Author: Becca

I'm a wife, mother, friend, and disciple of Jesus. Originally from Eastern Canada, (the part with the Atlantic Ocean - not Ontario), I currently reside on the Prairies with my husband and two children. It has been over a decade since I moved to Saskatchewan and my longing to return "home" to Maritime culture and ocean living has been just that - a longing; a deep ache for a place to call home - where I think it "should" be. But God has plans for each one of us and they don't always include what we want, do they? God has been preparing me over the past few years and has asked me to remain here. The Prairies. Home? Although I am thankful that God gave me a love for this place and for the agri-"culture" here, it is still a choice to wake up each day, content. It may be far from some friends and family and that only reinforces the longing, but it also reminds me of where that real longing lies. Is it in the Maritime culture or with friends or with family? Although that would be wonderful, I think the longing I ache for daily, is for Home. My true Home. My heavenly Home. I also live with OCD, ADHD, RA (and probably numerous other acronyms) and that creates a lot of undesired "stress" and chaos at times. Maybe you can relate to a life with unwanted stress or chaos, or maybe you can relate to that ache, that longing for a place to call "home". If so, grab your coffee, make sure the kids are entertained for the next 15 minutes, sit yourself down in your favorite comfy-chair, take a slow, deep breath, and join me in this space of collected thoughts, stories, and musings as we journey together towards Home.
Interior of an empty rock tomb with a rolled-away stone and burial cloths at sunrise.

When the Tomb Still Feels Sealed

by Becca, posted in Christian Living, Death / Grief, Changing Seasons, fear, uncertainty, trust, easter

Over the years, Easter has always been a weekend I have appreciated with, typically, significant anticipation. I have observed the practice and season of Lent, watched the movies, read the stories in various forms, and subscribed to the daily devotionals, preparing my heart for remembrance. This year…was different.

This year has been one of busyness, chaotic emotions, numerous unknowns, stress, and grief. Such profound grief. This year, Easter seemed to sneak up on me and I didn’t realize it until I found myself in a Good Friday service, attempting to focus my mind on remembering the sacrifice of Christ while shutting out the fears that have been running rampant in my mind for weeks…months…the past few years, if I’m really honest. Perhaps you know the feeling I’m referring to. The one where you watch silently as something you love so dearly seems to slip away. I’ve recognized that, in times like this, I do two things. First, I try and keep those things within my control, in every attempt to grasp onto it, to keep it, to protect it, to not let it slip away. But I also tend to bury my head in the sand, so to speak, and simply try not to think about it.

I have some experience in the realm of watching the things I love slip away, while I shed silent tears, praying and watching, knowing there is nothing more I can do to hold on to them. But when it comes to your children, that grief hits differently. This past Good Friday, I made the decision to gently let go of my efforts to control, knowing that in the long run, it wouldn’t do any good; hoping, praying for a miracle.

This morning, as I do every Easter Sunday morning, I listened to the old song by Carmen entitled, “The Champion”. It describes a descriptive story of the spiritual battle that occurred between God and Satan during the original Easter weekend. On Friday, Satan believes he was victorious in the battle as Christ died. It goes on to the countdown to Sunday morning where the crescendo echoes Jesus’ victory, “He has WON!” Tears rolled down my face as I loaded the dishwasher, knowing the very real spiritual battle that has been going on in my home and in the lives of my children. As my husband wrapped his arms around me, I whispered, “It doesn’t feel like He has won.”

After wiping my cheeks, I went to church this morning, feeling a heaviness in my heart, as though a part of me was missing. As people smiled and greeted one another, hugging family members, singing songs of victory and hope, cheering over baptisms, my heart was filled with grief. I was surrounded with joy, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to feel the same. My grief has been so pronounced. Heavy, these past few days. It’s the kind of grief where I realized that if there was a way to trade places with the child I love so very much, for eternity, I would do it. And that’s when it hit me. That’s precisely what Jesus did. He traded places with us, His children, so we could have the choice to spend eternity with Him. The grief He must feel over those that choose to reject Him…

So, where does that leave us? The people living in the season of “heavy”? The people where joy is not something we feel, even on Easter Sunday? The people where there is no end in sight of the difficulty of the life they are living? The people who are living in what feels as though darkness still reigns in the tombs of our lives?

I wish I had the answer.

A few week’s back, a friend of mine sent me a message regarding something I’m not ready to share with the world just yet. But, a part of his message struck me and I’ve been trying to apply it in every aspect of my life. His words were, “Go in curious and you’ll do well”. I’ve been repeating the mantra to myself “remain curious” in almost every new situation I find myself in and I have found it to serve me well so far.

This grief is no different. I’ve chosen to let go of my control, knowing, believing, trusting that Jesus loves my children more than I ever possibly could. All I can do now is love them, nurture them, support them, and pray for them. Oh, how I pray for them. But, the message of Easter IS one of hope. In that, I’m also choosing to hope in the Jesus that I’ve chosen to trust, so many times over, remaining curious as to what He will do. Because, as I have been telling my son…and myself, I do believe that God still works miracles. If He can raise people from physical death, He most certainly can raise them out of spiritual death too. As the season of Easter comes to a close, I will continue hoping and will remain curious. I’ve seem Him take the things that have slid away from me in the past and make them beautiful. I know He can do it again.

Bikinis, Weeds, and Surrender.

by Becca, posted in Christian Living

I’ve never possessed a green thumb. I don’t even like being outdoors unless I’m tanning (and there’s no bugs). However, this is the first summer I’ve been solely responsible for the yard work. Prior to this year, my former spouse and I would pay someone to come mow the lawn, pick up doggy doo, spray weeds, etc. My income alone doesn’t support that type of luxury. And that’s ok! For the most part, I seem to have been keeping on top of it. With the help of a wonderful neighbor who got my lawn mower working, I’ve been able to keep the lawn mowed, the doggy doo picked up, and I even figured out how to use the whipper snipper without being scared of it. Win!

But there’s one area of yardwork that I have not been able to keep on top of. Weeds. I paid someone to come and do some weed treatments to the front lawn this summer, which I don’t regret, but the back yard? *shudder*

I’ve been spending a lot of time on my back deck this summer and I’ve been watching them grow. Taller. Bigger. Deeper. Uglier. And I became overwhelmed by them. Apparently, glaring and scowling at weeds doesn’t make them go away. Although, I gave it a valiant effort.

No. Weeds don’t just go away. In fact, if they aren’t dealt with, they will only grow, and eventually, they will take over everything that was once beautiful.

Yesterday, I finally couldn’t stand the sight of the field of weeds that had grown all around the rock edges of my home and all throughout the gravel areas of my back yard. So, in my bikini (because…tanning), I donned my work gloves, grabbed a garbage can, and I set to work. Starting in one area, moving slowly, I pulled weeds. One. by. One. Ensuring the root came up with each one.

Throughout the hours I spent pulling weeds, I had a few thoughts running through my mind. I believe that the Lord used my weed pulling frustration to teach me some valuable lessons about the weeds that have sprouted in my own life. So here goes:

1. Weeds are ugly and they take over everything beautiful very quickly – if they aren’t dealt with. There have been numerous weeds that have grown in my life. Some of them have taken over other parts of my life. Parts that used to be beautiful. Like the part where I used to love Jesus more than anything else in this world. Doubt, hurt, fear, and lack of trust are weeds that have tried to destroy this part of me. This is just one small example.

2. The more you let weeds grow, they become bigger, thornier, and deeper-rooted. These weeds are more difficult to get rid of. They cause pain when you try to remove them. They want to hold on. The more I’ve chosen to ignore the promptings, reminders, and convictions of the Holy Spirit, the more certain sins have grown. Sins that I’ve become attached to. These sins are difficult to say no to. Even though they cause only pain in my life, they are also painful to uproot.

3. Weeds pop up easily. They don’t require a lot of water or sunshine. They’ll grow wherever they see an opportunity. If we truly want weeds gone, we can’t just wait until we see evidence of them. We have to do preventative maintenance as well. (*Ahem* Round-up *Ahem*) If I am not spending time with the Lord on a regular basis, spending time in His presence, reading His Word, it is easy to live the way that seems most natural to me. With selfish intention and ambition, focusing on what makes me feel good and happy…even if it is only for a moment. If we surround ourselves only with people who don’t share our faith, it’s easy to forget our faith. Regular maintenance is required if we want to keep weeds from growing in our lives. Perhaps a daily invitation is necessary; asking the Lord, as David did. “Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” – Psalm 139: 23-24

4. Removing weeds will be painful and it requires a certain posture. Rejecting sin, sin we hold on to, afraid to let it go, isn’t easy. There are reasons we cling to sin. It makes us feel better for a time. It helps us feel like we have a purpose in life. It makes us feel validated. It allows us to feel accepted by certain people. It’s part of our identity. The thing with sin though? It’s deceptive. So deceptive, that we struggle to say no to it. We might even think we have it under control. We can even trick ourselves into believing that we aren’t hurting anybody but ourselves. But in the end, all it really does, is grow. Taller. Bigger. Deeper. Uglier. Until…it eventually has spread and takes over the other beautiful things in our lives.

