A Passport Stamped by Mercy

The older I get, the less I seem to care what other people think about me.

Not completely — let’s be honest — but the grip of needing approval has definitely loosened. The hunger for pats on the back isn’t nearly as "rumbly" as it once was.

Something has slowly replaced it.

The more I’ve learned to believe what God says about me — how He values me, and the beauty of an identity rooted in Christ (not self-identity, Christ-identity) — the freer I’ve become to simply do what I’m called to do.

No nods in my direction required.

But that truth took a long time to travel from my head to my heart. Years, actually.

Which is why I can now say this without flinching:

Being a holy oddball is perfectly OK.

Actually… it’s worth CELEBRATING!

Because the Christian life was never meant to look normal. Scripture never promises cultural comfort. Instead it uses words like pilgrim, exile, stranger, foreigner, set apart, peculiar.

Not broken. Not misplaced. Not forgotten.

Just different — on purpose.

I’m walking through a world that doesn’t quite fit me anymore, and honestly, I won’t ever fit — and don’t want to! 

But that tension no longer unsettles me the way it used to, because I know where the road leads.

There is a place waiting — guarded, reserved, untouched by decay.
Imperishable (beyond the reach of change).
Undefiled (uncorruptible - imagine!).
Unfading (eternally vibrant and fresh, will not/can not disappear).

Peter explains why this isn’t wishful thinking:

“According to His great mercy, He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:3)."

That sentence anchors everything.

My future isn’t based on personality, performance, usefulness, reputation, or how well I’m received. It rests entirely on the resurrection of Jesus and the mercy of God.

Just as Jesus encouraged Nicodemus, I’ve been born again — born into a new Kingdom. Not earned, not achieved, not maintained by good behavior, but given by grace through faith (Ephesians 2:8-9).

A gift.

Which means my citizenship changed long before my location ever will.  How about you? 

So yes… I’m becoming more comfortable being a holy oddball.

Not for attention.
Not out of pride.
Not to prove how different I am.

AND BY ALL MEANS NOT TO BE UNUSUAL FOR THE SAKE OF UNUSUALNESS!

But because when Christ becomes everything, you inevitably become different.

His Spirit reshapes your love, your want-to, your responses, your ambitions, your definitions of success. And, eventually, you realize: you’re living out of a different homeland-mindset while still residing here.

You still care about people — deeply.
You just stop needing them to validate you.

So today I’m praying you embrace your peculiarity with joy.

Not awkwardness.
Not defensiveness.
Joy.

Because the passport you carry here is temporary.

But the one stamped by Mercy?
That one never expires.

REFLECTION: 

By the way...Yesterday was the first day of Lent. This is a great season to evaluate where your journey ends? Where is your "real" passport country? What mind-set are you living out of?

 One of the best ways to survive living as a holy oddball is to imagine not just what Christ has done for you through salvation, but what you've been saved to - HEAVEN'S JOYS.

Living as Holy Oddballs

In less than two months, I’ll be heading out to speak at an event for women who serve internationally. Those who know me know I consider this to be my sweet spot. In spaces like this, I’ve found my niche—and for about ten days, I feel an unmistakable sense of belonging.

In many ways, it gives me a glimpse of what heaven might be like… that place I will ultimately call home, surrounded by my people.

And yet, it also vividly reminds me that—for now—this world is not my home.

As I’ve prayed about the messages I’ll bring to these women, I keep sensing that this is exactly where I need to land: acknowledging, claiming, and even pre-determining the “how-to” of living as outliers while we reside temporarily in this world.

I’ve chosen the book of 1 Peter as my primary biblical foundation, though from Genesis to Revelation this theme is everywhere. There’s no shortage of insight to glean. As I’ve bounced around Scripture, digging into the lives of formative individuals who add more insight to Peter’s words, one thing has become clear: not much has changed from the opening chapters of Genesis until now.

Human nature is remarkably consistent.

We are still deeply affected by what I’ll call the but-I-want-to-be-like-the-nations-around-me syndrome. Sadly, there is no vaccine for this disease.

I’m reminded of my children—when they were younger, of course—pleading their case with airtight logic: “But Mom, everybody’s going…doing…wearing…listening…watching…” I get it. None of us wants to stand out as peculiar.

