He Knows What We Can Bear

(taken from the Bible App)

He Knows What We Can Bear

When I see this verse, I often think about how God knows how much we can bear.

How often have I been in the middle of something and thought, I can't bear this. I don't know how I'm going to get through this. God, please just take it away.

And more often than not, He doesn't.

Not because He doesn't hear me. Not because He doesn't care. But because He knows something I don't know—what's on the other side of it.

This verse reminds us that God is faithful. He knows our limits, even when we don't. He knows when something feels overwhelming to us, and He promises that we will never face temptation that is beyond what we can bear.

But there is another part of this verse that I think we sometimes overlook.

It tells us that when we are tempted, God will also provide a way out so that we can endure it.

More often than not, our way out of temptation may be as simple as saying NO.

No.

I don't need to go there.

I don't need to say that.

I don't need to respond that way.

I don't need to give in.

But sometimes saying no isn't enough. Sometimes the way out is to turn around and run in the opposite direction.

Joseph is a great example of this. When Potiphar's wife tried to tempt him, Joseph didn't stick around to see how strong his willpower was. He ran. He literally left his garment behind and got himself out of there.

Sometimes wisdom looks like running.

I think we can be guilty of believing that being strong means standing there and proving that we can resist temptation. But maybe sometimes the strongest thing we can do is recognize the temptation for what it is and get as far away from it as possible.

God promises to provide a way out. But we still have to choose to take it.

And that applies to more than just the obvious temptations. Sometimes the thing we need to escape is our own thinking—the thoughts that tell us we're alone, that we can't handle this, that God has forgotten us, or that whatever we're facing will never end.

Those thoughts can be tempting too.

When I'm in the middle of something difficult, I may not be able to see the way out. I may not understand why God hasn't simply removed the situation. I may even wonder how much longer I can keep going.

But God sees what I can't see.

He knows what is on the other side.

He knows what He is doing even when I don't understand it.

And maybe that's part of what faith really looks like—not always knowing how God is going to get us through something, but trusting that He will.

Sometimes He removes the temptation.

Sometimes He gives us the strength to endure it.

Sometimes He tells us to say no.

And sometimes He tells us to run.

Whatever the way out looks like, we can trust that God is faithful enough to provide it.

We just have to be willing to take it.

“God is faithful.”

Those may be some of the most comforting words in this entire verse.

Because when I don't know what to do, He does.

When I can't see the way out, He can.

And when I think I can't bear it, He already knows what I'm capable of bearing—and He is right there with me through it.

What Sports Teach Our Kids

What Sports Teach Our Kids 

I saw this in a post on social media and made an image for it because I thought it was such a great message for parents.

Take youth sports seriously. Not because your kid might go to the Olympics. But because it teaches kids what school can't.

I couldn't agree more.

We can't protect our kids from every hard moment.

And maybe we shouldn't.

I mean, right now Tim is dealing with an elbow injury that is keeping him from doing the sport he loves so much. This isn't the first hard moment he's had to work through in sports, either.

He spent 11 years doing TaeKwonDo sparring. Eleven years of practices, competitions, wins, losses, medals, disappointment, pressure, and learning how to get back up and do it again.

Then, after earning his 3rd-degree black belt, he made the decision to walk away from TaeKwonDo and start something completely different.

He went from being an experienced martial artist who had spent more than half his life doing the sport to being the new kid in Olympic weightlifting.

He had to start over.

And starting over isn't always easy.

There were missed lifts. Frustrating competitions. Days when things didn't go the way he wanted. Days when progress felt slow. And there were moments when I know he would have rather had a different outcome.

But that's one of the things I love about sports.

They give our kids a safe place to learn that not getting what you wanted doesn't mean you quit.

Let them miss.

Then let them try again.

The first missed lift hurts. The second one teaches them to keep getting after it.

I've watched Tim learn that firsthand.

Last year at Junior Nationals, he had a really hard moment on the platform. He actually passed out after a lift.

That wasn't how we wanted Nationals to go.

But he went home.

He rested.

He went back to work.

And he came back the next year.

This year, he returned to that same national stage and had the kind of day athletes dream about. He hit personal records, including a 130-kilogram clean and jerk and a 231-kilogram total, and became a USA Weightlifting Junior National Champion.

But honestly?

The championship wasn't the most important part of that story.

The most important part was coming back.

Because that's what resilience looks like.

Let them lose.

Then watch them shake the hands of the people who won.