After a couple of hours of pulling weeds, I also couldn’t help but notice that it would be impossible to pull them out by their roots, without bending low. Whether it was in a squat, a full bow, or on my knees, I had to get low to the ground to do it. And I don’t think it’s any coincidence that when we stop glaring at the weeds in our lives and choose to uproot them, we also must adopt a similar posture. Bowing low, kneeling. Surrendering. It will be impossible to uproot weeds of sin in our lives without first surrendering our will and wants to Jesus. When we bow down, we acknowledge that uprooting sin will be painful, but we also acknowledge His Lordship in our lives. And it might take some time to examine the weeds. It might take some time to get to the place where we can’t tolerate them anymore. It might take some time to recognize why we feel the need to cling to them so tightly. It might take some time to uproot them. But as I slowly stood back upright, stretching out and willing the muscles in my back to stop hurting, I surveyed the rocky areas around my home. And I smiled. It was hard work. But it was worth it. What once was beautiful, overcome by weeds, was made beautiful again. Also, Round-up has become my new best friend.

My God is all I need.

by Becca, posted in Changing Seasons, Christian Living, fear, trust, uncertainty

There will likely be a time in our Christian journeys when, like Jacob, we will wrestle with God all night long…But there must eventually come a dawn when we say, “Ok, God, You win…Not my will but Thine be done.” – Gary Thomas

There is a simple black and white canvas in a frame that hangs on my dining room wall that states: “Live with eternity in mind.” There is a Bible that sits in my basement beside my prayer chair. There is a playlist of worship music on my phone. There is a group of people I have memorized Scripture with. There is a women’s ministry that I used to write for. There have been convictional reminders to me in small ways, here and there. All of these things, over the past few months, I have ignored…or at the very least…distanced myself from. Someone mentioned to me awhile ago that I haven’t updated my blog lately. My response? “I write about a specific topic and theme. That theme has not been the theme of my life lately. I will not be hypocritical.”

A lot has happened in my life since last Fall, when I last wrote about my desire to trust Jesus in this crazy season. The short version: I stopped trusting.

Choosing to not trust Jesus wasn’t something I just woke up and decided to do one day. In fact, I remember very sleepless nights, agonizing over whether I really could and should trust Him anymore. After all, I had trusted Him. My whole life. And where did it get me? Divorced. Reduced from a full-time mom to a part-time one. Having to work three jobs to afford to live – even with alimony and child support. Alone.

I knew that in my marriage, I was lonely. I had accepted the fact that my marriage would never be what I hoped it could be. Healthy. Affectionate. Devoted. Loving. But I had made my vows and I was faithful to the end. It wasn’t until a few months after my marriage was over that I was offered something I didn’t even know I had longed for. Craved even. Affection. I’ve come to recognize that I have felt starved of physical affection for most of my adult life. I think, as a defense mechanism, I acted as one who didn’t want it, didn’t care for it. Because it’s easier to pretend we don’t care about something than to want it so desperately, and never receive it, isn’t it? So, when it was offered, I willingly accepted it.

It wasn’t an easy decision. I knew it meant distancing myself from God – because, in essence, it was disobedience. And it’s impossible to live contrary to God’s rules and still remain close to Him. So I distanced myself from Him in an effort to relieve the immense loneliness I came to understand I was feeling. And it worked…temporarily.

This decision didn’t just come from a place of loneliness though. It also came from a place of significant fear. Fear of remaining in this lonely existence forever. Fear of the idea of marriage again one day. Fear of becoming entrapped yet again in an unhealthy relationship. So what do you do when, as a Christian, you don’t want to be alone, but you also don’t ever want to get married again? There’s only two logical answers that I could see. 1. You accept and live a life of celibacy and singleness. Or. 2. You form relationships with people that also don’t seem to care much about marriage. I chose option 2. Because of my deep loneliness. And I’m not talking about the kind of loneliness where spending time with a good friend can help. I craved human affection and love. Desperately. A simple touch on the arm, yes. A hug, yes. A passionate kiss, yes. But mostly: A place where I felt loved. Wanted. Desired. Fully known and accepted. At any cost.

Knowing it would ruin any reputation I had built, knowing it would create distance between me and the God I claimed to love, knowing my behavior could negatively affect my children (although, they were not informed of the details), knowing it would cost me my self-respect, knowing that in the end, it would only bring me grief, I chose to live in the moment and appreciate the affection and care that was offered. Knowing it was wrong; I tried not to care.

But…when your faith means more to you than you think it does, you are left with no choice but to care. Over these past few months, every couple of weeks, I would listen to the following song, and I would try and tell myself that its words were true.

“My God is all I need.” I would repeat these words over and over, knowing they were true, yet, I still couldn’t force myself to believe them. The past few months became a battle ground in my mind between ignoring the convictions of the Holy Spirit and letting myself experience what I had longed for, for so many years. But eventually, conviction won out, along with the prayers of some amazing friends and family members. Because even though I was living my life one way – it was not true to who I really was. And I could not keep living in such a dichotomy.

“If any of you wants to be my follower,” he told them, “you must put aside your own pleasures and shoulder your cross, and follow me closely. If you insist on saving your life, you will lose it. Only those who throw away their lives for my sake and for the sake of the Good News will ever know what it means to really live.” – Mark 8:34-35

The truth of the matter is this: living for our own pleasure provides temporary relief from our pain. But it never lasts. It might make us happy for a time. But in the end, there is only grief. True and lasting joy cannot be found apart from Jesus. I know that now. And when that becomes your belief, you have but only one option left: complete and total surrender. And that can be a very scary thing to do. “But God, I trusted you! I followed You and I obeyed You! And THIS is my life?! Why would You ask me to trust You again? HOW could You ask me to trust You again?” The thought of getting married again is terrifying to me – for numerous reasons. Yet, the thought of spending the rest of my life in this deep loneliness also seems unbearable. But it’s not about me. It’s about Him.

Romans 12:1 says “I urge you…in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices…this is your reasonable act of worship.”

“The Greek word translated “reasonable” is the word logikos. In light of the incredible mercy of God poured out on us (past, present, and future mercies), a full and complete sacrifice of our lives is the only logical response we can make.”1

Currently, it’s Easter weekend, and I can’t help but think on Christ’s perfect example of surrender to His Father. It was total and complete. He willingly surrendered His wants to His Father’s will – allowing Himself to be tortured, to be betrayed, to be murdered in such a brutal way. Christ provided the perfect example of what full surrender looks like. And it was because of His surrender and obedience, that I can come boldly into God’s throne room and receive grace and mercy. It is because of His surrender that my sin does not define who I am any longer. It is because of His surrender that I can be forgiven and spend eternity with Him. It is because of His surrender that I can concede, bow down, and surrender my will and wants and fears as well.

So, in short, I have surrendered. Finally. I choose to mark myself as a bondslave to Christ. Fully His. Fully available for His use. Fully trusting in Him to provide what He sees fit for me – even when trusting is a choice that still scares me. I will overcome my fears with my faith.

“Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is none upon earth that I desire besides You.” Psalm 73:25 has become my prayer. I want to get to that place where the daily choices to trust that I am forcing myself to make turn into a lifetime of trust. I want to desire Jesus more than anything else in this world. Even if that means trusting Him with what seems like a terrifying future. I want to get to the place where Mary was – where she would willingly give up her dowry and future just to pour it out on Jesus’ feet in an act of pure love and surrender to Him. I’m only at the beginning stages of this. Bowing my knee, surrendering my everything to Him, cautiously, but fully, with tears in my eyes, wordlessly pleading with Him to not let me down. Surrender can be terrifying. But I’m hoping that one day I will be able to say the same thing Nancy Demoss states in her book on Surrender: The Heart God Controls:

“The pathway of surrender is not always an easy one. On occasion, I have found myself in some pretty turbulent waters, as a result of saying Yes to God.  There have been points when it seemed like my little boat was going to capsize. But I have learned that there really is no safer place to be than in His will. And in the midst of the storms, I have found joy – indescribable joy. And blessings more often than I can number – blessings to be enjoyed here and now and the anticipation of eternal blessings that I cannot begin to fathom now. It really is true that “there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”


Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee.
Take my moments and my days; let them flow in endless praise.
Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee.
Take my voice and let me sing, always, only, for my King.
Take my lips and let them be filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold; not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect and use every power as Thou shalt choose.
Take my will and make it Thine; it shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart it is thine own; it shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord; I pour at Thy feet its treasure store.
Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for Thee.2

  1. Nancy Leigh Demoss from her book Surrender: The Heart God Controls. ↩︎
  2. Take My Life and Let it Be by Frances Ridley Havergal. ↩︎

Endnote: I share openly and honestly in this blog from my perspective and experience. It is not my intention or desire to speak negatively about my former spouse. I do not blame him for what was.

