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enCourage Blog Archive List Date Title Author Category 6/27/24 Daughters of the King Laura Tucker Made for More 6/24/24 Engaging Culture with Wisdom and Grace Maria Currey Wisdom 6/20/24 A Backwards Birth into Heaven Susan Tyner Grief [...]
When my youngest was little, we took her up the St. Louis Arch. I was excited to have my youngest join me for this notorious St. Louis excursion, and when we entered the cart that makes the slow trek up the steel structure, with excitement I said, “Are you ready?” And then she screamed. I attempted to reassure my daughter, who listened to absolutely none of my comforting words, and then resorted to lollipops and singing. But none of my tricks removed the panic…until we got to the top. With the snap of a finger, all was well again, and she couldn’t get enough of the people below who “looked like ants.” When we visited the arch again several years later, my tween girl seemed a little nervous about the impending cart ride. So, I reminded her multiple times of the fact that she made it up fine the last time, and that she loved the experience once at the top. Remember how much you liked it? Remember? But apparently, she did not because when we entered the cart, she screamed. She was fine once at the top, and while she admired the incredible view, she said, “Mom, next time just remind me that the ride is not so bad.” Right. The Red Sea Road In the book of Exodus, the Israelites also struggled to remember how they had been brought through a great trial. In chapter 14, God’s people are pursued by Pharaoh and his army. And this was not a small group chasing them; we’re told Pharaoh had his horses, chariots, horseman, his entire army. Understandably, the Israelites were exceedingly afraid!..
My seminary professor posed a question in his lecture the other day: Should we decorate our nurseries with Noah’s Ark themes? Um, well…I did. My oldest, who’s now off at college, had a yellow and green Noah’s Ark themed nursery when she was a baby. What’s the problem, Prof.? But then I studied the story. It’s not that I hadn’t learned about Noah before, but most of my understanding of the passage, along with many other Old Testament stories, comes from childhood books filled with primary colors and cartoon-like figures. But the story of Noah is actually incredibly heavy and exceedingly violent. Many Old Testament stories carry this kind of weight. While studying 1 Samuel with our women’s Bible study, we came across this verse: “The hand of the Lord was heavy against the people of Ashdod, and he terrified and afflicted them with tumors…” (5:16). This probably isn’t a Scripture passage hung up on the fridge for that good ole’ morning encouragement. As we digested what was going on in the context, one friend lamented that passages like this are why she stays away from the Old Testament. I get it. I had similar feelings when digging into the story of Noah. It’s hard sometimes to understand how these Old Testament stories apply to us today; it’s equally difficult to grasp the importance of reading them when many are harsh and even some, grotesque. But the Old Testament is significantly beautiful. It is vital to our understanding of the great and glorious God we serve and digging into these books sheds light on the incredible beauty of the gospel of Jesus Christ. There are many other reasons to give time and attention to Old Testament books, but here are three to consider: The Old Testament is Significant because it Reveals the Purposes of God As a literature teacher, I delight in seeing a student’s face light up when they begin to understand how the plot details of a piece of literature fit together to create one unifying and often very meaningful story. Our understanding of Scripture must be seen in a similar light. The Bible is one beautiful and grand story – the grandest story! It cannot merely be understood as individual, disconnected books made up of individual, disconnected stories. When we study the Bible, we often do so by jumping around to different books and chapters, which is certainly fine and can be beneficial. But the challenge is that we not losing sight of the big picture – the grand story – that connects all the details from Genesis to Revelation...
I have always had a soft spot in my heart for animals. I’ve been known to pull off the road to move a turtle out of harm’s way, and I’ve taken home one too many little rodents after stopping by the pet store. My husband fears what might end up tagging along home with me every time I say, “Just running out to grab some dog food.” While on vacation, we took an evening stroll on the beach and I noticed a pelican in front of us standing strangely still. As we got closer, it became apparent that the bird was hurt due to a fishing hook caught in its wing. True to my nature, my heart went out to the creature who was clearly helpless in his plight and fearful because of our close proximity. I wanted so badly to fix the injured wing so it could soar again, but there was little I could do, and the bird was incapable of helping itself. Unable and Helpless I thought of this pelican a few times since returning home. Its presence was a vivid picture of my own inability to fix the brokenness I feel internally and that I see in the world around me. There have been times when personal suffering has felt paralyzing because no matter what direction I move, the pain still lingers. And as I watch headlines that blare agony, disillusionment, and death, I again feel unable and helpless. Paul was a man who knew suffering, and we see just a glimpse of the extent to which he suffered in his second letter to the Corinthians...
