Which Light Am I Looking For — the Refrigerator, Headlight, or God's Light? Reflection on Valentines Day and what it takes to stay married

 

Self-discipline is not an easy word to embrace. It pushes against comfort, quick relief, and the human desire to have everything now. But as I’ve grown in faith, I’ve come to see that discipline is not about restriction—it’s about direction. It’s a way of saying, “Lord, I trust You enough to follow Your wisdom instead of my impulses.”

Self-discipline is, at its heart, an act of yielding. It’s laying down our will so that God can shape our choices, our habits, and even our physical desires to align with His truth. It’s about preparing for tomorrow—financially, physically, and spiritually—so we can walk faithfully in what He has prepared for us.

The Greek word skandalon—translated as “stumbling block” or “offense”—literally means to entice into a snare or trap. It paints a vivid picture of how sin operates. Rarely does temptation present itself as something harmful. Instead, it lures us with comfort, convenience, or control—offering quick satisfaction at the cost of long-term peace.

That snare might come in the form of overspending when stress hits, overeating to soothe emotions, or turning to a substance that dulls the pain of a weary body or mind. It can be as subtle as overmedicating to avoid discomfort or as spiritual as excusing sin under the banner of “just surviving.”

Yet every shortcut comes with a price. Sin and self-indulgence promise ease but lead to bondage. Jesus warned of this when He said, “If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off… It is better for you to enter life crippled than with two hands to go to hell.” (Mark 9:43, ESV) His words are not about physical harm—they are a call to radical separation from whatever entangles the soul.

Real self-discipline is not punishment—it’s protection. It guards our hearts from choices that may comfort us today but harm us tomorrow.

In recent years, Bruce and I have learned this lesson firsthand. Health challenges have changed how we live, move, and even think about time. There was a season when the pace of life slowed whether we wanted it to or not, and our plans had to bend to new realities.

We found ourselves learning to live within limits—not out of defeat, but out of wisdom. When your strength is not what it used to be, you realize that every ounce of energy, every decision, and every dollar must be used intentionally.

Some days, discipline looks like saying no to extra commitments and choosing rest instead of busyness. Other days, it’s saying yes to a walk, a simple meal, or a slower pace—choices that feel small but carry long-term strength.

God has used these limitations to teach us that discipline is not a burden—it’s a grace. It’s His way of training us to trust, to plan with His wisdom, and to live in ways that reflect His care.

As our bodies age or face illness, it’s natural to long for relief. Pain, fatigue, or anxiety can wear us down to the point where we crave an escape. In those moments, the world offers a thousand quick fixes: another pill, another drink, another indulgence, another distraction.

There’s nothing wrong with medical care when it’s used wisely—God gives knowledge to doctors and healing through medicine. But there is a quiet temptation to depend on medication or substances to numb what God may be using to refine.

When discomfort becomes our master, we stop yielding to God’s direction. We begin seeking peace through something other than His presence. It might bring temporary relief, but it rarely brings lasting restoration.

The danger lies not just in the substance, but in the substitution—replacing the comfort of the Holy Spirit with something man-made. Jesus said plainly, “Unless you believe that I am he you will die in your sins.” (John 8:24) When we rely on the wrong source, we drift from truth and lose the power of the Spirit who brings real healing.

Our choices—what we eat, spend, and depend on—are all acts of stewardship. God cares about every detail of our living because each one reflects our trust in Him.

Proverbs says, “The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes only to poverty.” (Proverbs 21:5) Hasty choices, whether financial or physical, often lead to hardship later. But disciplined choices—steady, patient, prayerful—build foundations that can endure trials.

Living on a fixed income or with changing health means planning ahead. It means learning the value of enough, letting go of waste, and trusting God to multiply what remains. It means using resources wisely, not from fear, but from gratitude for what He provides.

Self-discipline also calls us to care for our bodies. As Paul writes, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you…? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20)
Eating well, resting, and moving in ways that preserve health are not self-centered acts—they’re forms of worship.

I’ve come to see that discipline in a weary or aging body looks different than it once did. It’s no longer about chasing perfection or productivity. It’s about persistence.

Paul writes, “I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.” (1 Corinthians 9:27) The older I get, the more I understand that verse. The discipline Paul spoke of was not just physical; it was spiritual resolve—a determination to stay faithful in the midst of weakness.

Some mornings, it’s an act of obedience simply to get out of bed, take medication as prescribed, and trust God with the day. Other days, discipline means denying the urge to self-medicate out of frustration or fatigue. It means turning to prayer instead of the pantry, to Scripture instead of self-pity.

Each choice, however small, becomes an offering—saying to the Lord, “I trust You more than I trust this temporary fix.”

Jesus said, “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Matthew 10:28)

That verse reminds us that our physical life, while precious, is temporary. Our true preparation must be for eternity. The way we treat our bodies, spend our money, and respond to temptation reflects our reverence for the One who holds our eternity.

Every disciplined choice echoes into forever. Every moment of yielding to God’s direction strengthens the soul for the day when faith becomes sight.

Paul said it best in 2 Corinthians 5:9–11:

“So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please Him. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.”

Preparation for eternity demands the whole truth—and that includes how we live in these bodies today.

Discipline without grace leads to exhaustion. Grace without discipline leads to drift. We need both.

There are days when I give in to comfort rather than calling, when I let worry outweigh worship. Yet God is patient. “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” (1 John 1:8) His mercy meets me in the middle of my mess, gently reminding me that yielding is not about perfection—it’s about progression.

Through Christ, we are empowered to live differently. “Those whom He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son.” (Romans 8:29)
Each act of self-discipline—each refusal of an unhealthy escape, each wise financial choice, each small step of obedience—shapes us more into His likeness.

The more we yield, the freer we become.  This is what it takes to keep a healthy focus on what is true and real.  When we are able to keep our focus on what is true and ourselves healthy, we are then able to remember to keep focus on what is most important in our lives.  Staying married is not easy and no picnic somedays.  But the rewards at the end of life are worth it.  The small moments of remembering why you got married in the first place keeps you focused on what was true yesterday and what will be true tomorrow.  The feelings of today will pass and the troubles of today are a passing event.  Nothing is forever except one thing.  That will keep our focus on what is true!

Redeeming Hope For Daughters of Eve

Taken by Beth Herrington Kruprzak

Each winter break, I return to a familiar and beloved tradition: watching the Chronicles of Narnia films and rereading the books that have shaped my imagination since childhood. I’ll confess—I’ve likely read the series more than twenty times. And yet, with every new year and every new season of life, the stories speak again with fresh clarity.

One title in Narnia has always stood out to me: Daughter of Eve.

In Narnia, to be called a Daughter of Eve is to be named according to origin and inheritance. Eve represents both glory and fall—created good, capable of love and wisdom, yet vulnerable to deception when she steps outside of God’s truth. Woman, like man, was created for obedience to God before autonomy, for stewardship rather than domination.

As we step into a new year, full of plans, goals, and hopes, the Daughters of Eve in Narnia—and the first Daughter of Eve in Scripture—offer us a steady, hopeful vision for how to walk forward faithfully.