*I dedicate this blog to Jesus, Who never gives up on us. And also my friends Charity and Janeen who didn’t give up on me, who gently encouraged me, listened to me, prayed for me, and walked alongside me, even when they didn’t agree with me. Proverbs 17:17 says “A friend loves at all times.” Thank you for being there for me when I needed you the most.

Seasons Change.

by Becca, posted in Changing Seasons, Christian Living

I’ve always loved the season of Fall. Closing my eyes, I can almost feel as though I’m 15 again. Stepping off of the school bus, I’d start my short trek home, all the while loving the sounds of the huge leaves of both maple and elm crunch underfoot; the smell of wood burning stoves starting for the cooler temperatures. The leaves don’t tend to crunch as much in Saskatchewan and the maples are far fewer, but the cooler temperatures and the barren tree branches still represent a new season that is coming: winter.

I can’t help but love winter, mainly because there are far fewer insects I have to deal with, but also because of: (and who doesn’t love these?) fireplaces, cozy blankets, good books, hot cocoa with whipped cream, and extra cuddles with my kids during our school mornings.

As much as I enjoy the change of these seasons, there are some seasonal changes in life that I haven’t always enjoyed. Tax season isn’t exactly one I would label as “fun” or “pleasurable”. The season of becoming a new mother can be difficult for some. The season of walking through grief can feel awful. I’ve witnessed friends learning how to navigate the season of becoming empty nesters, which apparently can have its ups and downs. (I wouldn’t know as I haven’t reached that season just yet.)

Some seasons are better than others. Some seasons are worse than others. Some life seasons are chosen, while other seasons can be thrust upon us, sometimes when we least expect it. The past few months in my life have proved to be a significant change of seasons – and, as a result, there will only be more changes to come over the next few years. I’ll be honest: I didn’t exactly handle this most recent seasonal change very well at first. I don’t know about you, but when change is thrust upon me and I don’t know how to handle it, I become fearful…which can lead to emotional reactions due to that fear.

This most recent change of season caused me to fear not only my life and future, but it also caused me to be fearful of other people and even God. There were some weeks where I couldn’t pray, because I would have a panic attack. I still can’t open my Bible, because I will have a panic attack. Worship music was a hard no for awhile (and still is to some extent). So what do you do when you know the help you need the most is from the One you can’t talk to?

For the past couple of years, I’ve written encouraging snippets based on Scripture for a women’s ministry to share with their online following and I’ve written very openly about how Jesus is safe to trust. This recent season has been my turn to decide if I truly believed that. For me, it became a matter of choosing to trust the God who walks on water, even though I couldn’t speak to Him or hear His voice. I did the only things I could do – I listened to Revive Our Hearts podcasts – ones that encouraged and reminded me that, in what has seemed like the worst seasonal change of my life to date, Jesus is still with me…and He isn’t going anywhere. Another is that I have started memorizing Scripture again (a Psalm printed onto computer paper, since I can’t open my physical Bible). Reminding myself, in the only ways I can, that I have chosen to not give up on my faith or on God.

When the proverbial shit hits the fan, when life takes a turn that we didn’t want or didn’t expect, that’s truly when our faith is tested, isn’t it? I’m learning that changes in the seasons of our life can come out of nowhere. Sometimes, they can be exciting: a wedding celebration, a pregnancy, a job promotion, a new home. Sometimes, they can appear to be horrific: a cancer diagnosis, bankruptcy, a child that walks away from the Lord, tragedy. And with some of those changes, there is grief, anger, questioning, or denial. Those responses are pretty typical.

But there is another response. One that might take some time to put into practice. But, and hear me out here, what if….What If…instead of resisting the change we didn’t want, we started dreaming about how we could embrace it? I hear you. You might be asking, “How do you embrace something like cancer or tragedy?” I’m not suggesting we embrace those things, specifically. But what if we embraced the fact that this new change is in our life and we now have an opportunity to respond well to it? What would that look like? Perhaps it could be an opportunity to shine the light of Jesus in a hospital room. Or perhaps it could be an opportunity to learn new things and be able to help others when they are faced with a similar situation. Or perhaps, at the very least, it could be an opportunity to learn how to fully trust Jesus and understand what it means to fully rely on His strength for each new day.

I don’t mean to minimize pain or heartache with pleasant “Christianeze”. Perhaps a better way to explain what I mean would be this way: I’m a volunteer firefighter. I get calls any time of the day or night and I never know what type of situation I’ll be walking into or will have to deal with. We had a difficult call this year and my job required me to do something that “I never thought I could do”. But when your job is to deal with the situation, as horrible or awful as it may be, you do it. I came home after that call and just stared into space for awhile and cried, because the entire situation was traumatizing, for everyone involved. The week that followed was incredibly difficult. Images and sounds from that event intrusively flooded into the forefront of my mind at any given time. But I had close friends who were able to walk with me after that experience, who would let me cry as I tried to process what I witnessed. And now, those intrusive images and sounds are very few and I rarely think about that event. I did something I honestly didn’t know I would be capable of doing. Because I had to. Some people asked me if I still wanted to be on the fire department after that experience. It makes me smile to consider that. Because even though that call was not something anybody would ever want to experience, it did not, even for a moment, deter me from wanting to continue helping people on what can typically be one of the worst days of their lives. I embraced that experience and, because of that, I will be better at handling similar ones in the future, because I had to walk through the first one.

This seasonal change in my life has felt debilitating at times. There are many things that I have lost, and will continue to lose. But as I’ve been dreaming about new possibilities, I am also filled with hope. Growing up, a constant phrase I would often hear my mom say in our home was to, “Look at the positive!” Most of the time, as typical teenagers do, I would roll my eyes in response. But isn’t it funny how some of those things from our childhood can resonate with us in different situations as adults? That reminder to remain focused on the positive has forced me to really consider and look for positive things about this new season. In searching for them, I’ve discovered that there are many to be found. One positive that I hope will come from this new season is a renewed and deeper walk with Jesus. Another positive for me has been seeing kindness from people I wouldn’t normally have expected to see that displayed from. Another has been realizing that, even though I never thought I could have walked this new path, I actually am able to, because I’ve had to. A few people have stated that they have seen so much strength in me – strength I never knew I had. And as I was reminded, that “strength” is the power of God in me. It is not something I possess in and of myself. It never will be. But friend, I’m here to remind you of this truth: in whatever change of season you choose to face, or will be forced to face, you will never be alone. God’s strength is within you and He will never leave you to handle it on your own. Embrace the change. Look for the positives. They are there to be found. And in this new season, there can be so much to gain.

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him. - Psalm 28:7
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. - Psalm 73:26
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. - Joshua 1:9

The Road to Emmaus: A Journey of Knowing Jesus and His Word

by Becca, posted in Christian Living, Sermons

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a sermon, but the time has come where I have been given an opportunity to share God’s Word again and this blog post is a glimpse into what I’ll be sharing: a deeper dive into Luke 24:13-35 (The journey to Emmaus). I hope you’ll grab a cup of coffee and join me on this journey of discovering Jesus all over again.

Before we read through this passage in Luke, it’s important to understand where it fits into the timeline of Jesus’ story. It’s Sunday. The day of Jesus’ resurrection. The women have gone to the tomb, but they discovered the stone rolled away and the angels told them that Jesus had risen. They ran to tell the news to the remaining eleven disciples. Peter and John raced to the tomb to inspect for themselves and discovered the same thing: the stone rolled away and the burial cloths laying just inside the tomb. But Scripture doesn’t state clearly that they believed Jesus was raised from the dead. In fact, it strongly suggests that they did not believe this news. They were perplexed and confused, and, fearing the Jews, they were hiding behind locked doors. (John 20:19)

Some of Jesus’ followers left Jerusalem after the Passover to travel to Emmaus on foot. As they walked, they discussed all of the events from the previous three days. Their story is as follows:

13 That very day two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus Himself drew near and went with them. 16 But their eyes were kept from recognizing Him. 17 And He said to them, “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered Him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” 19 And He said to them, “What things?” And they said to Him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and rulers delivered Him up to be condemned to death, and crucified Him. 21 But we had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened. 22 Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, 23 and when they did not find His body, they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that He was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but Him they did not see.” 25 And He said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! 26 Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into His glory?” 27 And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.