I had a Cabbage Patch doll when I was young, and it was by far my favorite toy. From the time I woke up to the time I went to sleep, I kept a routine of caring for this doll. During Sunday school one week, we learned about Hannah in the Bible, and I remember our teacher explaining that God heard Hannah’s prayer for a child, and God answered her prayer. I’m sure she further expounded, but what I walked away believing was, If God hears me, He will say ‘yes.’ So, that night I put my Cabbage Patch to bed and prayed that God would make her real the next morning. I went to bed with tremendous anticipation as to what the doll was going to be like as a real baby. When I woke and discovered the same old stuffed doll, I was incredibly disappointed, and wondered if God didn’t hear me. I decided to pray again that evening. Louder. While my understanding of the ways in which God answers the prayers of His children has grown (thankfully), the difficulty in accepting God’s ‘no’ has, in many ways, remained the same. I felt a new depth of pain as a young woman when God answered ‘no’ to my pleading to keep my father alive after he was diagnosed with cancer. I felt a wave of confusion after praying persistently that the lump found on my thirty-year-old sister would not be cancer, and God said, ‘No.’ And I felt tremendous grief when God said ‘no’ to the prayer that the strange side-affects my mom was experiencing would be nothing of significance. When God Says ‘No,’ He Understands Our Grief Grief and confusion are natural reactions to God saying ‘no’ to our wants. These emotions are not wrong, but as believers, we should grieve knowing that we are not relenting our desires to an emotionless God who cannot identify with our pain. The incarnation is profound precisely because it reminds us that when God came into this world, he entered the human experience and knew sadness, death, and suffering. God understands our grief. One of the most beautiful passages in the Bible is John 11. Mary’s brother, Lazarus, was deathly ill and eventually died. Before Jesus raised him to life again, He visited the family and saw Mary weep over the loss of her brother. Verse 33 says that Jesus was “deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.” And then he wept. He didn’t just shed a few tears; he didn’t tell them to put smiles on their faces because Lazarus was about to be raised. No. Jesus wept. He was grieved by a world tainted with sin. When God says ‘no,’ trust that His gentle hand is holding you fast through the waves of the unknown, and he is bottling up every tear with unconditional love...
My sister sent me pictures of her family’s new house. This was the first time they were home-owners, and I was ecstatic for them. As I scrolled through photos, I was astonished at the great work they did remodeling, decorating, and making the house their home. I was thankful with my sister for such a great blessing. Until I saw her sink. When I saw her sink, something happened inside of me. It was a large, farmhouse sink, and I found myself spending an excessive amount of time on the picture of the sink. I enlarged the sink; I looked at all of the sink’s details apparent in the photo; I drooled over the sink, and then I promptly texted my husband and informed him that we needed a new sink. “Why? Our sink is perfectly fine.” “Because. We need a new one.” “What kind of sink?” “A farmhouse one. I’ll send you a picture…” I literally pulled out the measuring tape and began measuring the countertops to see how complicated it was going to be to install my new sink. It wasn’t until later that evening, after googling over an hour “how to install a farmhouse sink,” that I had a convicting realization: I’m being ridiculous. But envy does this. It sneaks in deceptively, though often quickly, and entices us to want what we don’t have. Whether or not we actually need it becomes a moot point because our desire to have better – to have more – overtakes our ability to be content with what is right in front of us. It’s a beast that is difficult to overcome, but if we don’t fight against it, we hold contentment at bay and settle for a spirit of dissatisfaction...
When I was child, our house was broken into. I’ll never forget the circumstances that surrounded that event, and the details have left an imprint: the broken glass, the back door opened, the silver moved, the speakers turned over, and the cops roaming the house. Though there was disturbance, it didn’t take us long to notice that nothing was actually taken. The intruder claimed to see a “hoard of men” walking toward the house, so he left everything and ran out the back door. With fresh snow on the ground, and no footprints to see, we have always believed that the “hoard” were angels protecting our home from what could have been a great loss. As an adult, I can see God’s provisions all over this event, but as a child, the break-in caused tremendous fear. I went to bed that night with tears streaming down my face, trying to sort through the array of emotions I felt. I remember my dad coming in and checking on me. He must have noticed my tears and sensed my fear because he sat on the bed and took me into his arms. I put my head against his chest while he said several times, “I’m here.” In what felt like turmoil, my father’s loving grip and his reassuring words were all I needed to finally fall asleep. Come to Me and Rest This is the memory that comes to mind when I read Jesus’ words from Matthew 11: 28-30: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
I’m terrible at following directions. This fact has resulted in many quandaries through the years, like the time I decided I didn’t need driving directions for a trip back to college one semester, and for about two-hundred of the four-hundred-mile journey, I drove in the wrong direction. There was that time. I also neglect directions when it comes to putting furniture together. Once I pull out the pieces and lay out the various tools, screws, and parts, I simply start. The directions can usually be found in the trash because I have convinced myself: I can figure it on my own. And this is why we have unnecessary holes in bookshelves, why we have a lop-sided chair, and why our music stands pop off every time I pull them up. As ridiculous as my attitude is toward following directions, I’ve realized that my disposition toward Scripture can too easily slip into a similar mindset: I know it’s important, but I’ve read it before. Or, sadly, I will first seek my own solutions to difficulties in life rather than searching the Bible for answers; perhaps there is a part of me that believes I can figure it out on my own. If you struggle to read the Bible because you don’t think it’s necessary, or if you’re tempted to believe that it doesn’t make a difference in your life, take a look with me at the particular words chosen by the Psalmist in Psalm 19.
KATIE POLSKI|CONTRIBUTOR I scrolled through Facebook recently and noticed several friends in my area had posted pictures of a gorgeous sunset from earlier that evening. I thought back on my night, confused as to how I had missed [...]
KATIE POLSKI|CONTRIBUTOR At the beginning of the fall, I had fun scrolling through social media and looking at the various pictures, which mostly included end of summer vacations and shots of enthusiastic kids ready to begin the school [...]