Something greater, better. Something eternal. One thing I expect will be said at my funeral is that my ending is actually a brand new beginning, the start of an incredible story beyond anything I could ever imagine.

Do you remember going to the school nurse when you fell off the monkey bars or skinned your knee on the sidewalk, and she covered your scrape with medicine? She would put iodine or mercurochrome (if you’re old enough to remember that stuff) on the spot and you would think, “This medicine actually hurts worse than banging up my leg!” But she did it to fight off possible infection. That medicine was burning away germs for our own good. Sometimes the thing that’s best for us is actually painful, which is a helpful mindset as we read Isaiah 12:4 – “In that day you will say: ‘Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted.’” As I read this verse, my first question is, “What does in that day mean?” In the chapters before this one, the prophet Isaiah talks about Israel’s sins and how God would use foreign nations to punish them. But God’s punishment isn’t from a hatred of His people. It’s actually the opposite! Chapter 10 gives us the image of trees being cut down and destroyed. Then chapter 11 talks about a shoot, a little surviving piece of a tree which he calls the stump of Jesse. That’s the father of David and a person in the lineage of Christ. It’s here we start seeing that phrase: “in that day,” like “In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples…” Isaiah warns that the punishment is coming because that’s the only way to bring God’s children back to Him, but in that day God will restore His people. It’s a reminder to remain hopeful and trust God through hard times. This may seem like a stretch, but this verse speaks to me about the long journey of parenting. Sometimes as parents we need to be told that it’s just part of the job description for our kids to be mad at us. I’m guessing it’s a rare occurrence for any kid to initially receive correction and admonishment in a positive way. Most likely, we won’t hear them say, “Thank you for fussing at me, mom, you’re doing a great job holding me to a higher standard.” But I’m here to tell you that you’ve got to do the hard work of being consistent and persistent when you’re raising your kids. You don’t want to exasperate them, like Ephesians 6 warns us about, but don’t be afraid to make them mad at you. When I read this verse, I also see a call to praise God. We talk a lot about what God does for us and how our sins affect us, but starting each day in a position of praise is not only good for our souls and an honest reaction to what He’s done for us, but it’s a command. Like in Psalm 150: “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” If you’re reading this right now, that means you. So, like Isaiah said…”Give praise to the Lord. Proclaim his name. Make known among the nations what he has done.”

As we wrap up the busy month of May, I’ve noticed a popular verse frequently appearing around this time of year. Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” This is one of those verses that a lot of us cling to. We recite it to each other and write it on post-it notes to put on our mirrors. Graduating seniors often choose it as their favorite verse…and for good reason! When you’re at the beginning of a new season, you want to know that God has good things planned for you. But this is also a verse that can be quoted to suit our own situation, possibly ignoring what we’re called to do here and also forgetting the context of what’s happening at this moment in history. Here’s a little insight into what was going on when Jeremiah wrote this. The Book of Jeremiah was written to the people of Judah during the reign of their final five kings and on into the time after the fall of Judah when they were taken into captivity in Babylon. So Jeremiah, the prophet, was given the job of warning the people of Judah that their bad decisions would ultimately bring them into ruin. But of course, they didn’t seem to listen. So when we get to chapter 29, it starts off by saying, “This is the text of the letter that the prophet Jeremiah sent from Jerusalem to…all the other people Nebuchadnezzar had carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon.” What God had promised would happen as a result of their idol-worshipping and general disobedience has happened. So the people must’ve been thinking: “Now what??” We have the advantage of knowing how this story ends, but you can imagine that God’s people were wondering if they had finally done enough damage to their relationship with God that maybe He decided to give up on them and break His covenant with them. But that’s not what happened. God’s faithfulness is beyond what we can even begin to comprehend! Through Jeremiah, God tells the people, “Go ahead and settle down in Babylon. Build houses, plant gardens, get married, have kids. But beware of false prophets who tell you what’s happening. Because here’s what’s actually going on: When 70 years are completed for your exile in Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place.” That’s when we come to verse 11: “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” God is encouraging them by saying, “Sure, 70 years is a long time. In fact, a lot of you won’t see the fulfillment of what comes next, but hang on. I’m working even if you can’t see me.” God is also saying “I know the plans I have for you…” The I is God. He’s the one who knows what’s coming, even though they have no clue! But Jeremiah’s letter goes on to say: “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity…I will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.” There are some promises in Scripture that are specifically for the Israelites at that time, like I’m not necessarily expecting God to release me from captivity in 70 years. But this is a promise we read again and again in God’s Word: If we seek Him, we’ll find Him. Sometimes, maybe even most of the time, it’s in the seeking—not the finding—that we grow! Like we read in Acts 17:27 – “God did this so that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from any one of us.” He’s not hiding! He wants to be found! Ask God where you might be stuck in spiritual captivity. Then ask Him to free you from that place. He’s waiting for you!