28 So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He acted as if he were going farther, 29 but they urged Him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So He went in to stay with them. 30 When He was at table with them, He took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. 31 And their eyes were opened, and they recognized Him. And He vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while He talked to us on the road, while He opened to us the Scriptures?” 33 And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem. And they found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, 34 saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how He was known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Luke 24:13-35

Some points I found to be worth noting about this passage are listed below:

1. (Vs. 13) “That very day” refers to resurrection Sunday, the day Jesus rose from the grave.

2. (Vs. 13) “Seven miles from Jerusalem”: This journey would have taken approximately two hours and a bit to walk. The distance from Jerusalem and travelling along the road would have afforded them the opportunity to discuss the events that had taken place that weekend (the death of Jesus) with less fear of the Jews over-hearing their conversation.

3. (Vs. 14) “They were talking with each other about all these things that had happened.” These events are outlined clearly in verses 19-24 (below).

19 And He said to them, “What things?” And they said to Him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, a man who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and rulers delivered Him up to be condemned to death, and crucified Him. 21 But we had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things happened. 22 Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, 23 and when they did not find His body, they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that He was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but Him they did not see.”

4. (Vs. 16) “Their eyes were kept from recognizing Him.” There are many speculated reasons for this. Some suggest it could have been because God divinely held back their ability to recognize Jesus. Others suggest it could have been due to poor air quality (although the rest of the passage makes this seem unlikely). And still other sources reason it could have been due to Christ’s changed appearance from the disfigurement He would have had from enduring torture and beatings. They may not have immediately recognized His resurrected state.

The point is: it doesn’t matter. They did not need to know Jesus was bodily present with them to converse with Him and learn from Him. His spiritual presence was enough for them.

5. (Vs. 17) “They stood still, looking sad”…and they were. Their friend, Master, Rabbi, was just brutally murdered in front of them three days prior and they’ve heard stories of His body now having gone missing. They are distraught, confused, and trying to make sense of an incredibly traumatizing three days and are most likely desperate to be hopeful that Jesus is actually alive, but perhaps also a little fearful of that hope. Crushed hope makes hearts sick.

6. (Vs. 26) “Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into His glory?” Throughout the Old Testament, God’s chosen leaders were first brought through suffering and then to glory. In fulfilling this pattern, the Messiah would also have to suffer before entering into His glory. Matthew Henry’s commentary states, “He could not have been a Saviour if He had not been a sufferer.”

7. (Vs. 27) “And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.” They didn’t know the things being explained to them were about the Person doing the explaining, but Jesus was making it clear that their Master could be trusted, that what He had said was true, and that His actions had fulfilled Old Testament prophecies. Jesus’ first recorded action after His resurrection was to once again make blinded eyes see the Truth of who He was. He took the time to explain and make clear God’s Word to these two people journeying to Emmaus.

8. (Vs. 29) “But they urged Him strongly saying, ‘Stay with us’.” It’s common for us, after spending time in God’s presence, to want to linger there with Him, isn’t it? May their request be the cry of our hearts each day. “Stay with us!” “So He went in to stay with them.” He met their request as they hadn’t finished learning from Him yet. He meets our requests as well.

9. (Vs. 30-31a) “When He was at table with them, He took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened, and they recognized Him.” Note: “He broke bread.” “They recognized Him.” This is the first recorded event post-resurrection where Jesus eats with His followers and, beautifully, it bears a striking resemblance to the last meal He shared with His disciples just prior to His death. This was a representation of His body that was broken for them. It was this simple act that made them finally recognize Him for the Messiah that He was and is. This action answered their plea and hopes expressed earlier in verse 21: “We had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel”. The breaking of the bread, representing Christ’s broken body, IS the hope and redemption of Israel.

10. (Vs. 31b) “He vanished from their sight.” Jesus had finished revealing Himself to them and teaching them what they desperately needed to know, but He didn’t leave them in the dark. He had just finished equipping them with the knowledge and understanding of who He was. They knew now how to find Him. Henry’s commentary says, “Such short and transient views have we of Christ in this world; we see Him, but in a little while lose sight of Him again. When we have come to heaven, the vision of Him will have no interruptions.” Oh, what a day of rejoicing that will be!

11. (Vs. 33) “They rose that same hour.” There is urgency here, as there should be. Christ has risen! Tell everyone! They walked for another two hours (although, I’m guessing they went much faster this time) back to Jerusalem to share the good news with the eleven disciples (and the others) gathered there.

12. (Vs. 34) “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” 1 Corinthians 15:4-5 states, “that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that He appeared to Cephas (Peter), then to the twelve.” It’s understood from these verses that Jesus has appeared to Peter also, but it’s evident that Peter has not yet told the others about that just yet in our timeline. Who knows? But God obviously made this fact apparent to the two people in Emmaus.

13. (Vs. 35) “He was known to them in the breaking of the bread.” This statement beautifully and poignantly wraps up the encounter the travellers on the road to Emmaus had with their Master. The risen Messiah, in the breaking of the bread, helped these weary travellers see that He had broken His body and poured out His life for Isreal’s, for the world’s, for their redemption.

There are so many lessons to learn from this short section of Scripture, but some of my personal take-aways from this passage are:

1. When Christians are distressed, it is wise to meet with a fellow believer who can encourage them. The two travellers to Emmaus did not go off alone in their distress, but rather stuck together, walking and talking about the grief and questions in their hearts.

2. Jesus notices our grief and comforts us in it if we allow Him to.

3. Jesus meets us in our searching and our seeking.

4. Jesus is able to help us understand His Holy Word and He does so when we ask Him to.

5. What has been your road to Emmaus? Where were you distressed and how did Jesus meet you in that?

Come, Let Us Adore Him.

by Becca, posted in Christian Living, Christmas

Do you adore Jesus?

I was asked this question three years ago in a room with a few hundred other women. My immediate thought was, “No. I do not.” And each year following, I have asked myself that same question and every year, my response has been the same. And it has bothered me, mercilessly. The question itself angers me because I know the answer. It hasn’t changed. I hate my answer, because I desire the opposite to be true. And then I become angry with myself because I don’t know what it looks like to adore Jesus. I just know that I haven’t adored Him.

For the most part, I’ve managed to ignore the question. But each time I’ve heard the word “adore”, over the last few years, I’ve grown quiet…guilty. It might just be that someone has used that word while referring to a pair of shoes or their spouse, but whenever I’ve heard it used, in the back of my mind, I hear that question again and it has still bothered me…until recently.

Do you adore Jesus?

A few weeks ago, I was working through an advent study with a friend and sure enough, that word popped up, yet again. And I finally came to the point where I had to wrestle with two things. The first is that I needed to learn what it means to adore Jesus…and do it. The second is that I needed to reconcile the issue of feeling guilty about not adoring the one Person who came to earth to remove my guilt and shame. Oxymoronic, isn’t it?

This wrestling caused me to do some research and reflection. The results of those items are what I’d like to share with you here. My hope is that they will be a catalyst in your desire to worship and adore Jesus or at least motivate you to do so. May what I’ve discovered be an encouragement to you during whatever season of life you are in right now.

If you Google the definition of the word “adore”, this is what you will find: “love and respect (someone) deeply; like very much; worship; venerate”. This was my starting point. The word itself stems from Latin origins meaning “to worship”. “Adore” is not found in Scripture, yet it has a significant and profound impact on our relationship with Christ. Or, at the very least, it should.

So, what does it mean to adore Jesus? Well, simply, I believe it means to love Him and to worship Him, reverently, and with abandon. But what does that look like?

Bob Bakke, a pastor in the Minnesota area, and the same person who asked me that nagging question three years ago, shared a sermon from John 12 about Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. Just prior to Jesus’ betrayal and death, Mary did the unthinkable. She came into a room of men, let down her hair (something not done by women in those days unless in front of their husband alone), broke open a bottle of perfume (what many scholars believe was her dowry / a year’s wage’s worth), and soaked Jesus’ feet with it, bathing His feet in the process, and wiping His feet dry with her hair.

Why? Why would she do something so absurd, so radical, so humiliating? Because she adored Jesus. Bakke states that Mary’s actions that night “risked her entire future on ten minutes at the feet of Jesus”. Doesn’t that thought make you stop for a moment? It’s crazy! In a matter of minutes, Mary gave up everything that secured her future, just to be with Jesus. But that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? At the very heart of worship lies that word we don’t like. Surrender.

Would you give up everything for just a few moments at the feet of Jesus? Your house, your savings, your health, your community, your retirement plan, your children (or your desire for children), your belongings? What is it that you hold most dear? Would you give it all up for just a few minutes at Jesus’ feet – to worship Him in humble adoration?