One of the quiet strengths of the Daughters of Eve is memory. They remember Aslan’s presence, the old stories, and the weight of the promises—even when others doubt or forget. Lucy, especially, becomes a living repository of truth. When others question what she knows to be real, she remembers anyway.  The Daughter of Eve who remembers rightly becomes a compass for others.

As women today, we are surrounded by noise—opinions, expectations, and ever-shifting definitions of success and identity. Entering a new year requires discernment. Like Lucy, we are called to remember what God has already spoken, even when it sets us apart.

Lucy’s desires are strong. She longs for Aslan, for Narnia restored, for goodness to prevail. But her desires are consistently submitted to obedience. When Aslan tells her to follow Him alone in Prince Caspian, she obeys—even when it isolates her.  Lucy models true discipleship—obedience that sharpens desire rather than suppressing it. Her leadership does not come from asserting herself, but from aligning herself with Aslan.

Susan’s story, by contrast, is more painful. Her desire shifts toward comfort, reputation, and a version of maturity shaped by the world. Susan’s tragedy is not femininity—it is forgetfulness of what the truth is.

This tension is deeply familiar as we enter a new year. When desire detaches from truth, faith slowly erodes. The Daughter of Eve who stops listening to Aslan does not become free—she becomes lost.  The Stone Table in Narnia represents foundational truth—moral law, sacrifice, and justice. In Narnia, love fulfills the law, but never without a great cost.  Lucy and Susan are present and faithful witnesses as Aslan gives His life. (I’ll admit—I am always the blubbering woman in the corner when the mice begin to chew Aslan free and we see His return.)  And the the Daughters of Eve are there to witness the return of Aslan.

When I think about the very first Daughter of Eve—Eve herself—what stands out most is this: she never struggled with identity.

Eve did not wonder who she was or why she was here. God Himself formed her with intention and purpose.

Then the LORD God said, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him. — Genesis 3:15, ESV

This verse is the very first glimpse of the gospel. From Eve’s lineage would come the Savior—Jesus Christ—who would crush the serpent’s head once and for all.

Even after the fall, Eve’s story does not end in shame, but in hope.

“The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living.” — Genesis 3:20, ESV

There is quiet strength in that moment. Eve’s identity was not erased by her failure—it was redeemed through God’s promise.

As we step into a new year, we live in a world full of shifting definitions—of womanhood, truth, and purpose. Eve’s story reminds us that our identity was never meant to be found in culture, performance, or perception. It is found in our Creator.

Like Eve, we are God’s design—created on purpose, with purpose, and for His glory. Like Lucy, we are called to remember what is true. Like the faithful queens of Narnia, we are invited to lead not by control, but by obedience rooted in love.

The enemy still whispers lies—inviting us to redefine ourselves, chase fulfillment outside of God’s boundaries, or question His goodness. But each time we return to God’s Word, we hear the same truth Eve once knew before the fall: we belong to Him.

As Daughters of Eve, may we enter this new year with clear vision, submitted hearts, and steady hope—trusting the deeper magic written by God Himself, fulfilled in Christ, and alive in us today.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. — Proverbs 3:5–6, ESV 2:18, ESV*

Eve opened her eyes in a perfect world, unmarked by sin or sorrow. She walked with God. She lived without comparison, confusion, or cultural noise. Her identity was not something she searched for—it was breathed into her by her Creator.

But what Eve did not yet have was experience. She had never encountered deception. The serpent’s whisper was the first lie she had ever heard. And in her innocence, she reasoned that if the fruit looked good, surely it must be good.

But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil. — Genesis 3:4–5, ESV

 “In all probability the reptile called the serpent was a nobler creature before the Fall than now. The words of our text, so far as they literally concern the serpent, threaten that a change would be brought in him. It has been a sort of speculative opinion that the creature either had wings, or was able to move without creeping upon the earth as it now does.” (Charles Spurgeon)

Mathew Poole says the woman wasn’t surprised at the serpent’s speaking because Adam and Eve had free conversation with angelic beings that often appeared in the form of men. If this is true, it wasn’t so strange to Eve that an angelic being might appear to her in the form of a beautiful pre-curse serpent.

Eve reached for what she believed would bring wisdom and fulfillment—but instead it brought sorrow and separation. And yet, I do not see Eve as a hopeless failure. I see her as the first woman to learn what we all eventually discover: apart from God’s truth, even the most appealing choice can lead us astray.

From the beginning, Satan has tried to undermine God’s people by undermining God’s word. He can undermine just as effectively by getting us to neglect God’s word as by getting us to doubt it. Satan took God’s positive command in Genesis 2:16-17 (Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat) and rephrased it in a purely negative way: “God won’t let you eat of every tree.”   We can almost hear Adam telling Eve, “See that tree in the middle of the garden? Don’t touch it or God says we’ll die!” While this is better than saying nothing, what Adam didn’t explain made a vulnerable place where Satan could attack.  Satan drew Eve into a discussion with him and planted the seed of doubt about God’s word, and he exposed Eve’s incomplete understanding of God’s word. Now he moves in for the kill, with an outright contradiction of what God said. 

The woman saw that the tree was good for food: Eve’s perceptions were partially true and partially false. The tree was not really good for food, though Eve was deceived into thinking it was so. The fruit probably was pleasant to the eyes, though that shouldn’t mean much. And it was only true in Eve’s mind that the tree was desirable to make one wise.   Not only did Eve sin but she became the encourager of temptation for Adam. But when Adam ate, he was not deceived as Eve was. Adam sinned with his eyes wide open, in open rebellion against God.  When Adam sinned, they died. They passed from immortality to mortality; the principle of death was now introduced. It would be many more years until Adam would breathe his last, but death started working in him and Eve immediately, and they could feel it. Something was wrong, something was missing, something had to be covered up. 

Since the sin of Adam, death has completely reigned over humanity (Romans 5:17). Everyone who is born dies. No one survives. When a baby is born, it isn’t a question of whether the baby will live or die.  The only question is when. Adam and Eve must have been terrified as this once-beautiful creature called a serpent was transformed into the creeping, slithering, hissing snake we know today. They must have thought, “It’s our turn next!” 

So, Adam and Eve lied, trying to cover themselves with fig leaves.  Even in Eve’s failure, God did not abandon her. He clothed her. And He spoke a promise.

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” — Genesis 3:15

For God to see the defeat of Satan at Satan’s first attempt of victory shows God knew what He was doing all along. God’s plan wasn’t defeated when Adam and Eve sinned because God’s plan was to bring forth something greater than man in the innocence of Eden. God wanted more than an innocent woman; His plan was to bring forth redeemed Daughters of Eve.

The Turning Of Yet Another Year

 

Taken by Beth Herrington Kruprzak

Today is the first day of 2026 — New Year’s Day.
Christmas has passed, the decorations are coming down, and many hearts are settling into reflection. According to Jewish custom, it has now been about a week since Jesus’ birth — around the time of His naming and circumcision (Luke 2:21). By the end of this month, Mary and Joseph will walk into the temple to present their Son to the Lord (Luke 2:22–24).

It is there, in that sacred but ordinary place, that scripture introduces us to a woman whose name appears in only three verses, yet whose life has spoken across centuries.