And yet—Peter asks us to do exactly that; and, not only to embrace this identity, but to celebrate it. To make peace with it. To receive it as a gift (shocking, I know)!

In essence, Peter says to his audience as his letter is read aloud: God has called you out. He has chosen you. You are sojourners, exiles, foreigners—and you will be until heaven. Then he adds language that can definitely unsettle us: a holy nation, a peculiar people, pilgrims.

Lean into those words. Acknowledge them. Accept them.

You—and I—are privileged to be social misfits; for we are citizens of another Kingdom. Strangers here. We are meant to be uncomfortable, unsettled, non-conforming, different.

As I was writing this, I opened ChatGPT (my go-to research team) to ask for help with a title. I think I could hear "Chat" rolling on the floor laughing with the prompt response:

Living as Holy Oddballs

Well… there it is. And honestly, Chat might be right. There is much to think about when it comes to this identity—most importantly this question: 

What does it look like to live out our faith on foreign soil?

Let's explore this over a few Thursdays. This is a good space for me to process the messages I’ll be sharing (thanks!).

For now, I’ll leave you with one thought to ponder.

Years ago—probably back in the ancient era of 1976—I read a prayer and jotted it down in a journal I’ve held onto ever since. It reads:

“How can I stand, O God, for what I believe and not stand out as peculiar?
I don’t want to call attention to myself, cause trouble to others, or embarrass them;
but I do pray that through all the changes of life down to the gates of death,
You will keep me true to myself, true to those I love, and true to Thee. Amen.”

In light of 1 Peter, I now think this might be the wrong prayer to pray.

What if we reshaped this prayer to reflect the heart of God's servant writing to exiles scattered across Asia Minor?

O God of Exiles,
let me stand for what I believe without compromise,
knowing I will stand out as peculiar.
Set-apart people, by virtue of Your calling, will draw attention—
but may that focus quickly shift from me to You.
May others see Jesus in me.
And may I remain true to the convictions I hold,
loving You and loving others, and living holy, as I am called to do. Amen.

SIX WORDS FOR MY POCKET.

Six words stood out to me this morning.

Six words we need to tuck into our pocket—words to pull out when we need them most.

Six simple, not-so-random words:

The mighty hand of the Lord.

(thanks for the picture, Allison)

I’ve read those six words over and over again this week.

And then I started noticing the verbs attached to this Hand—verbs found in just four chapters of Exodus alone (13-16). This Hand (all on my behalf):

brings
leads
guides
lights
fights
hurls
saves
defends
covers
displays
shatters
throws down
unleashes
consumes
overtakes
destroys
works wonders
redeems
delivers
swallows
loves—unfailingly and steadfastly
establishes
plants
rules
heals
provides
protects
gives
creates
proves
shows;                                                                                                                                                          and, creates!                                                                                                                                                                     

What more do I really need in my pocket than these six words?

When I’m in the midst of chaos and confusion…

When fear threatens to consume…

When the enemy—whether tangibly real, or unseen principalities and powers (Ephesians 6)—presses in on my soul...

When disease ravages my body and old age begins to settle in…

What more do I need in the darkest of nights,
in the dead of winter,
in the driest desert,
in the shadowed valley of death,
in the depths of grief and loss…

When life turns out differently than I imagined, or expected it should be…

In these moments, I need to revisit these six words and pull them out of my jeans pocket.

They are more than comfort.
More than cheer.

And while they are worthy of celebration, they are more than whispered worship.

These words are life-breathing-assurances. A FAITHFUL PROMISE!

The God of the Mighty Hand is always with me.

And that Hand still moves on my behalf—
a reflection of His heart toward me.

Because hands do.

Hands act.
Hands move.                                                                                                                                             Hands work.

The Lord’s hands display His divine power—power that grants me everything I need for life and godliness.

His hands are majestic in holiness and strength.

When I step into His throne room, I do not worry.
His Mighty Hand always extends the reigning scepter toward me.
He moves to answer my call.

He answers—
not always according to my agenda,
but always according to His goodness.

His Hand lights my darkness,
holds me in the Day of my Distress,
and wipes away my tears.