I know that I don’t possess the ability to surrender like that in my own strength. Not even close. But what I do have is this: a request from my heart – to help me surrender like that, to help me want to worship like that, to help me adore Jesus like that. And the amazing truth is that when you ask for those things, from a place of true humility, Jesus meets you in your willingness and desire.

As I pondered earlier on the beauty of Mary’s adoration, humility, and surrender, I asked Jesus to make my heart and mind desire precious time with Him and to help me adore Him like Mary did. In the minutes that followed, with tears streaming down my face, I came to understand that to adore Jesus is to worship Him. To marvel Him – Who He is and what He’s done. To adore Jesus is to love Him. And to love Him is to obey Him.

To worship and adore Jesus does not mean that I read my Bible and ask God for all of the things I want and check that off my to-do list for the day. It means taking the time to listen for His voice and to hear from Him, obeying what He says. To worship Him is to spend time in His presence. Worshipping and adoring Jesus can be radical and it can appear absurd, like David dancing naked before the Lord or Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet. In that moment, nothing else matters; not other’s thoughts or scorning words. Just Jesus. Only Jesus. Actions of adoration, perhaps viewed in the eyes of the world as insanity, may just be what changes the world. As Bakke suggests, “There is no telling what divine scheme we may be initiating, what you may be initiating, what mysteries may be unfolding, what enemies we may be defeating when we simply give ourselves for the worship and adoration of Jesus”.

Adoration begins with worship.

William Temple shares the following statements on worship:

1. Worship quickens the conscience by the holiness of God.

2. Worship feeds the mind with the truth of God.

3. Worship purges the imagination by the beauty of God.

4. Worship opens the heart to the love of God.

5. Worship devotes the will to the purposes of God.

If we want to really adore Jesus, worship is where it starts. We recognize His holiness, we read and meditate on the truth of His Word, we spend time in awe and wonder of His beauty, we are humbled by and receive His love for us and those we cannot love in our own strength, and we obey His will for our lives.

Do you adore Jesus?

If not, I hope you have found a place to start – with a humble request and the desire to worship Him like Mary did. And what better time to start than this season of Christmas – the season of miracles – where Jesus was humble enough to become a helpless baby, to be born in a manger, to leave the joy of the throne room of heaven to come to earth, knowing He would die a torturous death. For you. For me.

If you are in need of practical suggestions, like myself, I would gently encourage you to start this way. Find 30 minutes in your schedule. Turn on your Christmas tree lights and turn off the other lights. Read John 12:1-7 and meditate on it as you listen to the words of this song, based on Psalm 130.

I Will Wait For You (Psalm 130) by Shane & Shane

And then wait for Him. Worship Him. Give time and space for Him to speak to you. I can tell you from experience that if you wait long enough, you will indeed hear His voice. And it will be worth every moment spent in the waiting.

This Christmas season, don’t wait until another day to adore your Saviour. Start right now. Quiet your heart. Worship Him in honesty and humility. If you don’t know what to say, tell Him that. But absolutely refuse to move until He meets you where you are. He is worth your veneration, your respect, your love, your worship, and your adoration.

My prayer is that when you attend church this advent season and you find yourself singing the words, “Oh, come, let us adore Him”, you truly know what that means, because it’s something you’ve chosen to do with intentionality already. May you join with the shepherds and, in your heart and mind, go to Bethlehem to behold Him, the King of angels. May you always be in awe and wonder of the King of your heart. May you, today and forevermore, adore Jesus in full surrender, with joyful obedience, and total abandon.

When Church Hurts. And When It Heals.

by Becca, posted in Christian Living

Church hurts. There, I said it…although I hate that. I was reminded today, at church, just how much church hurt is in my past, and I’d like to share some of my thoughts regarding church hurt…and also, how the church can help heal those hurts.

I’ll be clear: It is not my intention to speak negatively against any specific people, to drag names through the mud, or to, God-forbid, cause anyone else hurt. In fact, I have chosen against sharing openly about my thoughts on this topic, until now, solely for that reason. But some time has passed and part of how I heal is through writing. So here we are. My intention in sharing my story is not ill-willed. My intention in sharing the following is for this very purpose: to give hope to hearts that have been wounded by people in the church. That is all.

Back to today. The leader at our current church asked a question to our group about our experiences in our church – specifically relating to the topic of dress attire – from the churches of our childhood. Quietly, I glanced over at my husband, and we just shared a knowing look and a small, albeit sad smile. I waited until the others in the group shared their experiences and I debated, and prayed about, whether or not I should say anything. But after some silence, I felt peace to share what was expected in my childhood church regarding attire. Women were to wear dresses or skirts (below the knee) and head coverings. I am not suggesting that is wrong, it was just my experience. I also shared two memories from that church with regards to the topic of attire. 1. I remember when an elder stood up and read aloud an actual dress code that was to be adhered to amongst the congregants, and 2. When, after wearing dress pants to church one Sunday (years later), I was pulled aside and informed, not kindly, that if I chose to wear pants (instead of a dress) to church again, I would no longer be allowed to teach Sunday School. I’m aware that’s referred to as legalism. But I truly believe that those same people who did those things would most likely regret some of their actions today. I believe we all make mistakes, and I also believe that, by the grace of God, we can learn from them and grow.

And then he asked me, “Did those actions ever affect how you viewed God?” No hesitation. Absolutely, they did. “How?” For me, it made me believe, in a very skewed way, that God somehow expected perfection from me, along with certain behaviour I was to maintain, and that I was not worthy to receive His love if I didn’t act, behave, …dress… a certain way. I have forgiven those people who enforced their own personal convictions onto me…and our entire church, but as I shared those memories in our church group, I was surprised to find that I became emotional. My whole body was shaking and I fought back tears as I answered those questions. Sometimes, we don’t realize to what extent certain actions and behaviours hurt us until we are forced to think about them…and the consequences of them.

I have been blessed to know a few women who are wives of pastors, and let me tell you – they know church pain more than anyone else. The countless stories I’ve heard from them would shock most people. (I have permission to share the following.) One pastor’s wife shared with me how her husband would wear shorts to church, not out of disrespect, but due to significant discomfort. A member of their church didn’t like it, so she thought it would be acceptable to walk up to him after each service and pull his leg hair and then walk away. Pause. Consider that. If you aren’t outraged by that behaviour, you should be. That’s assault. And that type of behaviour and attitude has no place amongst God’s people. Another pastor’s wife recounted, “We were both serving in ministry together in a para-church organization when we got married. Shortly after we we were married, the directors suddenly left the ministry, leaving the entire weight of the ministry on our 5-month-married shoulders. The strain that abandonment had on our marriage was quite huge at the time.” Church hurt is isolating. I could go on with so many other stories from my friends who are pastor’s wives, but just trust me on this: there is behaviour in churches that would shock you, anger you, and grieve you. And it should. Because that’s not what God’s people are supposed to be like.

On a personal level, I know church hurt also, although differently from pastor’s wives. However, before I share, I want to restate the purpose of why I’m sharing this experience, and I ask that you remember it as you read. The purpose of this is intended only: to give hope to hearts that have been wounded by people in the church. It is not to cause more pain. I also want to make it clear that I harbour no bitterness or resentment to anybody in the churches referred to, and I have forgiven these hurts long ago.

Our family stopped attending church for 2.5 years because of significant pain caused by people in a previous church we attended. We just figured that the more you get involved in a church, the more you know, and when you know things, for us anyway, we felt it was important to stand up for what we felt was right and to stand against what we felt was wrong. When nothing we tried seemed to work, we relinquished our efforts, and chose to remain in that church for the sake of our pastors. My husband and I have developed a deep love and care over the years for those in pastoral ministry and we felt our calling, at that time, was to remain in our church to continue to love and support our pastors how we could. We tried to do just that. But for approximately 2 years, we hated going to church. It was exhausting. Draining. And it was evident we were no longer wanted there by some people. And yes, someone even said, “Well, there’s the door.” But, it seemed to us that we were just causing problems. The only reason we stayed for the time we did, was out of obedience.

After some time, my husband and I both felt peace about leaving. We met with our pastors and reminded them of our love and appreciation for them and expressed our desire, should they wish it, to continue a friendship with them. We sincerely desired and wished the best for that church (and we still do), but we could no longer attend. It was just too painful. Partly due to the Covid-19 pandemic, our church attendance…to anywhere…just dropped off. We were reminded often by friends of the importance to attend church during that time. I also remember telling one friend that if it weren’t for my kids, I’d never join another church again. Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t miss worshipping with other believers. But because the idea of joining another church and putting myself into another situation to be hurt was just too much. What’s the definition of “crazy”? Isn’t it doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? No thanks.