Her name is Anna.

As I reflect on her story this year, I do so with fresh tenderness — realizing how closely I came to walking in her shadow this past year, alongside dear sisters who are walking that path now, having lost their husbands during 2025. Like Anna, many women today are learning what it means to move from a life of marriage into a life of altered purpose — not by choice, but by providence.

And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four.
— Luke 2:36–37a, ESV

Anna was a prophetess, a woman recognized for spiritual insight shaped by deep communion with God. She was from the tribe of Asher, one of Israel’s northern tribes that had long been scattered and largely forgotten. Even her lineage reminds us that God sees faithfulness where the world does not.

Her personal story includes both love and loss. She knew marriage — briefly — and then she knew widowhood for decades.

In first-century Jewish culture, widows were vulnerable and often overlooked. Their social standing was limited, their voices rarely amplified. Yet Anna did not withdraw into bitterness or obscurity. Instead, she anchored her life in the presence of God.

She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day.
— Luke 2:37b, ESV

This does not mean Anna lived possible within the temple walls, but that her life revolved around God’s presence. Worship was not a season for her — it was her posture.

She lived through:

• Personal grief
• Roman oppression
• Generations of prophetic silence

Still, she remained faithful.

Anna chose prayer when words failed her grief.
She chose fasting when pain lingered unanswered.
She chose trust when understanding never came.

She teaches us something profoundly important:
communion with God is not born from an absence of problems, but from a daily decision to fix our hearts on a faithful God.

As Paul would later write:

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.
— Colossians 3:2, ESV

Anna lived this truth long before it was written.

For decades, Anna waited — not passively, but prayerfully. She waited for Israel’s redemption, for God’s promises to unfold, for light to break through long silence.

Then one day, without announcement or spectacle, fulfillment arrived.

Mary and Joseph entered the temple carrying a child. Simeon took Jesus into his arms and proclaimed that he had seen God’s salvation (Luke 2:25–32). At that very moment, Anna stepped forward.

Her long years of faithfulness culminated in a single holy recognition:
the Messiah had come.

Not wielding a sword.
Not claiming a throne.
But as the Ancient of Days clothed in flesh — eternity wrapped in swaddling clothes, redemption arriving quietly.

Anna responded with thanksgiving and proclamation. She spoke to those who were also waiting — because waiting women recognize one another.

And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.
— Luke 2:38, ESV

Anna refused to be crushed by pain, guilt, or bitterness. Instead, she was strengthened by relationship with God. That strength did not remove her circumstances — but it transformed her purpose.

Her joy was not circumstantial.
Her peace was not situational.
It flowed from intimacy with God.

Anna is not remembered for titles, positions, or visible achievements — but for a heart that remained before God even when everything seemed silent.

She trusted when she did not understand.
She prayed when grief left her wordless.
She fasted when hope felt thin.

Though Anna lived years before the church was established, her life reflects the very heart of what Scripture later calls women to be:

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior… They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women…
— Titus 2:3–5, ESV

Anna ministered not through formal teaching, but through faithful presence, lived devotion, and proclamation of truth. She was a spiritual mother to those waiting alongside her — modeling perseverance, reverence, and hope.

In a culture that overlooked widows, God elevated one.
In a season of silence, God gave her a voice.
In a world that discounted women’s influence, God entrusted her with announcement.

Anna’s story reminds us that purpose does not end when a season ends.

Marriage may change.
Dreams may shift.
Life may look nothing like what we imagined.

Yet God is not finished.

Waiting is not wasted when it is lived before Him.
Faithfulness is never unseen.
And devotion, quietly lived, echoes into eternity.

Anna waited — and saw redemption.
May we do the same.

When Faith Becomes the Budget

Beth Herrington Kruprzak

There are seasons when God’s provision looks different than what we once knew. Bruce’s official separation from Ohio Central has brought us into one of those seasons—a time of learning to live on less and to depend more fully on God’s daily care. With a decrease of more than 40% in income and the loss of both health and life insurance coverage, it would be easy to let fear take root. Yet even here, we can clearly see the hand of God at work.

Before any of these changes took place, God had already gone ahead of us. The full VA coverage provided for Bruce’s needs has been a tremendous blessing and a reminder that the Lord truly prepares the way before His children.

“It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you.” — Deuteronomy 31:8, ESV

Though we didn’t know what the coming months would hold, He did—and He has been faithful to provide exactly what we need. Looking back, I see small evidences of His care scattered everywhere: the unexpected discount on a bill, a neighbor’s kindness, a friend who called right when I needed prayer. God has been quietly faithful, providing manna for each day rather than a storehouse for the year.

Still, this hasn’t been easy. We had thought the money we had set aside and the disability program would carry us through a time like this. But those provisions proved less secure than we had hoped. Watching our savings dwindle has been humbling. Each withdrawal felt like a test of faith. It made me realize how much comfort and security I had unknowingly placed in that balance rather than in God’s promises.

I had to face the truth that even though I trusted God in word, I was still depending on the numbers in our account to make me feel safe. But God, in His love, has a way of loosening our grip on temporary securities so we can take hold of eternal ones.

There are moments when disappointment rises, and I feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down. Yet, in those very moments, God gently reminds me of His care—as if to whisper, “Oh you of little faith, do you not yet see My hand in this too?”

Psalm 119 has become my steady companion in this season. Over and over, the psalmist points back to the steadfastness of God’s Word and the need to trust in it even when we don’t understand the path before us:

“Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep your word.” — Psalm 119:67, ESV
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” — Psalm 119:105, ESV

Those words speak right into the heart of waiting, of letting go, and of learning that the lamp of His Word often lights only the next step—not the whole road.

When I grow frustrated, God gently asks me to look deeper: “What are your heart’s desires? Are they truly what I want for you?” He’s teaching me to surrender what I thought I needed and to realign my focus toward what truly matters—His truth, His peace, and His presence.

“Incline my heart to your testimonies, and not to selfish gain! Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in your ways.” — Psalm 119:36–37, ESV
“Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act.” — Psalm 37:4–5, ESV

Each time I bring my worries to prayer, the Lord tenderly reminds me that His way is not about fear but faith, not about control but surrender.

I’ve decided not to continue my own health coverage, which would have consumed nearly 45% of our current income. That decision doesn’t come from recklessness, but from prayerful trust. I’m relying on God to provide if health needs arise and to give me wisdom and strength each day.

“And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong.” — Isaiah 58:11, ESV

I’m also learning that my real security is not found in a savings account or an insurance policy—but in the One who holds my life in His hands.

“And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:19, ESV
“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” — Matthew 6:33, ESV

The Lord is redirecting my heart toward deeper things. With fewer financial resources, we’ve discovered we have more time—time to be together, time to be still, time to cherish what lasts. The slower pace has opened opportunities to nurture relationships that had been neglected during busy working years.

We are rediscovering the beauty of simple joys: unhurried meals shared with family, the laughter of grandchildren, long conversations that heal old distances, and quiet evenings that give space for gratitude. These are the treasures that money cannot buy and time often steals away.

“Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.” — Ephesians 5:15–16, ESV
“Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” — Romans 12:10, ESV

I see now that God is using this financial pruning to produce spiritual fruit—patience, humility, and gratitude. I’m learning that it’s not the abundance in my wallet but the abundance of His presence that sustains peace.

“It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.” — Psalm 119:71, ESV
“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” — Lamentations 3:22–23, ESV

Through every adjustment and moment of doubt, I’ve come to see that God’s faithfulness hasn’t changed—only my perspective has. Living with less has become living with more: more gratitude, more faith, and more awareness of His daily care.

Even when I can’t see the way ahead, His Word lights just enough of the path for me to keep walking—one trusting step at a time.

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.” — Psalm 23:1, ESV
“Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.” — Isaiah 26:4, ESV

Lord, thank You for being our steady provider when earthly securities fade. Teach us to trust You when the numbers don’t add up, and to find joy not in possessions but in Your presence. Help us to use this season to build stronger relationships, deepen our gratitude, and align our hearts with Yours.

When fear whispers that there won’t be enough, remind us that You are always enough. When disappointment stirs, turn our eyes toward the blessings already before us. May every loss reveal a new layer of Your faithfulness, and may our hearts rest in the truth that You never fail to provide.

How You Can Know You Are a Child of God: Living Without Fear of Death

 

Whether people admit it or not, the fear of death influences nearly everything humanity does. Some people strive to leave a legacy — to be remembered by their children, grandchildren, or by the world for something they accomplished. Others pour their energy into creativity — writing books, building monuments, or crafting their names into history.
Even those who commit evil atrocities often do so in a twisted desire to be known and remembered.

The fear of being forgotten is deeply connected to the fear of ceasing to exist — the fear that our lives will have meant nothing.

But when you are a child of God, the fear of death loses its power.
Because for the believer, death is not an end — it’s a homecoming.

The good news of the Gospel is that you don’t have to guess whether you are a child of God. God does not leave His children in confusion.
Unlike the religions of the world — many of which are built on the uncertainty of whether you have done enough, prayed enough, or been good enough — Christian faith offers assurance.

False religions and counterfeit gospels (many with roots in the Middle East or the Far East, or modernized “spiritual” movements that add to or distort Scripture) are based on works — what you must achieve to earn favor.
But the Gospel of Christ is based on grace — what God has already done for you through Jesus.

When you are born again through faith in Christ, you are adopted into the family of God. You are no longer a slave to fear.
You are a child — fully loved, fully known, and fully secure.

Paul’s words are both simple and sobering:

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.” (Romans 8:14)

How do you know if you are a child of God?
Ask yourself: Am I being led by the Spirit, or by my flesh?

The person led by the Spirit of God lives differently from the world. Their decisions, their desires, and their direction begin to reflect the nature of the One who lives in them.

Being led by the Spirit doesn’t mean we never fail — it means that when we do, we are convicted, not comfortable in sin.
It means we seek peace not in indulgence, but in obedience.
We no longer act on impulse or emotion alone. Instead, we pause — we ask what pleases God, what aligns with His Word, what reflects His heart.

The flesh seeks to fill its emptiness with temporary things:

• Pleasure
• Food
• Entertainment
• Sex
• Achievement
• Control

But the Spirit seeks to fill us with eternal things:

• Peace that surpasses understanding
• Joy that endures suffering
• Love that extends beyond offense
• Hope that outlives this world

If you are led by the Spirit, your desires begin to change — not instantly perfect but consistently pointed toward heaven.

Adoption changes everything.
When you are adopted, your identity, inheritance, and future are secured — not by your worthiness, but by the will of the One who chose you.

Through the Spirit of adoption, we cry, “Abba! Father!”
That is not a formal prayer — it’s the cry of intimacy and belonging. It’s the voice of a child who knows they are loved.

And because we are children, we are also heirs — promised a future that is unshakable.

“Provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” (Romans 8:17)

Even suffering becomes evidence of our belonging.
The Spirit in us gives us strength to endure hardship with hope rather than despair. We may grieve, but not as those who have no hope. We may die, but never as those who are lost.

When you know you are a child of God, you live with assurance rather than anxiety.
Death loses its sting because it cannot take what Christ has already secured.
You begin to live not for legacy, but for eternity.

The goal of life is not to be remembered by the world — it’s to be known by God.
You are not defined by what you leave behind, but by Who is waiting for you ahead.

When that truth takes root, you can face the end of your days with peace — not because of what you have done, but because of Whose you are.

1. Do I live more influenced by the Spirit or by my impulses?
2. Do I seek peace through obedience or through comfort?
3. When I think of death, do I fear losing my life — or do I look forward to going home?
4. Is my goal to be remembered on earth, or to be received in heaven?

The Spirit of God does not leave His children wondering.
If you have placed your faith in Jesus Christ — if you trust Him as Lord and Savior, and your heart longs to live in step with His Word — then you are a child of God.
The Spirit within you bears witness with your spirit, whispering truth when doubts rise:

“You belong to Me.”

So live today with peace.
You have nothing to fear in death — because you are already alive in Him.

Romans 8:12–18 (ESV)

So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.
For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!”
The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God,
and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Finding Joy and Stability: Discipline, Delayed Gratification, and Breaking From Old Habits

 

Life’s storms and seasons of change—whether entering a new year of school, an adult transitioning from work, or anyone facing uncertainty—often bring a strong desire for immediate pleasure. We crave relief from discomfort, whether through entertainment, social media, gambling, substances, pornography, or sexual indulgence. Yet true joy, freedom, and stability come not from avoiding discomfort, but from embracing discipline, delayed gratification, and godly habits.

God created a world in which pleasure and pain exist in balance. Both are necessary for growth, wisdom, and the appreciation of life. When we seek constant pleasure without endurance, we disrupt this balance and invite negative consequences—addiction, shame, and cycles of secrecy.

Science confirms this through understanding our brain’s dopamine systems. Anna Lembke, in Dopamine Nation, explains how overindulgence in pleasurable activities—substances, gambling, pornography—creates tolerance. The brain requires ever-increasing stimulation for the same reward, making temporary pleasure dangerous when pursued without self-control.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot… a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–8, ESV)

Even joy is most meaningful when experienced in balance with challenges.

False solutions may feel like relief, but they ultimately undermine long-term stability and joy. Examples include:

• Gambling – the lure of instant reward can become addictive.
• Substance use – seeking chemical escape from reality.
• Pornography and sexual indulgence – temporary pleasure that harms relationships, emotional stability, and spiritual health.
• Screen addiction or endless entertainment – numbing discomfort without addressing underlying challenges.

“Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions. Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life.” (Romans 6:12–13, ESV)

Discipline is not punishment—it is a pathway to freedom. By practicing self-control, delayed gratification, and obedience to God, we train our hearts and minds to find deep, lasting joy that cannot be disrupted by storms or fleeting temptations.

“For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” (Hebrews 12:11, ESV)

Life’s storms—whether a teen navigating senior year or an adult facing a major life transition—can easily encourage a victim mentality. Thoughts like these may creep in:

• “This is too hard; I can’t handle it.”
• “It’s not my fault; life just happened to me.”
• “I’ll never be able to change; I’m stuck this way.”
• “I’ve done it this way for the past thirty years; it will take the next thirty years to change.”