I can’t claim anything close to genius status. I’ve never been asked to join Mensa or any other high IQ society. I’m just your regular, run-of-the-mill, average intelligence kind of girl, but I do like to solve a good puzzle from time to time. Nothing really difficult and nothing that requires me solving mathematical equations, just simple head-scratchers. Here are a few examples: “What has to be broken before you can use it?” An egg. “What is at the end of a rainbow?” The letter 'w'. “A man shaves every day, but his beard stays the same.” He’s a barber. And one of my go-to number-related jokes: “What did the zero say to the eight?” Nice belt! There’s not much to these riddles, but if you like paradoxes as literary devices designed to make you think, the Bible is a great source. Riddles were used a lot by Jewish rabbis and wise men. They were supposed to cause the listener to think more deeply and critically. Jesus, the Best Rabbi Ever, was always dropping truth bombs and asking head-scratchers to anyone who would listen—from big crowds to his 12 closest friends. Maybe that’s where John, the Apostle Jesus loved, picked up his affinity for riddles. In his gospel, John loves to lay down a paradox, like when he discusses Jesus’ full divinity and full humanity. And he uses them in his letters of encouragement to the early churches, too. Take 1 John 2:1 for example. “My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.” John says “I write this so you won’t sin” then he says “but if anybody does sin…” So what is he promoting here? In this letter, John is teaching the believers whom he loves (he calls them “my dear children”) how and why to avoid sin, but he’s not naïve. He knows that we all still sin. In the chapter before this, John just wrote: “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” Unfortunately, sin is part of our daily lives. That’s why we need Jesus. Which is why John also writes: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” He provides a way out! And that way out is Jesus as our advocate, our lawyer. John says, “We have an advocate with the Father—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One.” While this idea of having a supernatural lawyer may sound like the most boring comic book hero ever—Super Lawyer to the rescue!—it’s actually part of Christ’s beautiful job description. The ancient Israelites had been taught to think of God in this way for generations—someone to plead for them. Like in Jeremiah where it says: “Yet their Redeemer is strong; the Lord Almighty is his name. He will vigorously defend their cause so that he may bring rest to their land” and “the Lord says: ‘See, I will defend your cause and avenge you.’” God has always been just, and through Jesus and the Holy Spirit we get access and sponsorship. And it’s personal. I get to see an example of someone standing for justice, but also someone willing to stand up for me. There are plenty of lawyers who would do almost anything for their clients, but I doubt they would do what our Advocate did for us. 1 John 2:2 says “He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.” He died for us! So let’s live for Him today!