There’s nothing quite like church hurt. Perhaps it’s because as Christians we expect other people in the church to behave…like Christians. Crazy, I know. But that idea IS kind of is crazy when you think about it. The church is made up of people. Sinners. And, if you are someone who has been hurt by the church, and you’ve been told this cliché before, don’t close your browser just yet. Hear me out, please. I used to hear people say that when they had been hurt by the church, they gave up on attending entirely. And, out of my ignorance in not knowing what church hurt can really do to a person, I would simply respond with that old adage that has been said to me: The church is made up of imperfect people. Yes, I know. Funny thing though: Hurt people already know that and hearing it doesn’t actually make the hurt feel any less or go away. But, there is a nugget of truth to that thought. I read the other day that churches don’t hurt people; People in churches hurt people. And that is where, I believe, the key to changing our perspective of church hurt lies. We weren’t hurt by our entire church. We were hurt by a few members in the church. Not the whole congregation. Not the pastor. And recognizing that truth was freeing for me.

We knew that we “should” have been attending church every Sunday for the 2.5 years that followed after leaving that church. But every time we would force ourselves to attend church “for the sake of our kids”, it was traumatizing. Yes, traumatizing. I would get fidgety and very uncomfortable and pray the singing and the sermon would just end! I wanted to claw my way out of the sanctuary. It was awful. And I hated it. The people in the new churches we “tried out” were friendly. There was nothing wrong with the sermons or the people, but I just couldn’t be there. And then a friend asked me one day if I had considered, given my reaction to attending any new church since our previous experience, that I may be having a trauma response. And just like that, it all clicked. It made total sense. I just didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. I was associating any “organized church” experience with previous hurt and pain, and I couldn’t shake it.

But, God is faithful.

My husband had been suggesting to me that we should try going to a small house church in the city. I was very hesitant, for many reasons. But we went. And for the first time in years, I exited church on Sunday morning with a feeling that was utterly indescribable. We were loved. We were cared for. We were prayed over. We were encouraged. We were wanted. And we had the opportunity to be and do those things for the others there. For the first time in years, I left church feeling refreshed instead of drained, exhausted, and depleted. We witnessed what church was meant to be: people searching the Scriptures with one another, praying for one another, and caring deeply for one another. And it was incredible. It was clear that this was where God had called us. Our house church has been a place of deep healing for us.

But I’m not stupid. Growing up, my mother would often say, “You’ll never find the perfect church, and if you do, don’t join it, because you’ll ruin it.” How right she was. I have no doubt that we also caused hurt in that same church, and we’ve owned that. Causing hurt was the last thing we ever wanted to do, but I know it happened. The church is made up of people…who are imperfect, yes. But, the church of God is also made up of people who don’t hurt too. It’s made up of healers and helpers.

For our family, for this moment in time, in order to learn how to heal and trust again, God has provided a small group of people who love us…even with our imperfections. In the only way I’m capable of right now, God has met me and has provided an opportunity to still worship Him in a corporate setting. Just a much smaller one, without any resemblance of “organized church”. And I am immensely grateful for that.

I don’t know where God will meet you in your journey of healing, but I beg of you to remember this:

God is faithful.

His people are imperfect. (Including you.)

But God’s love for you is perfect.

And if you ask Him, (although it may take time) He will answer you and meet you where you are. Be patient in that process. Imperfect people will always hurt you. And you will hurt other people too, even if that’s not what you’re intending. But recognize that it is not the whole church of God that has hurt you. It may have been people in a church or it may have been certain beliefs a church holds or it may even be the structure of a church. But it wasn’t the whole church of God.

No church is perfect. The real church of God is humble. And it recognizes when it hasn’t been humble. The real church of God loves people well and it doesn’t cast people out. The real church of God is one that brings healing to wounded hearts and souls.

The only way the church can be real is to love God more than anything else. The only way a church can help heal your wounds is if you allow them to. And I know that can be a very difficult thing to do. But search your heart. If you wish to be part of a church that heals others, you must, as I have learned in this process, also learn to: Practice humility. Love Jesus. Read His Word. Obey His commandments. Set aside your pride and even the identity you have assumed from being wounded by the church and slowly, allow Jesus to bring healing to you – through His Word, through His presence, and through His imperfect church. If you give up on the church entirely, because you’ve only seen the ugly, it means you also give up seeing the beauty that’s there as well. It might be more hidden – because yes, it’s made up of sinners – but beauty IS there. Seek it. And when you find it, grasp onto it and never let it go. Because in it, there is a family that is waiting to embrace you with open arms, to love you, to pray for you, to care for and encourage you. And it’s worth every bit of hurt you experience in the process and every bit of searching you do. Choose to become a part of that healing for others. Choose to become what God intended His church to be – His beautiful bride. And from that, you will reap abundant blessings and indescribable joy.

Side note: When you do find that church family, remember to love your pastor and his wife well. And be their friend.

Tribute to a Godly Woman. A Personal Memoire.

by Becca, posted in Christian Living, Death / Grief

I was given the opportunity to share at my Nanny’s funeral today and the following is my testimony to her life – and a life well-lived, it was indeed.

As a child, I had the unique opportunity to come to Ottawa and live with Nanny, Poppy, and Shirley for a significant portion of each summer. As a result, I had the privilege of spending countless hours with Nanny, and I’d like to take the next few moments to share with you some of my fondest memories and personal observations of her character.

First off, Nanny was resilient. She encountered any obstacle that came her way with dignity and with grace. I remember asking her (I was very young at the time) why it was that she had dentures. She told me it was because she was so poor growing up that she and her siblings had only one toothbrush to share so she didn’t get to use one very often. There was no bitterness in her tone when she told me that. It was just the way it was. She accepted that.

Second, Nanny was courageous and brave! She somehow managed to stay at home with four young children while her husband was serving in Israel as a peacekeeper. She made nutritious meals on an incredibly low budget, managed her home, still attended church services every Sunday (with her and her daughters in matching dresses, which she sewed herself), and still found time to teach her children about the love of Jesus.

Nanny. Was. Frugal! Honestly, she could make many meals off a dime (or from all the food she kept in her multiple deep-freezes or cold room storage of canned goods…which she did all herself). I still remember newspapers spread across her kitchen table with the coupon sections cut out. One fond memory that still makes me chuckle is the time she came home from work at lunch and stated that she didn’t feel like cooking – a first for her! She informed me that she had some coupons for Burger King and asked if I would like to go there for lunch together. This was a BIG DEAL. Not only was Nanny willing to eat at a fast-food establishment, but she was also willing to pay to eat there. I remember being in utter shock at her suggestion, but excited, I quickly corrected my eyes which were wide in disbelief and said, “Yes!” What’s even more amazing about this story is that this happened the next day AND the next! By Day 3 I didn’t know what had happened to Nanny or who this woman even was. But I enjoyed those Burger King lunches, dodging Ottawa traffic each day to get there, and after one of those visits, going with her to the park, just walking around, and taking in the sights of the Rideau Canal, hand in hand.

Nanny was a hard worker. I still shake my head in disbelief when I think of how hard she worked, for so many years. I honestly don’t know how she managed to do it all. She cooked three meals a day, found the time and energy to grow and tend a large garden, can all the produce from the garden, hang the laundry on the line to dry, sew dresses and matching outfits, sew on buttons and hem items for her grandkids, work outside the home part-time, still manage to run home on her lunch break to make and serve lunch to Poppy before going back to work in the afternoon, pay the bills, mow the lawn, plant flower beds, and knit a plethora of items, just to spend every second Saturday at CARP – Ottawa’s farmer’s market – to sell her hand-knit creations. I enjoyed spending those mornings with her at the market. Sometimes, she would open her cash box and give me a bit of change to go buy snacks at another vendor’s booth. She may have been frugal – but she was also very generous. Not only with her money, but also with her time. I remember waking up one night just before midnight and, noticing the kitchen light still on, I made my way out to the kitchen just to find her sitting at the table, knitting a dishcloth – a common occurrence. Instead of being bothered by the fact that I was out of bed in the middle of the night, she just asked me if I was hungry and promptly made me a peanut butter and jam sandwich. I ate it while I watched her knit quietly. I asked if she’d be going to bed anytime soon since it was late, and she casually replied that she had about another 10 dishcloths to knit before market the next morning…so she’d be awhile yet. I just assumed that adults didn’t need sleep after that.