While circumstances may be challenging, Scripture calls us to take responsibility for our choices and the focus of our hearts, even in difficult seasons. Adopting a victim mentality can feel comforting in the short term, but it often justifies avoidance or indulgence in instant pleasure—gaming, gambling, substances, or social distractions.

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5, ESV)

Our choices begin in the heart.

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, ESV)

When our hearts focus on self-pity, comparison, or instant gratification, our actions follow—often leading to shame, secrecy, and cycles of addiction. But when our hearts focus on God, gratitude, and responsibility, we align with His design for self-control, wisdom, and stability.

Teens and adults alike must learn to distinguish legitimate struggles from excuses that empower false solutions:

• For teens: Peer pressure, school challenges, and uncertainty about the future can feel overwhelming. Choosing responsibility means facing challenges, seeking godly guidance, and avoiding instant gratification.
• For adults: Retirement, career changes, or family transitions may evoke anxiety or a sense of loss. Choosing responsibility means seeking purpose, remaining disciplined, and trusting God through the unknown.

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13, ESV)

Breaking the victim narrative involves:

1. Acknowledging reality – name the challenge without assigning sole blame to circumstances or others.
2. Taking ownership of choices – recognize that your responses are within your control.
3. Shifting heart focus to God – cultivate gratitude, prayer, and reliance on Scripture.
4. Engaging in Godly habits – routines, accountability, and service strengthen the heart.
5. Accepting growth as a process – setbacks may happen, but freedom comes from persistence, not perfection.

David Powlison reminds us that change rarely happens in isolation. Addiction grows in secrecy and shame, but healing grows in the light of community.

We need people who will speak truth when we want to believe lies. We need friends who will pray when we feel too weak to lift our heads. We need the church to be a place where struggles are carried together.

“God sets the lonely in families.” (Psalm 68:6, ESV)

Sometimes this is messy. Loving someone struggling with addiction means bearing burdens, facing disappointments, and setting wise boundaries. But it is worth it, because every time we come alongside someone, we act as the hands and feet of Christ.

One of the most hopeful truths comes from Jay Adams: God never commands what He does not empower us to do. Addiction whispers, “You can never change,” but the gospel says the opposite: in Christ, change is possible.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, ESV)

Change is rarely instant. Just as a coffee bean must be ground and pressed to release its aroma, sanctification can feel like grinding pressure. But God is at work, shaping us into something beautiful. Real change begins with repentance and faith and continues through obedience, one step at a time.

Key elements to find joy and break old habits include:

1. Daily spiritual habits – prayer, Scripture, worship anchor the heart in God.
2. Healthy routines – exercise, nutrition, rest strengthen body and mind.
3. Purposeful work and service – investing in others redirects the brain from dopamine-driven distractions.
4. Accountability and community – mentors, trusted friends, or small groups reinforce godly choices.
5. Identifying triggers and replacing false solutions – recognize situations or emotions that lead to temptation and practice godly alternatives.
6. Patience and perseverance – joy grows as we learn to wait and trust God’s timing.

Psalm 16:11 (ESV) promises:

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

True joy is found in God’s presence, not in shortcuts or instant gratification.

Addiction is real. The pain is real. The damage is real. But so is the hope of the gospel.

• Addiction is ultimately a worship issue 
• The body and brain matter, and medical wisdom is part of faithful care 
• Change is possible through Christ 
• We cannot walk alone; God calls us into community 

If you or someone you love is struggling, don’t lose hope. Get medical help if needed. Seek wise biblical counsel. Surround yourself with community. Most of all, turn your eyes to Jesus, who is mighty to save. He alone can take an addicted heart and make it new.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38–39, ESV)

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.” (Hebrews 6:19–20a, ESV)

Life’s storms, transitions, and temptations are real. But false anchors—quick fixes, indulgences, or excuses—will never hold. Only Christ is the true foundation, the anchor that steadies us, strengthens us, and transforms us from the inside out.

Breaking the Victim Narrative: Choosing Freedom in Life’s Storms

 

Life’s storms—whether a teen navigating senior year or an adult facing a major life transition—can easily encourage a victim mentality. We may find ourselves saying:

• “This is too hard; I can’t handle it.”
• “It’s not my fault; life just happened to me.”
• “I’ll never be able to change; I’m stuck this way.”
• “I’ve done it this way for the past thirty years; it will take the next thirty years to change.”

While circumstances may be challenging, Scripture calls us to take responsibility for our choices and the focus of our hearts, even in difficult seasons.

Adopting a victim mentality can feel comforting in the short term. It can justify avoidance, indulgence, or retreat into instant pleasure—gaming, gambling, substances, or social distractions. These thoughts, especially the belief that “I’ve always done it this way,” can prevent us from taking small, daily steps toward lasting change.

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5, ESV)

The first step to freedom is recognizing that our thoughts, reactions, and heart focus matter, and that God has equipped us with the Spirit and gifts to act differently than our impulses or circumstances might suggest.

Our choices begin in the heart.

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” (Proverbs 4:23, ESV)

When our heart focuses on self-pity, comparison, or instant gratification, our actions follow—often leading to shame, secrecy, and cycles of addiction. But when our hearts focus on God, gratitude, and responsibility, we align with His design for self-control, wisdom, and stability.

Teens and adults alike must learn to distinguish legitimate struggles from excuses that empower false solutions:

• For teens: Peer pressure, school challenges, and uncertainty about the future can feel overwhelming. Choosing responsibility means facing challenges, seeking godly guidance, and avoiding instant gratification.
• For adults: Retirement, career changes, or family transitions may evoke anxiety or a sense of loss. Choosing responsibility means seeking purpose, remaining disciplined, and trusting God through the unknown.

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13, ESV)

Even when circumstances feel impossible, God equips us to respond with wisdom and self-control.

 

Breaking Free from Excuses

1. Acknowledge reality – name the challenge without assigning sole blame to circumstances or others.
2. Take ownership of choices – recognize that your responses, even to difficult situations, are within your control.
3. Shift heart focus to God – cultivate gratitude, prayer, and reliance on Scripture to redirect impulses.
4. Engage in godly habits – routines, accountability, and service strengthen the heart against temptation.
5. Accept growth as a process – setbacks may happen, but freedom comes from persistence, not perfection.

Breaking the victim narrative is not about denying challenges or pretending life is easy. It’s about choosing freedom in Christ, taking responsibility for our thoughts and actions, and refusing to let circumstances dictate our destiny.

David Powlison, in many of his writings, helped me see that change rarely happens in isolation. Addiction grows in secrecy and shame, but healing grows in the light of community.

We need people who will speak truth when we want to believe lies. We need friends who will pray when we feel too weak to lift our heads. We need the church to be the kind of place where struggles are not hidden but carried together.

Powlison reminded me that the gospel is not only about me and Jesus—it’s about us and Jesus.

“God sets the lonely in families.” (Psalm 68:6, ESV)

He gives us brothers and sisters so we never walk alone.