Allow sports to teach them to respect someone who just beat them.

There is something powerful about watching two competitors give everything they have on the platform and then, when it's over, shake hands and congratulate each other.

You can teach resilience a thousand times with your words.

Sports gives them somewhere to actually practice it.

Let them sit.

Then let them keep cheering.

Being part of a team doesn't stop when you're not the one competing.

Tim is going to learn that lesson in a very real way this weekend.

He'll be at States, but he won't be lifting. His elbow injury has taken that opportunity away from him.

And I know that's hard.

He's worked hard. He's trained hard. He wanted to compete. He wanted to be on that platform with his teammates.

Instead, he'll be sitting in a chair watching them lift.

And he'll be cheering them on.

That's not exactly where he wants to be.

But there's a lesson in that, too.

Sometimes being part of something bigger than yourself means supporting someone else when you're the one who is disappointed.

Let them have the bad day.

Then let them come back.

Let them experience disappointment without immediately trying to make it disappear.

Let them learn that a bad day isn't a bad life.

Let them learn that a missed lift doesn't define them.

Let them learn that an injury doesn't erase everything they've accomplished.

Let them learn that sometimes the plan changes, and you have to adjust.

And sometimes, as parents, we have to learn to step back and let them do it.

There were certainly times when I wanted to fix things for Tim.

That's what parents do.

We see our kids hurting, frustrated, disappointed or struggling, and our instinct is to make it better.

But I've learned that I can't always—and shouldn't always—take the hard thing away.

Because some of the hard things we want to fix are the very things teaching our kids the most.

Sports have taught Tim things I couldn't teach him sitting at the kitchen table homeschooling him.

They've taught him how to fail in front of people and show up again the next day.

How to lose without quitting.

How to win without thinking he's better than someone else.

How to respect the person standing across from him.

How to be part of a team.

How to cheer for someone else when he's the one who wishes he were competing.

How to keep working when progress is slow.

How to handle disappointment.

How to get back up.

Missed lifts. Still showing up.
Losses. Still shaking hands.
Injuries. Still supporting his team.
Disappointment. Still moving forward.

That counts too.

And that's why I don't believe youth sports are only about winning.

I've said before that my goal was never to raise an athlete who wins everything.

Medals are nice. Championships are exciting. Personal records are worth celebrating.

But they aren't who our kids are.

One day the competitions will stop.

One day the medals will sit in a box.

One day they may not remember exactly how much their competitors lifted or who won a particular meet.

But I hope they remember what sports taught them.

How to lose without falling apart.

How to compete without disrespecting someone.

How to work hard when nobody is handing them a trophy.

How to be part of something bigger than themselves.

How to handle disappointment.

How to get back up after failure.

How to show up when things aren't going their way.

And how to keep going.

Because one day, life is going to hand them things that no coach can prepare them for and no parent can fix.

And when that happens, I want them to already know:

I've been here before.

I know how to get back up.

That's what youth sports can give our kids.

Not just stronger bodies.

Not just medals.

Not just championships.

Success. Failure. Resilience. Grit.

That's what sports teach.

And those lessons have somewhere to go long after the sport ends.

Update on Tim's Elbow

(This is not Tim)

Update on Tim's Elbow 

As you all know, Tim has been dealing with an elbow injury that has kept him from doing the sport he loves.

The last update I gave was that his orthopedic doctor had decided to take the path of physical therapy and see how things progressed. However, after consulting with the other elbow specialists on staff and discussing Tim’s case, the general consensus was that it warranted exploratory arthroscopic surgery.

The plan is to address several things while they are in there:

1. Remove the fluid that no one has been able to successfully aspirate and send it off for lab testing.
2. Remove a bone spur that is exacerbating the problem.
3. Address anything else they find that may need attention while they are in there.

So, surgery is scheduled for this Friday. He'll come home same day.

After surgery, Tim will begin post-op physical therapy with a specialist who works with this type of injury. The hope is that by taking this step now, we can get to the bottom of what is going on with his elbow, get him on the right path to healing, and ultimately get him back to the sport he loves sooner rather than later.

This injury has affected more than just his weightlifting. It has also put a halt to his ability to work alongside his dad in our family business. He hasn't been able to train, work, or simply live life the way he normally would. I know that has been frustrating for him.

So, pray. 🙏

Pray for God to guide the hands of the surgeon and that everything that needs to be addressed is addressed while they are in there. Pray for Tim’s healing to be quick and complete so that he can get back to not only training, but to simply living life.