Finally, Nanny loved Jesus. And she made Jesus known. She taught Christ and His love to her children and to those around her. This is evident in the lives of her descendants and in the way she treated others. I remember vaguely her expressing frustration one day because a patient she had been assigned to sit with wasn’t receiving the level of care she felt her patient needed or deserved. To Nanny, the situation was unfair and unjust, and she was going to make her thoughts known to whoever it was that was in charge. She gracefully fought for justice when she could. She aimed to show Christ’s love and character to everyone. I distinctly remember seeing her Bible open on the kitchen table (amidst all the coupons) so very often. Before tucking me in at night, she would kneel beside the bed, gently brush her fingertips over my eyelids to help me sleep and would pray with and for me. I’ve never forgotten how loved that simple action made me feel. She was a very good Nanny to me. With fond remembrance, at times I still glide my hands over other sleepy, little eyelids, and I have to say, that trick still seems to work.

Nanny was by no means perfect. She had her faults. But I will always be grateful for the gentle and loving manner in which she treated me. I am forever thankful for the legacy she has left. She loved Jesus. And, if you knew her at all, then you know her life was evident of that.

Elatasad: A Story of an Empty Home, Broken Hearts, and Inextricable Happiness

by Becca, posted in Christian Living

Did you know that it’s actually possible to feel inextricably happy and sad at the exact same time? It’s definitely possible. I learned that this past week. I “researched” Google to see if there is a word that describes feeling both of those emotions at the same time and my results seemed to come up a bit skewed. The closest word I could find in the English language to describe feeling both happiness and sadness, simultaneously, was: “bittersweet”. However, I don’t find that word actually provides me with the satisfaction I require today. It just doesn’t seem to convey what I feel…precisely. Google’s mixed results also suggested the words, “saudade” – a Portugese term referring to “a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for something or someone that one cares for and/or loves”, and “elatasad”, which apparently means, “feeling sad but also happy and excited”. I don’t know if the Oxford dictionary recognizes those terms or not, but frankly, I don’t care. They’re exactly how I’m feeling right now, so I’ll go with them.

As you most likely already know, there are seven stages to the grieving process. You also are probably aware that those stages rarely are experienced in any order…and those stages are likely to repeat themselves at any given time. The seven stages of grief don’t care one iota about order. They just hit you hard, usually when you least expect them. I won’t bore you with providing an exegesis on those seven stages, rather, for the sake of some brevity, I’ll assume you know most of them.

Anger. I’m so angry that I don’t even know what to type at this very moment. You know it. You’ve felt it. I mean REALLY felt it! There have been times where the anger you’ve felt has made you want to vomit, to shake, to scream profanity into the freezing cold, dark night. And then…you realize there is nothing you can do. So you just stare. At nothing really. You just feel…empty. Angry. Unbelievably depressed. Wondering if there is something, anything, you could have done to help prevent the current events that are swirling inside your mind. But that’s just it. You couldn’t. There is/was nothing you could do. And that’s when you stand in your friend’s empty house, making sure the pipes haven’t frozen in -40 degree weather, staring at the emptiness around you, recognizing that the emptiness you see before you, matches the empty and gaping hole left in your heart. They’ve gone. And no amount of questioning or re-running conversations in your mind will bring them back. And there you are amidst all the “empty”, left to figure out how to grieve it all.

For me, my anger and despair arose this week from saying goodbye to a friend. Not through death, but from a long-distance move. You might think that I’m being overly dramatic. “Your friend moved away? Seriously? Anger and grief because of that?” I hear you. And something inside me snarls that I know nothing of real grief. But the real me knows that I do. We could discuss my childhood friend dying in a horrific and tragic car accident when he was only 5 years old…before I could say goodbye. We could discuss watching my father leave my childhood home while I begged him to come back…before I could say goodbye. (He didn’t.) We could discuss the time I booked my plane ticket in the middle of university finals to fly to Ontario…to say goodbye…to my grandfather, just to be informed the next morning he passed away. I made it for the funeral. I have a profound hatred for goodbyes. I wonder why….

But, we don’t need to get into all that. I do know grief. In my own way. And you know yours. But here’s the real thing: My anger/grief/emptiness/whatever you want to call it, doesn’t stem from the saying goodbye…this time. It stems from the reason my friend had to leave.

I’ve said goodbye to two friends in the last three years due to very unjust and unfair circumstances. This one? Abuse. Does that make you cringe? I hope it does. Because of abuse that had gone on for way too long, my friend and her husband had to pack up their family, their belongings, their whole life, and move away. Her husband quit his job and they are moving from a beautiful, new home to a bat and mice-infested home far away. Why? Her words to me were, “Because it’s better than abuse”. That’s why I’m angry. That’s why I’m devastated. It’s so unfair and unjust. If I’m this angry, how must my friend feel? She’s the one having to say goodbye to everything. I’m angry, not only for me, but also for her.

“Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.”

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The burden of grief weighs heavily, doesn’t it? This past year has afforded me the privilege to provide care and a listening ear to two women who have lost their husbands. I’ve had the opportunity to sit with both ladies – to listen to their hearts, to hear some of their grief. And that has been an honor for me. I don’t take those opportunities lightly. I appreciate them. Those moments are sacred. They remind me that our life here is short. Our time is not unlimited. Our relationships and friendships do not and cannot last forever. At least, not here on earth.

But THAT is where we have hope! Our hope lies in Jesus Christ – the One who comforts us and grieves with us. The One who knows grief intimately. The One who said goodbye to the riches and beauty and comfort of His heavenly home, to take on human form, to give us eternal life – forgiveness of sins and the hope and assurance of heaven, where we will never have to say goodbye ever again.

That is why I can smile tonight. That is why I can feel grief and inextricable happiness at the same time. Not only because of the hope we have of heaven and no more “goodbyes”, but also because I love my friend dearly and desire the best for her. And right now, the best thing for her is to move away from her current situation to a more peaceful one. When you love someone, it hurts to say goodbye, but you also can’t help but rejoice to see them encounter freedom and peace in their lives. You rejoice in all happiness for them and their new-found home and hope. That’s just what friends do.

When was the last time you experienced it? Grief, that is.

The sad reality of life here on this planet is that we all do and will experience grief more often than we would ever desire to. But…God is gracious. And yes, I may have to keep reminding myself of that fact (every day), but it’s true. I won’t, even for a moment, pretend to have answers for you on the topic of grief, how long it will last, when it might overwhelm you, or what constitutes the appropriate situation to cause grief, because we cannot be the judge of one another’s grief…ever. I would argue that grief is sacred. It’s a process that must be honored and respected by all and never given a time frame.

I believe it was Dr. Seuss who penned, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” There is profound truth to those words. It seems like just yesterday that a co-worker of mine told me (when discovering I was moving to my current home-town) that his nephew’s wife lived there and that I should really meet her because we’d get along great. I nodded and agreed, having no clue how I’d actually get in touch with or meet this woman, but God did. I found myself sitting in a very random group of ladies one evening when I overheard someone whisper that the woman sitting directly across from me was “so-and-so’s nephew’s wife”. Immediately, I terrified her by excitedly asking her to confirm that remark and by stating how I was told we were supposed to meet and be friends. Thankfully, the surprise and fright that I caused her didn’t last, and by God’s grace, we developed a beautiful friendship over the last few years. One of trust, mutual respect, and love. Although I hated saying goodbye to her this week, I’m profoundly grateful and thankful for the time God allowed us to be friends. And by His grace, we will continue that friendship with the wonderful use of technology. A blessing. Absolutely.

For now, my heart hurts. And that’s ok. Because I know that God is not only with me, but He’s also with her in this move, guiding her steps, filling her with His peace, and being her Providence. And He does that for each of us when we ask Him to. Regardless of our circumstances, regardless of our current pain or grief or heartache, He is our peace. Lay your head on your pillow tonight, resting in the knowledge that He will provide for you, that He is your Peace…in every situation you face. Rest in the hope we have of heaven: a place where we won’t have to say goodbye ever again.

“Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

– John 14:27

Continue reading “Elatasad: A Story of an Empty Home, Broken Hearts, and Inextricable Happiness” →

A Hesed Kind of Kindness

by Becca, posted in Christian Living

“What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?” -Jean Jacques Rosseau

The Oxford Languages dictionary suggests the word ‘kindness’ is: the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate. What images does your brain conjure up when you think of the word ‘kindness’? Do you remember a specific event; one in which kindness was extended to you? What memories come flooding back? What emotions do you feel? Or, instead, do you remember instances in your life where your very soul craved to be shown kindness on some level, and you never received it? Perhaps you didn’t grow up in a home where kindness was practiced. Or for some of you, you may not even know how to recognize kindness anymore because what you thought was kindness, was in actual fact, manipulation, control, and abuse. Whatever your experience, I invite you to share a conversation with me here in this space. Grab a cup of coffee, find a comfy spot on your couch, take a deep breath, exhale your chaos, and join me in this quiet moment.

Over the past year or so, I’ve been processing and pondering not only the word ‘kindness’, but also what it means to be kind, what that looks like, and why it’s imperative to practice extending it to others, even if we don’t feel that we are recipients of kindness ourselves. My journey started when I began working through Michael Card’s book, ‘Inexpressible: Hesed and the Mystery of God’s Loving-Kindness’.