Sometimes this is messy. Loving an addict means bearing burdens, facing disappointments, and setting wise boundaries. But it is worth it. Every time we come alongside someone, we act as the hands and feet of Christ.

Life’s storms will come. For teens, the pressures of school, peers, and an uncertain future. For adults, transitions, career changes, and new seasons of life. The temptation to retreat into instant relief, indulgence, or avoidance is real.

But when we choose responsibility, take ownership of our thoughts and actions, and rely on God’s Spirit and the community He provides, we discover something beautiful: strength, resilience, and lasting stability.

Change is possible. Growth is real. Freedom is found in Christ.

When Our Expectations Collide With God’s Way

 

This season of life—stepping away from the workforce and navigating the uncertainties of long-term disability—has reminded me of how difficult it is to trust God when my expectations don’t match what is happening. I want things resolved quickly. I want clear answers. I want to fix what feels broken. Yet, the more I wrestle with it, the more I see that God is not asking me to scheme my way into security. He is asking me to trust Him.

From the very beginning, people have tried to find their own solutions apart from God. In Genesis 3, Adam and Eve reached for knowledge outside of God’s design. In Genesis 6, the people of Noah’s time lived only for themselves, ignoring God’s holiness. In Genesis 11, humanity tried to build a tower to reach heaven on their own terms. Every attempt failed—not because the desire for wisdom, safety, or unity was wrong—but because they were trying to get it without God.

We often fall into the same trap.

We work longer hours thinking if we just push a little harder, we can control the outcome. But Christ calls us to rest, not in idleness, but in His finished work. He reminds us that “apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).

We devise alternatives and back-up plans, convinced that God might forget us or fail us. Yet Colossians 1:16–17 reminds us that in Him all things hold together. He doesn’t need a back-up plan—He already is the plan.

Some even turn to chance, like the lottery, hoping a windfall will solve financial struggles. But God doesn’t work by luck or randomness. Romans 5:6–11 tells us His love is certain, demonstrated in Christ dying for us while we were still weak. Nothing is more sure than that.


Isaiah 40:21–26 declares that the same God who calls every star by name is the God who holds our lives. Psalm 90 reminds us that before the mountains were formed, from everlasting to everlasting, He is God. Christ Himself is the eternal anchor when our expectations fall apart.

And here is the wonder: God doesn’t just hold the universe together in raw power—He holds us in perfect love. “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him” (1 John 4:16). His answer to our need was not a temporary fix, but His own Son.

Our schemes are exhausting. God’s way is life-giving. Our plans are temporary. God’s way is eternal.

Galatians 3:7–9 reminds us that true blessing comes by faith, just as Abraham believed God and it was counted to him as righteousness. In the same way, our hope today is not in the systems of this world, but in Christ who has already secured our future.

So when I feel tempted to overwork, to scramble for my own solutions, or to trust in chance, I remember: God has already provided the ultimate solution in Christ. If He has solved my greatest need—my salvation—I can trust Him to meet every other need in His way and in His time.

God does not want my frantic schemes. He wants my trust. And in the end, that trust is never misplaced, because He alone is faithful.

Navigating Life’s Storms: Seasons of Change

 

One of the most hopeful truths I’ve found in this journey comes from Jay Adams’s book How to Help People Change. Adams was convinced that God never commands what He does not also empower us to do.

Addiction often whispers the lie: You can never change. You will always be this way. But the gospel says the opposite: in Christ, change is not only possible—it is promised.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, ESV)

This doesn’t mean change is instant or easy. Just as a coffee bean must be ground and pressed to release its aroma, we often feel the grinding pressure of sanctification (being set aside to be holy). But God is at work, shaping us into something beautiful.

Adams reminded me that real change begins with repentance and faith. It continues through obedience, one step at a time. God uses His Word, His Spirit, and His people to bring about lasting transformation.

As students step into senior year of high school—the final stretch before graduation—they face questions that can feel overwhelming: What do I do with my life after school? Similarly, adults moving from long-term work life into retirement, career changes, or unexpected seasons of disability wrestle with the same uncertainty: What now? Where do I belong? How do I move forward?

Though the circumstances differ, the emotions are strikingly similar. Anxiety, fear, excitement, and even frustration can make it tempting to retreat into mind-soothing habits or quick fixes—whether scrolling endlessly, seeking risky thrills, gambling, or turning to substances.

Like sand washing away around a pool during a storm, these seasons of change reveal weak spots in our foundations. They challenge us to ask: Are my habits, routines, and spiritual grounding strong enough to keep me steady?

Self-control, accountability, and godly habits become the anchors that hold us firm amid uncertainty.

Transitions bring storms, and storms heighten temptation. Teens face peer pressure, academics, and looming questions about the future. Adults often wrestle with identity, fear of irrelevance, or feelings of loss.

In both cases, the temptation is to seek instant relief. False solutions whisper: Escape here. This will make you feel better. But they rarely deliver. Instead, they create cycles of secrecy, shame, and dependency.

Some common false solutions include:

• Substance use – alcohol, drugs, or other chemical highs.
• Gambling or thrill-seeking – trying to feel alive or distracted.
• Screen addiction – endless scrolling, social media, or gaming.
• Avoiding responsibility – ignoring the natural consequences of choices.

Proverbs 13:20 warns us:

“Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm.” (ESV)

We need guidance, community, and mentorship to resist these false anchors and pursue lasting stability.

Resilience doesn’t come from avoiding discomfort—it’s built through guidance, discipline, and practice. Both teens and adults benefit from:

1. Clear expectations – knowing right from wrong and the consequences of choices.
2. Opportunities for responsibility – tasks at home, volunteering, mentoring, or personal projects.
3. Self-regulation skills – learning to pause, reflect, and choose wisely instead of reacting impulsively.
4. Spiritual grounding – prayer, Scripture, and reliance on God’s wisdom.
5. Community and accountability – mentors, trusted friends, or small groups that encourage godly decision-making.

The Bible points us back to trust:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5–6, ESV)

Every time a teen or adult chooses God’s way instead of a quick fix, they are placing a stone in the foundation of their character.

James 1:2–4 gives us the bigger picture:

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (ESV)

Storms, struggles, and seasons of transition aren’t wasted—they produce steadfastness, shaping us into people who stand firm in faith.

Practical Steps for Navigating Change

• Engage openly – talk about fears, pressures, and temptations without judgment.
• Model self-control – demonstrate godly ways of handling stress and uncertainty.
• Encourage honest reflection – identify false solutions and pursue healthier alternatives.
• Provide safe challenges – let both teens and adults face risks and natural consequences.
• Celebrate growth – affirm wise choices and godly responses, reinforcing the value of patience and perseverance.

Life transitions are inevitable, whether it’s a teen facing graduation or an adult entering a new life season. The storms will come. But with godly habits, accountability, and reliance on Christ, both teens and adults can navigate uncertainty with wisdom, strength, and hope.

True stability and peace don’t come from quick fixes—they come from standing firm on the foundation of God’s t

When Time Slips Away: Redeeming the Hours God Gives

 

I love spontaneity. I love the thrill of gathering family, planning big events, and even enjoying a little “controlled chaos.” Summer is full of that—late nights, laughter, spur-of-the-moment plans, and sweet memories that I never want to let go of. I don’t desire to leave behind the fun of summer.