We know healing will be a process. We know there will be recovery and work involved. But we also know that God has got Tim—and Tim knows it, too.

God has seen him through so much in his young life, and Tim trusts Him for his complete healing. So, as we head into Friday, that's where our faith is—not in the surgery itself, but in the God who is with Tim through all of it.

Please keep praying. ❤️🙏

More Than A Coach

(Coach Jarrod and Tim after he won Junior Nationals this year)

More Than A Coach 

Today we celebrate our coaches who pour so much into their athletes, helping them become the best athletes they can possibly be.

They lead. Encourage. Challenge. Believe.

But a great coach does so much more than teach an athlete how to lift, compete, or win.

They teach them how to work hard when things don't come easily. They teach them how to handle disappointment, celebrate progress, keep showing up, and believe in themselves even when they aren't sure they can.

Coach Jarrod has taught, mentored, pushed, believed in, guided, supported, inspired, developed, and encouraged Tim. And through all of that, he has made a huge difference in Tim's life.

Coaches are so much more than coaches.

Their athletes look up to them. They watch how they handle challenges. They listen to their words. They learn from their example. In many ways, coaches become someone their athletes aspire to be like—not just as an athlete, but as a person.

And being a coach in weightlifting certainly isn't an easy job. You're working with such a wide range of athletes, from kids just discovering the sport to adults who have been lifting for years. Every athlete is different. They have different goals, different personalities, different strengths, and different challenges.

A great coach learns how to meet each athlete where they are and help them move forward from there.

I've watched Coach Jarrod do that with Tim.

Tim has been so incredibly happy in the sport of weightlifting. He has found something he loves, a team he enjoys being part of, and a coach who has helped him grow—not only as a lifter, but as a person.

And then came this elbow injury.

Being sidelined is hard for an athlete who loves what he does. Tim has had to put his training on hold in ways he never expected, and I know there have been frustrating days.

But Coach Jarrod has continued to support him through it.

He's even taken the time to load weights for Tim so that, while he can't do his upper-body training right now, he can still work on maintaining and building his lower-body and core strength.

That may seem like a small thing, but to an athlete who wants to be training, it means a lot.

It says, I'm still here. We're still working. This isn't the end of your journey.

And that's what a great coach does.

They don't just coach you when you're winning medals or hitting PRs.

They coach you through the hard stuff, too.

They remind you that one injury, one missed competition, one bad lift, or one setback doesn't define you.

They help you see that there is still progress to be made, even when the path looks different than you expected.

When Tim is finally able to get back to full strength and continue the journey he's started in weightlifting, I know he'll be even more excited to get back to doing what he loves.

And I also know that he'll carry with him everything he's learned along the way.

We are so thankful for coaches who understand that the goal isn't just to create great athletes. It's to help develop great people.

So today, on Coach's Day, I want to say thank you to Coach Jarrod.

Thank you for everything you have poured into Tim.

Thank you for believing in him.

Thank you for challenging him.

Thank you for encouraging him.

Thank you for supporting him through the good days and the difficult ones.

And most of all, thank you for being the kind of coach who understands that you are making an impact far beyond the weight room.

Happy Coach's Day, Coach Jarrod! 🏋️‍♂️❤️

We are grateful for you and the difference you've made in Tim's life.

Where Is Your Faith?

(taken from an illustration from a sermon my Pastor taught)

Where Is Your Faith? 

When I saw this illustration that our Pastor shared, I knew I wanted to share it here.

It immediately made me stop and think about where my faith is placed.

The illustration says that our faith should be in three main areas:

The blood of Jesus.
The name of Jesus.
The Word of God.

The more I thought about those three things, the more I realized how beautifully they work together.

Faith in the blood of Jesus reminds me of what Jesus did for me.

Romans 3:23-25 tells us that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but that we are justified through Christ Jesus and His sacrifice.

There is nothing I could ever do to earn salvation. I cannot be good enough, work hard enough, or make myself worthy enough. My hope is in what Jesus did for me on the cross.

His blood paid a price I could never pay.

Faith in the name of Jesus reminds me of who I am trusting.

Acts 3:16 tells us that it is faith in the name of Jesus that brings healing and restoration. There is power in His name—not because the name itself is simply a word, but because of who Jesus is.

When I pray, I want my faith to be in Jesus.

When I am afraid, I want my faith to be in Jesus.