Library of Congress In 1884, a woman named Belva Lockwood ran for president of the United States. Seeing as how you’ve probably never heard of her, you already know that she didn’t win. Her first campaign for the presidency (she would run again in 1888) came more than 30 years before women received the right to vote, so we can assume the majority of the voting public was not enthralled with the idea of a female president. Just from reading a short article about Belva (I hope it’s okay for me to call her Belva…I wish we were close friends on a first-name basis) in Norah O’Donnell’s book We the Women, you can’t help but be impressed by this woman. She defied the norms of the day in so many ways. She was a teacher at age 14. Then she married, gave birth to a daughter and was widowed soon after. To support herself and her daughter she went back to school, and eventually became a lawyer, though she faced many naysayers during the pursuit of her law degree. And the opposition continued after she passed the bar exam. While in Washington, D.C., Belva saw male lawyers getting around town quickly on bicycles so she purchased a tricycle to level the advantage, but her cycling was met with horror since it wasn’t considered a very ladylike activity. Though she wouldn’t become the first female US President, Belva was the first woman to argue before the Supreme Court. Years later, in the final case she’d argue before the highest court in the land—she was 75 years old, by the way, and still fighting for justice for marginalized people—she won $5 million for the Cherokee nation from the federal government. It was one of the highest settlements awarded to Native Americans at the time. When I think of Belva Lockwood, I think of the word gumption. According to etymonline.com, this word originally meant "common sense, shrewdness, acuteness of practical understanding." Over time, the meaning of gumption shifted to imply “drive, initiative, spirit.” Belva’s life displayed all of these virtues. Her story reminds me of the parable of the Persistent Widow in Luke 18. Here we read about a judge who wasn’t a fair and benevolent man. He “neither feared God nor cared what people thought.” A widow in the town came before the judge to ask for justice in a problem with her enemy. The judge was dismissive, but the woman kept coming back. Eventually, the judge gave in to her persistence, even though it was for the wrong reasons—just so she’d leave him alone. As parables go, this one seems a little odd. Fortunately, Jesus gives the listeners an explanation. He says, “And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly.” If you needed a sign not to give up on a godly pursuit, this is it. God sees your persistence in the face of difficulty. He’s aware of each time you get back up (maybe on a tricycle?) and keep going. So take Jesus’ advice to “always pray and not give up.”

Think of a time when you felt really alone. Maybe you were sick in bed or on a long solo car trip. Maybe you were stuck in an elevator. Or maybe you weren’t physically alone, still surrounded by lots of people moving around you as they continued with their lives unaware of your profound hurt, but you felt in your deepest heart of hearts that you were all by yourself.   When we’re feeling alone and wondering where God is, we have plenty of company, sometimes even people of faith who might surprise us by their times of doubt. For instance, what comes to mind if I say the name Mother Teresa? You would probably think of her selfless love and service to the poorest of the poor in Calcutta, India. Or maybe that she received a vision from Jesus telling her to start the charity that would minister to these often forgotten people.   What you might not think of is her nearly unbearable doubt when it came to her faith. After her death, her private letters were published in the book Come Be My Light . In the book, we learn that for most of her adult life she experienced what some theologians call the “dark night of the soul”—an absence of feeling God’s presence. It was utter loneliness for her. Mother Teresa experienced this painful darkness as if it were her own Calvary—the thirsting and abandonment and pain. Her letters show a constant fear that God would withhold his blessings if she became prideful about their work serving the poor. She was always looking for reasons that God might have pulled away from her. Eventually she realized that by living in that miserable state of abandonment, she could better identify with the people of Calcutta. Just like the people she served, she felt unwanted, unloved, and unclaimed. Her darkness gave her a unique ability to understand the people she ministered to.   Of course, her unique story won’t be the story for every believer. God is so good—He tailors each of our journeys according to our own distinct situations and gifts. But whatever place we find ourselves—in the dark valleys or in green pastures beside still waters—God is there. He got there before us, and stays beside us.   Psalm 73:25-26 says, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” This is a perfect mantra for those tough times. Regardless of the unrealiable nature of our feelings, we can trust that God is at work. And He tells us “Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.”