But life’s changing seasons remind me that there is also a time to return to rhythm. As fall arrives, I feel the need to get back to schedules and routines—spaces of order that give me balance, protect my marriage, and leave room for spiritual growth.

For me, that means sitting down with a calendar and honestly looking at how my time is being spent. I like to get things done. I hate making excuses and I resist procrastinating, because I know it wastes time and robs opportunities. So I write out the weekly commitments that truly matter, and I intentionally leave space for rest and family. I’ve learned to set limits:

• Only one ministry item per month beyond my regular service.

• No more than one big event a month.

• And never more than four days a week filled with scheduled activities.

Why? Because too much running leaves too little time for what matters most—marriage, family, self-care, and spiritual growth.

Working from home, I sometimes see my husband’s free hours and get frustrated. What looks like wasted time to me can actually be his needed rest and restoration. Health differences affect what each of us can do, and I have to remind myself that stewardship of time doesn’t look the same for everyone. Yet there is one area where rest cannot replace responsibility: our time with God.

Spending time in His Word is not optional. It is the very food of our souls. Jesus said, “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). If we neglect the Scriptures, we cannot expect to grow in our relationship with Him. And if we only live off small bits and scattered verses, we risk creating a false view of who God is or twisting what He says.

Psalm 119:105 reminds us, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Without that lamp, we will stumble in confusion. Paul urged Timothy to “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15). That doesn’t mean we will ever know everything the Bible says, but it does mean we are responsible to keep learning.

Even ten or fifteen minutes a day of focused reading and prayer can re-center our hearts and guard our minds against false thinking. As Psalm 1:2–3 declares, “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in its season.”

So in our marriage, our family, and our personal lives, time management will look different—but our time with God should never be neglected. Every moment spent in His Word is an investment that bears eternal fruit.

This fall, I want to be intentional:

• To keep my marriage strong by protecting daily and weekly time together.

• To delight in my grandchildren without letting activities overwhelm me.

• To protect time for prayer, Scripture, and quiet reflection.

• To say “no” when too many good things begin to crowd out the best things.

• To avoid excuses and procrastination that rob joy and growth.

 Am I using my time to strengthen my relationships and deepen my walk with Christ—or am I letting excuses, distractions, or neglect of Scripture control me? What changes do I need to make in my calendar to honor God with my time?

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” This is my season to embrace both rhythm and joy, both structure and spontaneity. But above all, it is my season to keep God’s Word at the center—because without Him, time is only wasted.

The Gift of Self-Control: Standing Firm When the Storms Come

 

 As I continued to contemplate the sand being washed away around our pool, I found myself thinking about how easy it is to fall into a victim mentality. It would be so tempting to give up—walk away from the piles of paperwork, doctor visit reports, upcoming appointments, and the discipline required for daily routines. The temptation to retreat into mind-soothing activities, to numb the discomfort, is strong. Yet, God calls us to stand firm, even when the storm makes everything feel fragile.

Self-control is one of the firm foundations that keeps us steady in these moments. It’s a gift from God, a protective barrier that shields us from being swept away by temptation, addictive impulses, or the easy lure of instant relief.

Without self-control, pleasure becomes a tyrant. Gambling, excessive use of social media, alcohol, pornography, or other dopamine-driven behaviors promise short-term relief but often leave us trapped in cycles of shame, secrecy, and addiction.

The Apostle Paul warns in 1 Corinthians 6:12 (ESV):

“All things are lawful for me,” but not all things are helpful. “All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be enslaved by anything.”

Self-control allows us to enjoy life without being enslaved by it. It gives us the freedom to navigate life’s storms without being tossed by every impulse or fleeting desire.

Ed Welch, in his book Blame It on the Brain, reminds us that while our biology and brain chemistry are real factors in addiction, they are not the whole story. The brain may be the stage where these struggles play out, but the heart is the actor.

This is where balance is so important. Sometimes people need medical care—withdrawal support, treatment for chemical imbalances, or guidance from a wise doctor. God gave us bodies, and caring for them matters. But medical treatment alone cannot change the heart. True self-control is not just willpower or biology; it is the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–23).

That means even when the storm inside us feels chemical, physical, or overwhelming, God’s Spirit gives us hope and a way forward.

It’s easy to fall into the victim narrative: “I can’t help it; my trauma made me this way,” or “I was born with a temperament to addiction.” These realities may be true, but Scripture never lets us stop there. God calls us to responsibility, to a deliberate choice to walk in freedom:

“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” (2 Timothy 1:7, ESV)

Self-control is not merely about restraint; it is a fruit of the Spirit that grows as we surrender to God. The same storms that expose weaknesses can also cultivate resilience, character, and hope when we respond in obedience.

Self-control begins in childhood, but our culture often looks for quick fixes—either by medicating children or by excusing their behavior, allowing them to act out without consequences. Both approaches fail to teach true self-regulation.

Children need age-appropriate expectations, clear boundaries, and guidance in managing impulses. Excusing unwanted behavior, ignoring it, or constantly cushioning them from discomfort produces adults who struggle with responsibility, self-control, and the natural consequences of choices.

Proverbs 22:6 (ESV) reminds us:

“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”

By holding children accountable in loving ways, we teach them resilience, patience, and the ability to make godly choices—a foundation that will help them navigate life’s storms with strength.

Shame can destroy self-control. When we feel unworthy or fear rejection, we hide our struggles, perpetuating cycles of addiction, pleasure-seeking, or unhealthy habits. But God calls us out of secrecy into community and accountability:

“Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” (James 5:16, ESV)

Honesty with God and with trusted people allows shame to lose its grip. Community becomes the space where our self-control is strengthened, where God’s grace is tangible, and where healing begins.

 

Practical Steps to Grow Self-Control

1. Start small – choose one habit or behavior to focus on at a time. Daily consistency is more powerful than occasional intensity.
2. Pray for strength – self-control is a gift from the Spirit. Ask Him daily to guide your choices.
3. Seek accountability – share your struggles with trusted people who will pray, encourage, and hold you accountable.
4. Replace idols with God-centered habits – avoid swapping one pleasure-seeking behavior for another. Engage in worship, service, or Scripture instead.
5. Celebrate small victories – each choice to honor God strengthens your foundation for the storms ahead.

 

Self-control is not a restriction; it is freedom. It is the rock that steadies us when storms come. It is the gift of God that allows us to live in peace, not in slavery to fleeting pleasures. By embracing this gift—for ourselves and for the children we guide—we can navigate life’s storms with wisdom, stability, and hope.

Dancing in God’s Design: A Luau of Love and Creation

When we consider the truth that we are made in the image of God, we often go wrong in two directions. Some think too highly of themselves, acting as if they are God. Others think too little of themselves, treating life and their own worth with little respect. Yet both errors miss the heart of the matter: being created in the image of God is a gift of grace.

God did not need to create humanity. He chose to. Out of love, He gave us the dignity of bearing His image.

“Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.’ So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.”
(Genesis 1:26–27, ESV)

Genesis 3 explains both our purpose and our struggle—why we are here and why we so often miss it.