His Hand is
MAJESTIC IN HOLINESS,
AWESOME IN GLORY,
WORKING WONDERS.

Six words.

Tuck them in your pocket.

They truly are life-breathing.

THE MIGHTY HAND OF THE LORD!

What If There Were No Quitters Day?

As long as we’re still in January, I’m holding on to the notion that there’s still time to lean into the “fresh start” a New Year brings.

So let me ask you a question (because I have been asked this quite a bit): did you make any New Year’s resolutions?

I tend not to... But every now and then, I’ll make a new commitment—usually when I sense it might help me become a better version of "me" for the glory of God.

But how about you?

Most people make resolutions…and then break them before the month is over. As I was typing this, I looked up a few statistics (thank you, our ever-helpful-friend, AI). Here’s what I learned: roughly 31% of Americans set New Year’s resolutions, most often focusing on health, finances, or personal happiness... yet, only about 9–12% actually keep them for the entire year. Most quit by early February. Apparently, “Quitters Day” is a real thing—and it usually lands around the second Friday of January. Who knew?

Why does this happen?

Honestly, I’m not totally sure. But I’d guess unrealistic expectations and a lack of planning have something to do with it. It’s one thing to feel inspired on January 1; it’s another to stay faithful when motivation wears thin.

I think I may have stumbled upon a helpful insight just this week—so bear with me.

As mentioned, I committed to "praying through the Bible in a year" (you can call that a New Year’s resolution if you’d like.) So, as a part of that, just this past week, I read again the story of Jacob as he fled from his uncle, Laban, after working fourteen long, difficult years for him—those years being the bride-price for Leah and Rachel.

If you remember the story, Laban was not at all pleased that Jacob left without a farewell. He claimed to be offended by the lack of hugs and kisses, but trust me—that wasn’t the real issue. When the two men finally met days later, they made a covenant, a vow of sorts—essentially agreeing to disagree and go their separate ways in peace.

As part of that vow, they set up a large pile of stones as a witness. This “watchtower” stood as a reminder that the Lord Himself was watching over their agreement, even when they were out of one another’s sight. The place was called Mizpah—meaning “watchtower” (Genesis 31:49).

What does that have to do with New Year’s resolutions?

Quite a lot, actually.

Because it has to do with accountability.

Scripture is clear that vows matter. We’re warned not to make promises lightly, because breaking them dishonors the Lord. Jacob and Laban understood the seriousness of commitment, which is why they established a visible reminder of their vow.

Maybe we need something similar.

What if we had our own “Mizpah”—a tangible reminder of a commitment we’ve made? Something we see regularly. Something that quietly calls us back when we’re tempted to quit.

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MIZPAH: a visual reminder that quietly calls us to endurance and steadfastness when we are tempted to give up...

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So let me ask again: have you set any goals for 2026? If so, consider creating your own personal Mizpah. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. For Jacob and Laban, it was a pile of stones. Yours could be anything.

But maybe—just maybe—it will help you endure beyond Quitters Day.

And, you know what they say, it only takes 21 days to form a habit...so, if you can make it that long, who knows?

The Sacred Weariness of Prayer

(Today's Scripture focus is found in Genesis 27-28.)

A reminder about prayer: it is our paramount joy-job—the sacred work in which the Lord graciously invites us to participate with Him. What an honor that the God of the universe chooses to involve us in His purposes through prayer.

And yet, while prayer is simple at its core—a conversation with God—it can also be deeply wearisome.

That tension brings to mind how often Jesus used the word persevere when He spoke about prayer and faith.

(Luke 11: 5-13, "because of his shameless audacity, he will surely get up and give what you need.")

Per means “through, completely, all the way.”
Severe refers to something intensely unpleasant, something that can produce strain, anxiety, or fear.

Shameless audacity!

Put together, perseverance suggests pressing all the way through something difficult without quitting. No wonder the early church fathers and mothers spoke of “praying through” their trials. They understood that faithful prayer often requires endurance. Still, let’s be honest—keeping on in prayer can feel tedious and discouraging.

I’m afraid I often stop short. I give up before I ever see the answer.
How small my faith feels in reality.

As I bring my requests before the Lord—especially for the generations who will follow me—I long for a faith that perseveres. I want to pray with endurance, not resignation. This week, I’ve been freshly reminded just how essential perseverance is when we set our hearts on praying for something specific.