There’s a joke I’ve heard a lot: “We come from dust and when we die, we go back to being dust. That’s why I don’t dust. It could be someone I know.”   There are a few places in the Bible that talk about our dusty origin story—one being Genesis 2:7, “Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Starting from the “dust of the ground” is about as low as you can get!   Here’s another one from Psalm 103:13-14. It says, “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.” First of all, God knows how we’re formed—that we’re just a pile of dust. Trying to impress God, like we try to impress the people we run into every day, seems like a big, fat waste of time. There’s nothing we can say or do to surprise or wow Him.   But this verse isn’t meant to make us feel worthless. In the preceding verses, it says: “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”   He loves us that much even though He knows everything—and I mean EVERYTHING—about us…where we come from, what we’re thinking, our motivations, all of it. The New Living Translation says, “For he knows how weak we are.” Unless you’re prepping for a job interview, nobody likes to spend much time thinking about our weaknesses, but we want His compassion and we need His intervention on our behalf because we are ultimately so very weak.   Thinking about how God, our Father, has compassion on us makes me think about when my kids were very little. I remember bringing my newborn daughters home from the hospital. They were so little and fragile, and they relied on us to meet all their needs. When they had a dirty diaper or spit up on me, I didn’t just say “Gross, Ella” or “Lucy, you disgust me!” I didn’t shout at them, “Clean yourselves up, girls!” No! I knew them, how they were formed, where they came from, what their weaknesses were. And I had compassion on them. Not because they had something significant to offer me or because I was an exceptional person, but because I was their mom.   This verse also feels a little like it might work in reverse. Like in Matthew 6 when Jesus says, “If you forgive others for the wrongs they do to you, then your Father in heaven will also forgive your wrongs. But if you don’t forgive others, then your Father in heaven won’t forgive the wrongs you do.” So here when it says, “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him,” I wonder if the reverse would be true? Like maybe the person who lacks tenderness and compassion towards others won’t be shown compassion by the Lord. That’s a frightening thought!   Being a parent can often be an inward battle to die to ourselves and to lavish undeserved grace and mercy on our kids. (Which is exactly what God does for us!) Those of us who get to be parents—or those who are around kids we love as if they’re our own—are given a fitting example of how God loves us, and how we’re called to love. God has compassion on us, so he instructs and disciplines us. Out of His great compassion, He comforts us, picks us up when we fall, and He forgives us. A pile of dust couldn’t ask for a better Father!

I recently had one of those “why did I wait so long to do this” moments. After sawing away with my dull kitchen knives, I eventually took them to a local hardware store to get them professionally sharpened. The difference is remarkable! Now I can easily slice through a tomato just like on those old Ginsu knife commercials . (I haven’t tried out the knives on a tin can. Seems a bit excessive.)   There’s an axiom amongst chefs that may seem counterintuitive at first, but I can attest to its accuracy. They say that a dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp one. This is due to the increased chance of slipping and cutting yourself with a knife which requires more force as you saw back and forth to get the job done. A sharp knife will slide right through whatever needs slicing or dicing, leaving your fingers free from cuts.   As I was chopping up ingredients to make salsa with my newly sharpened knives, I thought about Hebrews 4:12. It says “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”   God’s word operates similarly to my kitchen knives in this way. What I’m able to read in the Bible—the stories, the commands, the teachings—often cuts me, and I’m laid bare by the gross complicity of my sin. But God doesn’t bludgeon me with a dull sword. He uses surgical precision to cut away the diseased parts to promote healing. He even goes so far as to attack the hidden things that no one else sees. Like we read in the next verse, “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered.”   This kind of surgery isn’t meant to frighten us. Instead, it’s a testament to God’s love. One of my favorite Timothy Keller quotes is “The gospel says you are simultaneously more sinful and flawed than you ever dared believe, yet more loved and accepted than you ever dared hope.” God sees that nasty, infected part, and He is willing to remove it. All while loving us more than we could ever imagine.   For this type of heart surgery to be most effective, I need a pliable spirit. I need a soft heart. Ezekiel 11:19 says, “I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.” With my knives at their very sharpest, they would still have a hard time slicing up rocks. Sure, God is able to do that kind of miraculous cutting, but if I can approach his throne with humility, acknowledging my need for his mercy and grace, I can make this process less painful for myself.   Thank you, Lord, for your Word—alive and active—which is unlike any other book!