The reality is that every human being—no matter age, appearance, ability, or social standing—is equally made in God’s image. This was not a gift given to some but denied to others. It is universal. It is not based on achievement, status, wealth, intelligence, or physical ability. If you are human, you bear the image of God.

“With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God.”
(James 3:9, ESV)

This truth should radically shape the way we view people. Children, unborn, the elderly, those born with disabilities, those from different cultures and backgrounds—all stand on equal ground in dignity and worth. There is no hierarchy here. There is no superiority. We are one human race, united by the Creator’s lavish gift.

“The rich and the poor meet together; the LORD is the Maker of them all.”
(Proverbs 22:2, ESV)

Though we are not God, He gave us purpose. In Genesis, Adam and Eve were tasked with work—stewarding creation, bringing order, and living fruitfully within the framework God provided.

“The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.”
(Genesis 2:15, ESV)

We were never meant to sit back passively; we were given direction and patterns to follow. But we are not creators in the same sense as God. Only He creates from nothing. We are sub-creators, shaping and forming what God has already given. This both confirms our role in creation and reminds us of our limitations: we are dependent creatures, reflections of His glory, not the source of it.

I was reminded of this truth through our experience with a Luau. While visiting Hawaii, we had hoped to attend one of these cultural events—an evening filled with flowers, music, dance, and fire. Yet, the first event was cancelled because of a storm, and we never had the chance to experience it there.

But now, close to home, we’ve been given another opportunity. We will get to enjoy the beauty of this celebration—not in the islands where it began, but on the mainland. And as I think about it, that reflects something deeper.

The weaving of flowers into garlands, the rhythm of music, the movement of dance, the wonder of fire—all of it testifies to the creativity of human hands and minds. But every part of it still depends on God. The flowers, the fire, the human body itself—all are raw materials He has given. We do not create out of nothing. We shape, arrange, and craft from what the Creator has already supplied.

Even in the disappointment of the storm in Hawaii, God has given us another chance to enjoy the beauty of human creativity closer to home. And perhaps that is the point—whether in Hawaii or in our own community, the beauty isn’t ultimately about the location, but about the reflection of God’s image in human creativity. We create because He first created.

“For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”
(Romans 11:36, ESV)

In many ways, this reflection also connects to the celebration of our marriage. Just as the Luau is filled with music, flowers, and dance, our wedding was filled with beauty, laughter, and community. Marriage itself is one of God’s first gifts to humanity — a covenant relationship that reflects His image in a unique way.

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.”
(Genesis 2:24, ESV)

The joy we shared that night was not something we created out of nothing — it was the weaving together of God’s good gifts: love, companionship, family, and the blessing of shared life. Just like the Luau, our celebration reflected the truth that we create beauty only because God first created and gave.

C. S. Lewis, in The Abolition of Man, warns of the danger when a small group of people claim the authority to define what “improvement” means for humanity. What one culture calls progress, another might not. When we forget our dependence on the Creator, we risk reshaping humanity according to narrow, shifting standards—losing sight of the good of all people.

Instead, our creativity and progress must remain in submission to God, the true source of meaning and goodness.

“Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.”
(Psalm 100:3, ESV)

If we are made in the image of God, then we are not God. We derive our purpose from Him, not from ourselves.

C. S. Lewis captures this balance beautifully in Prince Caspian:

        "You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve, said Aslan. And that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content."

To be human is both a staggering honor and a sobering humility. We are not the rulers of the universe, yet we alone bear the privilege of being made in God’s image.

“What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet.”
(Psalm 8:4–6, ESV)

As I reflect on the gift of being made in God’s image, on the beauty of human creativity, and on the joy of celebrating our marriage, my heart overflows with gratitude. Every song, every dance, every shared smile and hand held is a reminder that God has entrusted us with the privilege of co-creating His beauty in the world. Life may bring storms that cancel plans or shift our expectations, but His grace remains, allowing us to see, celebrate, and participate in His good design in ways that fill our hearts with wonder and love. Truly, every moment of creativity, connection, and celebration is a reflection of the Creator who made us for relationship, joy, and purpose.

Dressing Up and Living Different

 

This past weekend Bruce and I did something a little out of the ordinary—we went to a Renaissance Fair. It wasn’t just a last-minute idea either. It took us months to prepare, because we wanted to do more than just attend. We wanted to dress up and really be part of the experience.

At first, we planned to go as pirates. I hunted through second-hand stores, yard sales, and clearance racks and managed to piece together almost everything we needed. We weren’t about to spend hundreds of dollars for something that only happens once a year! Eventually, though, our pirate idea shifted into something a little different. On Saturday, we went as pirate invaders, and on Sunday, I pulled out my Lady costume. It ended up being the best of both worlds.

The entire weekend was so much fun. We met new people, discovered shows we’d never seen before, and got to step into a different time period for a couple of days. But as I thought more about it later, something struck me. Dressing up as a pirate or a Lady was fun for the day, but in reality, I wasn’t either of those things. I was pretending. I was slipping into a role that didn’t actually belong to me.

That got me thinking. Isn’t it interesting how easy it is to put on a “costume” in real life? Sometimes, without even realizing it, we adjust our words, our attitudes, or even our values to fit in with the people around us. Just like costumes at a fair, we can end up playing roles that don’t reflect who we really are—or worse, roles that are contrary to who God has called us to be.

The apostle Paul addresses this very idea in Romans 12:2:

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

The world is constantly pressuring us to conform, to wear its “costumes,” and to blend in with its values. But God calls us to something different—true transformation. That doesn’t happen by pretending, but by allowing God to reshape us from the inside out.

This sometimes requires us to make hard choices. We may need to step away from relationships that drag us down or pull us toward compromise. Even with family, where we can’t (and shouldn’t) sever ties, we may need to set boundaries so their influence doesn’t outweigh God’s.

Paul reminds us again in Colossians 3:1, 5, and 12–13:

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God… Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry… Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

Notice how Paul uses clothing language: “put on.” Not as a costume, but as part of our true identity in Christ. What we wear spiritually should not be something we take off at the end of the day—it should reflect who we really are.

Thankfully, God has not left us unequipped in a world full of pressure and temptation. He has given us tools to live differently:

1. Scripture – God’s Word renews our minds and resets our priorities to align with His.

2. Service to others – Serving keeps us grounded, helps us imitate Christ, and shifts our focus outward.

3. Worship through music – Singing praises lifts our hearts and reminds us of God’s greatness.

4. Fellowship with believers – We need community. Other believers encourage us, strengthen us, and help keep us accountable.

When we lean into these tools, we find that we don’t need to pretend. We don’t need to “dress up” as good Christians or put on a mask to fit into the world. Instead, God’s Spirit transforms us, His love overcomes our impulses, His family of believers strengthens us, and His presence gives us courage.

Our weekend at the Renaissance Fair was playful and fun. It was good to step into a costume for a couple of days. But when the costumes came off, I was reminded of something much more important: in everyday life, we are called not to play a role, but to live out our true identity in Christ.

So let’s be careful what we “put on.” Let’s not settle for pretending when God has called us to be transformed.