While reflecting on the early life of Jacob, I jotted down a few takeaways.

Jacob. Oh my.

His sins fit his name perfectly—supplanter, deceiver. Add liar and thief to the list, and the picture becomes even clearer. Yet there is so much to learn from his story.

First, Jacob did not pretend to have a faith he didn’t possess. When speaking to his father Isaac, he referred to the Lord as “your God.” What a gift that honesty was to Isaac and Rebekah. Jacob didn’t hide behind their faith or borrow their language to appear righteous. He didn’t act like a believer in one setting and someone else in another. His parents knew exactly where he stood—and therefore exactly how to pray for him.

They also knew how to pray because their own DNA ran through his veins. Much of who Jacob was, they were. Seeing ourselves in our children and grandchildren fuels our prayers. When I recognize my own weaknesses mirrored in those who come after me, it makes me want to pray my “bad” right out of them. Isaac and Rebekah understood perseverance well. Scripture tells us Isaac prayed twenty years—twenty years—for a child. He was willing to pray through.

Second, somewhere around Bethel, the house of God, it becomes clear that Jacob—like those who follow after us—was on a unique, personal journey toward faith. It was slow, often measured in inches rather than miles, and full of mystery and reaping the consequences of his own sins. God still had much refining to do before Jacob could step fully into the covenant promises given to Abraham and Isaac.

Even after encountering God and His angels, Jacob tried to bargain: “If You bless me, then the Lord will be my God.” His heart wasn’t ready yet. It would take many more years—and eventually a wrestling match with God Himself—before true, life-changing faith took root. Thank goodness Jacob’s early life was not the end of his story.

In the meantime, this much is certain: God was with Jacob. His plans were never thwarted. His promises were fulfilled. And by grace, I am part of that lineage of faith.

So yes—there is every reason to persevere in prayer. And won’t it be an ebullient moment when we see, firsthand, how God used those steadfast supplications? How many “Jacobs” might we pray into the Kingdom? I've gotten a late start. 

God of our journey, grant us patience with the journey of those who follow after us, and a heart that will persevere in prayer for those we love to find their way straight to your loving heart. 

Amen.

Our Most Important Work

 

This quote popped up from out of nowhere on social media - 

I am convinced my computer hears what I discuss out loud, but is it now reading hearts, and informing my social media feed, as well?

The last few weeks have been full of longing, and lingering long, with "concerns of the heart."

Some of those are family concerns...

Some are for friends recently diagnosed with serious health issues...

Others weigh heavy on my heart who are experiencing struggles with their children and their marriage...

And, of course, I am deeply burdened by the indecipherable news at home and around the world...

"Longing" adequately describes the state of my soul; a yearning desire, that often comes without words, because words aren't adequate.

Yet, the Scriptures tell me that the Spirit of the Lord is able to interpret my unspoken, heartfelt asks.

I'm so thankful. 

The "significantly important job" of prayer keeps popping up over and again, and as a result, my reflection this week has been consuming. 

I remember reading one of Andrew Murray's books on prayer in which he said:

We must begin to believe that God, through the mystery of prayer, has entrusted us with a force that can move the heavenly world and can bring its power here to earth.

I'd say on a scale of 1-10, the important job of prayer is about a 20. 

Yet, I often feel like I fail at stringing words together in prayer. 

I love reading prayers from some of the dear folks from bygone days. 

I often pick up Prayers, Ancient and Modern; Valley of Vision (a book of Puritan prayers); and sometimes, Every Moment Holy. These have a way of speaking prose-like-prayers that resonate within my soul. 

BUT...

Late in 2025, an author I was reading told how he had committed to praying through the Psalms, reading one every day, and praying it back to the Lord. 

I liked that idea. The Word of God says that if we ask according to His will, He will answer us. What is more in accordance with His will, than His Word? 

What is more in accordance with God's will than His Word?

Maybe I'm a little bit of an over-achiever, but two things struck me entering 2026 that I would like to work toward as far as personal spiritual disciplines (hold on, this will soon come together). 

1) I'm committed to bring the longing of my soul to my Lord on a daily basis that He might move heaven and bring it to earth, especially for the next generation of my family; and, to make this my most important work.