“We are so busy!” That’s the general consensus amongst the people I spend time with the most. If you ask how they’re doing, you may get “Fine!” or “Boy, these allergies are killing me!” but a frequently repeated refrain is about how hectic their schedules are. Work, kids, and other obligations so often keep us hopping. Some, maybe even most, of what creates these busy lifestyles are legitimate responsibilities, but I can’t help but wonder if my inability to slow down is because I’ve created a monster, a Must Keep Moving Monster.   It’s like I’m the human equivalent of a concrete truck. If you’ve ever watched that drum mixer constantly rotating as the truck makes its way to a job site, then you know what I mean. Enroute to the destination, the spiral blades inside the drum churn the still-liquid mixture so that it stays the consistency of a chunky milkshake. Then when the truck arrives at the home or business in need of concrete, the blades are reversed so that the mixture gets sent down the chute. If the drum were to stop rotating too soon, the workers would have a difficult job cleaning out the hardened mess.   While that’s an ingenious way to pour a foundation, it’s not a healthy way for me to live. Just like I wouldn’t survive long inside that drum mixer, my body, mind, and soul need to seek out opportunities when I can just stop moving from time to time. This Monster which I’ve created has convinced me that if I dare to pause I’ll be confronted with a nightmarish mess.   There’s a word we see 74 times in the Bible, and 37 of those instances are found in writings from King David. To be honest, it’s a word I usually just skip over with no notice when I’m reading through the Psalms. It’s the word Selah . There’s some confusion about what this word means. Is it instruction for the singers, like forte or crescendo? Is it meant to divide sections of the text, to prepare the listeners for a transition in the emotions? When it comes at the end of a text, is it like our word Amen —a final “let it be so” we whisper at the close of a string of laments and petitions and praises? The answer to all these questions seems to be yes . This busy, little word does all of those things in our psalms, but Selah also encourages us to pause and listen. It reminds us to lift up the words of the psalms that we’re singing.   As we enter into this new season, a time of beauty and growth, let’s get out of our routines of constant motion and instead prioritize rest. I’m trying to be aware of how I spend my minutes, not because I need to be more efficient with my time, but because I need to slow down. I need to stop feeling the need to be entertained (I’m looking at you, cellphone!), and spend a few glorious moments each day basking in mindless boredom. Now that I think about it, that’s usually when the epiphanies come to me. My A-ha ’s usually coincide with my Ho-hum ’s.   If you want to try this, too, here’s a good starting spot to get your brain in the Selah mode. Psalm 143:5-6 says, “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.  Selah. ”

I have this memory from when I was little of holding a heavy rectangular paperweight in my hand, staring through the thick slab of wavy glass to read these words beneath: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” I don’t know why that memory keeps popping into my mind or where that paperweight is or, come to think of it, why paperweights are a thing in the first place. I mean, who’s doing paperwork in such windy places that they need a pound of glass to hold their piles of paper in place anyway?   But thinking of that paperweight and that verse makes me think of my mom. While her mind continues to weaken from the effects of Alzheimer’s disease, she shows me a strength I wasn’t expecting. Last week, we sat in her living room and performed her favorite activity—singing from the hymn book. Though she can’t remember who I am and she can no longer read, she can recall the words to at least the first verse and chorus of so many sacred songs.   Her wholehearted singing is enthusiastic when she spreads her hands palms-up and sings, “He is my everything/He is my all/He is my everything/Both great and small.” Her voice is plaintive and serious when she sings, “Abide with me: fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide. When other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.”   Though we hate that her mind is slowly subtracting her from us, we try to look on the bright side. We’re grateful that for the most part, the disease hasn’t made her angry or scared. She’s pleasant and happy to see anyone who stops by for a visit (this includes birds at the backyard bird feeder). She’s sees beauty everywhere, often colors and shapes swirling around just beyond her reach that we can’t see but bring her such joy.   When I’m at her house, she compliments me nonstop—my appearance, my singing, and any other thing I say or do. (To be honest, I did do a really good job setting her glass of orange juice on the TV tray, so her effusive praise of that act makes perfect sense.) She doesn’t remember about war or crime or taxes, so she doesn’t seem to have a worry in the world. She has little appetite, so she’s not thinking about her next meal. She’s unconcerned about her appearance, positively delighted to wear one of my dad’s polo shirts as if it were her Sunday best. The one thing she asks for is usually to go to bed once it gets dark.   In some ways, it’s as if all of her thoughts have been boiled down into one concentrated thing—loving on the person in front of her right now. It’s like that paperweight and the distortion caused by the glass when I looked through it. So many things were in the way of really reading that truth, but for her, at least in this one way at this specific time, the glass has been shattered.   When the Apostle Paul wrote those words about finding strength through his faith in Philippians 4, he wasn’t talking about something from the Marvel Universe. This wasn’t Captain America or the Hulk saying, “I have super powers! I can do ALL things!” The key to this verse is in the previous verses where Paul said he knew the secret of being content, whether in times of need or in times of plenty. That secret is relying on Christ. In tough times, I can also cling to this same time-worn promise: “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”