When I don't understand what God is doing, I want my faith to remain in Jesus.

And then there is faith in the Word of God.

Romans 10:17 tells us, “Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word about Christ.”

God's Word gives us something solid to stand on when everything around us feels uncertain.

Our feelings change.

Circumstances change.

People change.

Life changes.

But God's Word does not change.

There have been many seasons in my life when I didn't understand what God was doing. I couldn't see what was ahead, and sometimes I didn't even know what I was supposed to do next.

But those are the moments when I have learned that faith isn't about having all the answers.

Faith is trusting the One who does.

When I look at these three areas, I see a beautiful picture:

The blood of Jesus reminds me of what He has done.
The name of Jesus reminds me of who He is.
The Word of God reminds me of what He has said.

And those are three things I never want to forget.

My faith isn't in my circumstances.
My faith isn't in my own strength.
My faith isn't in what I can see.

My faith is in Jesus—His blood, His name, and His Word.

And when I find myself struggling to trust, perhaps the question I need to ask isn't, “Do I have enough faith?”

Maybe the better question is:

“Where have I placed my faith?”

Because when our faith is placed in the right One, we can face whatever comes knowing that God is faithful.  Always. ❤️

---

The Treasures That Fill Our Home

The Treasures That Fill Our Home

When I read these verses, I don't think about a physical house. I think about a home.

Wisdom and knowledge build a strong house. What I take that to mean is that through wisdom, understanding, and knowledge, everyone in a home has a part in making that home stronger. Everyone has a special place to fill.

A house can be beautiful. It can be filled with beautiful furniture, decorations, pictures, and things that we have collected over the years. But none of those things are what truly make a house a home.

The greatest treasures in our home are the people who fill it.

In our home, the rare and beautiful treasures that fill our rooms are our loved ones. Each person is unique and holds value that only they can hold. Each person is rare and beautiful—and I'm not talking about outward beauty.

I'm talking about the beauty that comes from within.

The kindness.
The love.
The laughter.
The wisdom.
The strength.
The compassion.
The faith.
The memories.
The experiences that have shaped each of us into who we are.

These are the things that fill a home with treasures that money could never buy.

Every person brings something different into a family. We each have different personalities, different gifts, different strengths, and even different weaknesses. And yet, God can use all of those differences to build something beautiful.

I think about our own home and how grateful I am for the people God has placed within it. The people I love are not simply occupants of our house. They are the reason it is home.

They are the treasures in the rooms.

And just as Proverbs says, a strong house doesn't happen by accident. It is built. It is established. It takes wisdom, understanding, patience, forgiveness, grace, communication, and most importantly, God.

Because homes aren't perfect.

Families aren't perfect.

People aren't perfect.

But a home built on God doesn't have to be perfect to be strong.

There will be difficult seasons. There will be disagreements. There will be misunderstandings and moments when we don't get it right. But when we allow God to be the foundation of our home, He teaches us how to love each other through those things.

He teaches us to listen when we'd rather speak, to extend grace when we'd rather hold onto hurt, to forgive when it isn't easy, and to value the person in front of us more than whatever disagreement we may be facing.

And perhaps that is part of what makes the treasures in our rooms so rare and beautiful.

They aren't valuable because they are perfect.

They are valuable because they are ours—and because God entrusted them to us.

When I look around our home, I don't want to see only what we've accumulated. I want to see what God has built.

I want the walls of our home to hold memories of laughter, conversations, celebrations, tears, prayers, hard seasons, answered prayers, and ordinary days that we didn't realize were actually some of the most precious days of our lives.

I want our home to be a place where the people inside it know they are loved, valued, safe, and accepted.

Because one day, the furniture will be old. The decorations will change. Things will break, be replaced, or eventually be gone.

But the people God has given us?

They are the treasures.

And if I have learned anything, it is that the most beautiful things in life aren't things at all.

They are people.

They are relationships.

They are memories.

They are the love we give and receive.

They are the people who walk beside us through every season.

And when God is the One building the house, He doesn't just fill its rooms with possessions.

He fills them with rare and beautiful treasures.

I pray that our home will always be a place where those treasures are recognized, cherished, protected, and loved.

Because to me, that is what makes a house a home.

Taking Every Thought Captive

Taking Every Thought Captive

Paul wrote these words as he was defending his ministry and his authority as an apostle.

In this verse, Paul tells us two ways he wages war on behalf of the gospel. First, he demolishes arguments and pretensions that set themselves up against “the knowledge of God.” Second, he takes every thought captive and makes it obedient to Christ.