Have you ever heard of the Hebrew word, ‘Hesed’? It’s a powerful one. A life-changing one…if you know what it means. But here’s the catch: you won’t ever really know the full extent of what it means because there is no one word in the English language that can accurately translate it completely. 🙂 Hesed is a Hebrew word found in the Bible which refers to all the characteristics of God. Card states, “A single word is rarely enough in a given context to express all that hesed means, so translators are forced to pile on adjectives.” For example: Hesed can mean the following:

miracle, mercy, generous mercy, benevolence, compassion, persistent faithfulness, faithfulness, faithful act, reliable, solidarity, goodwill, ardent zeal, grace, graciousness, extravagant generosity, largesse, glory, honor, honoring, pity, clemency, rock, bedrock, God-fearing, piety, charity, strength, devout, active goodness, favor, immense favor, loyal friendship, good heartedness, working graciously, generous, endlessly patient, generous act of goodness, devotion, devoted work, commitment, goodness, good deeds, gracious dealings, beauty, big-heartedness, unconditional, all-inclusive love for all creation

Sound like a lot? Yes. And it should. Most commentators would suggest that any time you see the word ‘loving-kindness’ in the Old Testament, it would be referring to the word hesed. Card gives a very simplistic, yet beautiful description of Hesed, which is the definition I’ll use as reference for the rest of this blog. He writes, “Hesed: When the person from whom I have a right to expect nothing gives me everything.” Isn’t that beautiful? Doesn’t that inspire you? At the very least, it ought to point you to the beauty of the gospel: God’s ultimate kindness to us.

What motivates you to be kind? Stop and think with me for awhile here. Don’t rush past this. What’s your motivator to extend kindness? Do you have an alterior motive? Are you hoping for kindness to be returned to you? Are you expecting anything in return? What’s the driving force behind why you show kindness to others? A friend asked me this question not that long ago and it forced me to really think on what my motivation is behind why I choose to be kind.

After some thought, I came up with the following: I choose to be kind because of my obedience to Christ. Paul states in Ephesians 5:1, “Be imitators of God”. Christ has been extremely kind to me and compassionate, so I try to do likewise to others. Christ also states in John 14:15 that “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” What was the greatest commandment? Matthew 22:36 quotes Jesus’ response to this question. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” That’s where my motivation comes from. I have no wish to receive anything in return. I don’t just show kindness to try and “convert” people to Christianity. If that happens as a result, then that’s awesome, but it’s not my goal or motivation in extending kindness. It comes down to one point and for me, that point is being obedient to and to imitate Christ alone.

When we make the choice to extend kindness, we choose to be an imitator of Christ and His Word. When we choose to respond in love instead of reacting in anger or frustration, we do what Paul tells us to in Colossians 3:12-14. 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. When we choose to put on kindness, we become what Nancy Demoss Wolgemuth calls “instruments of grace”. She states in her book, Adorned: Living Out the Beauty of the Gospel, Together, “Yes, people may cause the lion’s share of our headaches. But when we serve people, we serve Christ. And when we treat people with kindness rather than indifference or impatience, we become channels of blessing, dispensing gracious words and actions that can’t help but adorn the gospel of Christ.” (pg. 319)

But here’s another question for you. Have you ever noticed that it’s one thing to show kindness to a homeless person by purchasing them a coffee or a lunch, but it’s a totally different thing to show kindness to the people who live in our very home? We might be tempted to think, But I AM kind to my family! I make their meals, I do their laundry, I pick up after them, etc. Those are indeed good things to do and they have the ability to show kindness, but do you do those things out of love? Because if you don’t, it’s pointless. Read that again. Pointless! Wolgemuth suggests that “God cares about our motives and our disposition – how that service is carried out, how we treat and respond to our family, friends, and others.” (pg. 310) Paul states in 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 “If I speak in the tongues of men and angels…if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge…if I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain NOTHING.” Based on these verses, Wolgemuth continues, “He might similarly say of women who serve their families and care for their homes, ‘If I have a house so spotless that people could eat off the kitchen floor…and if I can whip up incredibly scrumptious meals on a tight budget…and if I’ve transformed our home into a magazine-quality showcase…but I don’t do it all with kindness, it’s nothing.” Our kindness and love are not felt when the noise of our tiredness, exasperation, and frustration screams so much louder.

When we choose to be kind, we showcase God’s glory and His love to the rest of the world.

To end, I wanted to share some stories with you that had been sent to me on kindness in action. I trust they will encourage you and uplift you, maybe make you shed a tear or two as they did me, and motivate you to extend the hesed of God to a world around you that’s desperate for kindness.

Three of my homeschool mom friends came to my house the week we were packing up to move. As a mother of seven, the basement clutter was overwhelming to me. They hauled out and sorted through stuff in every nook and cranny. The following year, those same three and their girls drove 3.5 hours to my new home to throw me a surprise 50th birthday party!

I was having a rough day, slept through my alarm, late for work, stressful clients. At lunch, I stopped and got a sandwich and grabbed a bag of donuts to get me through the rest of the day. As soon as I walked out the door, I dropped my sandwich. The container flew open and the sandwich fell to the ground. I picked it up and threw it out and started to walk away, too frustrated to walk back. Then I heard someone yelling “Excuse me!” I turned around and a guy who had seen me drop my sandwich told the cashier and they replaced my sandwich for free. I was so embarrassed but also happy and grateful and it made my day better.

Last Christmas was the first year my father and his siblings were without their mother. Dad had 12 siblings and one was my aunt who has Down Syndrome. She is living in a group home with other women who are mentally challenged. Last year, my dad, along with his other 11 siblings decided to each take a day leading up to Christmas to surprise my Auntie and the other ladies, basically like a 12 Days of Christmas. They did anything from performing skits for all the ladies to bringing gifts for everyone, baking, singing Christmas carols, etc. I just thought it was such a wonderful thing to do for my Aunt, yet alone the other ladies that lived there. I’m sure it must have been tough to spend their first Christmas without Grandma, and then to have all the Covid restrictions on top of everything…but every time another sibling showed up, all of the ladies faces lit up with joy.

It was in the fall of 2009. I was about 3 months pregnant with my first baby and was feeling very sick and very low emotionally. I was still pretty new to the city, and to Canada, and to marriage, and to pregnancy. And, though I was very happy to be in the place I was, I was feeling a little lonely for all that was familiar and comfortable. I had to do some shopping and went into a gift shop to browse for a gift for a friend. I had picked up a wooden Willow Tree figurine and considered it, then put it back. As I pulled my hand out from the shelf, my coat sleeve caught another Willow Tree figure and it fell to the floor, the head rolling off across the floor. I was a little panicked and upset that now I’d have to pay for something that was worthless and broken. I was trembling as I took the head and body of the figure up to the desk. I held them up and explained to the store-keeper that I had knocked it off and it broke. He shook his head a bit and said, “Oh, I’m gonna have to have you pay for it”, not unkindly but a bit brusquely. I nodded and barely managed an, “I know”, before tears came to my eyes. He could tell how bad I felt and I was trying to be brave and I knew the right thing was absolutely to pay for it. I just felt awful about breaking it, awful about having to waste money on something broken, and maybe just awful because I felt so sick all the time. Anyway, he paused, tipped his head thoughtfully, and said, “Wait just a minute”. He headed to the back of the store and brought back a little package of super glue and handed it to me, saying maybe that would help me fix it if I wanted to. I thanked him with a choked up voice and got out my money to pay. At that point, he waved his hand and just said, “No, don’t worry about it. You can just have it and the glue.” Then my tears spilled over and I weakly protested that I knew I should pay for it, that I was responsible for breaking it. He wouldn’t accept my payment and then asked what chruch I went to. I explained briefly about my small home church group and he shook his head and said something like, “I was just wondering, beacuse most people wouldn’t have even told me. They would have left the broken figure on the floor and walked out. So for you to come to me and accept responsibility, well, that’s just a very different kind of person.” I thanked him with all my heart for showing me mercy and kindness. Then I walked home and bawled most of the afternoon over the kindness he showed to me in my moment of shame, embarrassment, and lonliness. It still makes me cry. I glued that head back on, and even though it wasn’t even a figurine I would have picked, not one of my favorites, I have it still to remind me of mercy and kindness given when we don’t deserve it. The figure is holding out a wrapped gift. It amazes me how the figure itself pictures what that gentleman did for me. It may all sound like I was over-dramatic or made a huge deal out of something that was pretty trivial. The thing is, that kind man met me in my neediness and was kind just to be kind. He didn’t have to. Kind of like Jesus.