2) In keeping with something I do every three years, I am reading the Bible through (chronologically). So, I purchased a Bible with wide margins on the sides, and as I do my daily reading, I write out short prayers for my "next-genners," using these daily readings as my prayer guide. I began "praying the Bible through" on January 1, and am watching my Bible turn into a lovely book of "common prayer."

It's not magic.

My posture is "open hands and an open heart;" my attitude is expectant to see how the Lord might use my feeble attempts at taking His words, stringing them into prayer. 

So far, it has been a delightful practice. 

My thinking with this blog is not "look at me;" but more "wanna join me?"

What might happen if we took the longing of our souls and turned it into the most important job of prayer that might actually move heaven and bring God's power to earth?????

I'd love to see...

O Thou, who are ever the same, grant us so to pass through the coming year with faithful hearts, that we may be able in all things to please Thy loving eyes–Amen.

Mozarabic, A. D. 700

~from Prayers, Ancient and Modern~

A New Year Goal: Fleshing Out the Gospel

Something shifted during the years of the COVID pandemic (primarily between 2020-2022). Between the ire of isolation, the rise of disinformation within the news media, and the arena of social media, a spirit of divisiveness invaded our culture. With it, came a certain sense of freedom to speak our minds. Be it opinions regarding COVID policies, or of politics, ethics, or religion, factions rose like separate kites in prominence, each trailing with intense emotion. Gone were the days of putting into practice the Lord’s admonition through the pen of the Apostle Paul, (if we ever really had):

Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. 

(Romans 12:16-18, emphasis mine).

Live in harmony.

Live peaceably.

Seek to strive for that which is in the interest of others.

Consider the feelings of other people.

Why risk relationship for the sake of taking up sides?

Cultivate a spirit of amicability, of friendliness. 

Maintain your own opinions without stirring up controversy.

Yet, controversy has gone into the pot of communication-soup in excessive amounts and is stirred over the fire regularly. 

If we’re going to get back on the right track, the obvious question we have to ask is this one: 

What is in my heart that spills out in such hostility and dissension? 

It’s a valid question, since:

…what comes out of the mouth (or keyboard) proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person. 

(Matthew 15:18-20a, emphasis mine)

Most often, the answer to that question is anger or irritation over a felt-need. In other words, there’s something we want, so badly, that we war within, and (oops!), out of the mouth it flows. Much of the time it’s a need to be right, to be heard, to be seen and validated. But, whatever our NEED, it over-shadows how someone else might be affected.

Oh, we can attempt to hide behind the vehicle of quoting someone else, defaulting to, “Oh, I didn’t say that - he did (or, she did);” and, yet, someone somewhere feels the sting and their soul is troubled. 

I’m not pointing fingers. I simply can’t. I’m guilty, as well. 

After taking a four-month sabbatical from all things social media over last summer, I recognized just how subtly this shift towards personal opining took place. So much so, I didn’t even recognize it in myself…until I did. 

That’s when an old prayer from St. Francis of Assisi floated across my desk. All through my college years, this poem was tacked on my bulletin board beside my dorm-room-desk. I read it so many times, it became mine. It’s what I long to be, as I strive to live my life in a Christ-like manner. 

If I want to flesh out the gospel (and, I do!) - this prayer expressed my hope, as it did St. Francis back in 1912 (at the prelude of another era of conflict and uproar). 

The prayer begins: “Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace…” 

Let it be your reflection today, as it has been mine...and, maybe a New Year's Goal for us all in 2026.

 

Something to Think About

Read this prayer contemplatively.  Perhaps it will gel with your spirit, and become a prayer of your heart, as well.  I can’t think of any other words that would so express a greater need for us as Jesus-followers in this season. Apply it as you might…

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace!

Where there is hatred…let me sow love.

Where there is injury…pardon.

Where there is doubt…faith.

Where there is despair…hope.

Where there is darkness…light.

Where there is sadness…joy.

Oh Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek 

To be consoled…as to console.

To be understood…as to understand.

To be loved…as to love.

For it is in giving…that we receive;

It is in pardoning…that we are pardoned;

It is in dying…that we are born to eternal life.