Demolishing arguments and pretensions seems easy enough, doesn’t it? After all, who doesn’t like to battle over what they believe to be true? Almost no one backs down when they wholeheartedly believe in something strongly enough.

The last part is more tricky, though, isn’t it?

That’s the part that is much harder to do.

Taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.

Doing that means we have to think and live the way Christ would have us think and live. I don’t know about you, but I mess up on this a lot.

My thoughts are all over the place on any given day. Reeling them in and bringing them into obedience to Christ is not a natural thing for me to do—and I’m sure I’m not the only one.

I’m always thinking about what has been, what I’m dealing with currently, and what’s to come in the future.

None of us can see the future. We can look back at the past and know what we do and don’t want in our lives. We can look at what is happening right now and think about ways to make things better, hoping and praying for a better outcome when all is said and done.

But what if we thought about all of it through the lens of taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ?

That is something I sometimes struggle with—especially when I want to control the outcome myself.

I'm sure you understand that because you may struggle with the same thing.

I can pray about something and then, not long afterward, find myself trying to figure out how I can fix it. I can give something to God and then start taking it back with my thoughts, my worries, my plans, and my attempts to control the outcome.

Maybe that's exactly where taking our thoughts captive becomes so important.

We have to recognize the thought, hold it up against what we know about God, and then decide whether we are going to let that thought control us—or surrender it to Him.

No one ever said living our lives in obedience to Christ would be easy. It most certainly isn't.

My flesh is always fighting with my spirit in a tug-of-war, with one wanting to win out over the other. I'm thankful that, more often than not, I give way to my spirit. But sometimes it takes me realizing that I've allowed my flesh to get in the way before I finally surrender that thought, that worry, that fear, or that desire for control back to God.

And I'm just glad that Christ wins out in the end.

Maybe that's what I need to remind myself of more often:

I don't have to win every battle in my mind. I just have to surrender every thought to the One who has already won the greatest battle.

Walking with Him is what truly matters.

Giving my thoughts to Him makes all the difference—not only for me, but for my family and the way I live my life.

Will things always go the way I think they should? No. We are living in a fallen world, and difficult things will happen. Disappointments will come. Plans will change. Some things will hurt.

But I know Who is with me.

I know Who holds my past, my present, and my future.

I know Who sees what I cannot see.

And I know that when I surrender my thoughts to Him, I don't have to carry the weight of figuring everything out on my own.

“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”

That's more than just a verse to read.

It's a way to live.

And for me, it's a daily reminder that when my mind starts running ahead, behind, or in a hundred different directions, I can stop, take that thought captive, and bring it back to Christ.

Because my thoughts may not always be under control—but they can always be surrendered to the One who is.

Esteeming Others

(image is from Dollywood's social media page)

Esteeming Others

God has brought this verse to my attention several times this year and it has been making me stop and think about my own heart.

I think most of us would say we don't want to be selfish or prideful. I certainly don't. But if I'm being honest, I can still find myself making life about me without even realizing it.

How am I being treated?
Do they appreciate me?
Do they understand me?
What about what I need?
What about what I want?

And sometimes those questions aren't wrong. We all have needs, boundaries, and things that matter. But this verse reminds me that following Christ means I can't make myself the center of everything.

Paul tells us, “Let each esteem others better than himself.”

That doesn't mean I have to believe that I'm less valuable than everyone else. It doesn't mean I have to ignore my own needs or allow people to mistreat me. I don't believe God calls us to live that way.

To me, it means choosing to look beyond myself.

Choosing to notice someone else's needs.

Choosing to listen instead of always needing to be heard.

Choosing to celebrate someone else's accomplishments without feeling like they take anything away from my own.

Choosing to serve when I could be served.

Choosing to love when it would be easier to walk away.

And maybe most importantly, choosing to remember that my worth doesn't depend on being better than someone else.

I don't have to compete for my value.

I don't have to prove that I'm important.

I don't have to be the smartest person in the room, have the last word, or receive recognition for everything I do.

Because my identity is found in Christ.

And when I truly understand that, it becomes easier to lift someone else up.

Looking to Jesus

What makes this verse even more powerful to me is what Paul says next.

He doesn't simply tell us to be humble. He points us to Jesus.

Philippians 2:5 says:

“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.”

Jesus had every reason to be exalted, yet He willingly humbled Himself and became a servant.

The King became a servant.

The One who deserved glory chose sacrifice.

And He did it for us.

That puts my own little moments of pride into perspective.

If Jesus could humble Himself for the sake of others, how can I refuse to humble myself when God gives me the opportunity to love, serve, encourage, or put someone else first?

I know I won't get this right every time. I am still learning. God is still working on my heart, and I am grateful that He doesn't expect me to arrive at perfection before He can use me.

Sometimes humility looks like saying, “I was wrong.”

Sometimes it looks like letting something go.

Sometimes it means celebrating someone else's victory.

Sometimes it means listening instead of defending myself.

Sometimes it means putting someone else's needs ahead of my own.

And sometimes it simply means asking God to help me see people the way He sees them.

A Different Way to Live

The world often teaches us to look out for number one.

Build yourself up.

Make sure you're recognized.

Get ahead.

Protect your position.

Make sure everyone knows what you've accomplished.

But Jesus shows us another way.

Serve.
Love.
Give.
Encourage.
Forgive.
Lift others up.
Put others first.

That doesn't make us weak.

It makes us more like Him.

And I think that's what Philippians 2:3 is really asking of me—not to think less of myself, but to stop making myself the center of the story.

Because when my eyes are fixed on Jesus, I have less need to prove myself.

I can celebrate someone else's blessings.

I can cheer someone else on.

I can extend grace.

I can serve without needing recognition.

I can love without keeping score.

And I can remember that there is plenty of room in God's kingdom for someone else to shine without making my own light any dimmer.

Lord, give me the heart of Jesus.

Help me lay down selfish ambition and pride. Help me see others through Your eyes. Help me to listen more, serve more, encourage more, and love more.

And when I'm tempted to make everything about me, remind me that it was never about me in the first place.

It has always been about You.

“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.”

That is the heart I want.

Not a heart that asks, “What can I get?”

But a heart that asks,

“How can I love?”

“How can I serve?”

“How can I bless someone today?”

Because that is the kind of heart that looks a little more like Jesus.

An Undivided Heart

An Undivided Heart

I have read this verse many times, but recently the words “give me an undivided heart” have really stayed with me.

There is something powerful about knowing the circumstances surrounding this prayer.

Psalm 86 is a prayer of David. We aren't told exactly what situation prompted him to write it, but we know he was in distress. He describes himself as poor and needy and speaks of arrogant and ruthless people coming against him. He was asking God for help, protection, mercy, strength, and comfort.

And yet, in the middle of all of that, David says:

“Teach me your way, LORD.”

Not just change my circumstances.

Not just make this easier.

Not just tell me when this is going to end.

Teach me Your way.

That really makes me stop and think.

Because if I'm being honest, there have been plenty of times in my life when my prayer has been more about asking God to change what is happening around me than asking Him to change what is happening inside of me.

I want answers.

I want clarity.

I want to know what is coming next.

I want to know how everything is going to work out.

And sometimes I want God to show me the destination when He is simply asking me to trust Him with the next step.

But David's prayer goes even deeper.

“Give me an undivided heart.”

The NKJV says, “Unite my heart to fear Your name.” The idea is a heart that is made whole or single-minded in its devotion to God.

An undivided heart.

What would that look like in my life?

It would mean trusting God when I understand what He is doing and when I don't.

It would mean believing He is faithful when I can see His hand and when I can't.

It would mean not allowing fear, worry, disappointment, circumstances, or my own desire to control things to pull my heart away from Him.

Because isn't that what happens so easily?

We can love God and still worry.

We can trust God and still try to control everything.

We can believe God is faithful and still wonder, “But what if this doesn't turn out the way I hope?”

We can have one part of our heart saying, “God, I trust You,” while another part is quietly saying, “But I need to figure this out myself.”

Maybe that's why David's prayer resonates with me so much.

He wasn't praying this from a place where everything was perfect.

He was praying it in the middle of trouble.

And perhaps that is when an undivided heart matters most.

It is easy to praise God when everything is going the way we hoped.

It is much harder—and perhaps much more meaningful—to say:

“Lord, I don't understand this, but teach me Your way.”

“Lord, I don't know what comes next, but help me rely on Your faithfulness.”

“Lord, my heart is being pulled in a hundred different directions, so unite my heart and keep it focused on You.”

I think about how many times God has already proven Himself faithful in my own life.

Looking back, I can see things I couldn't see while I was living through them.

I can see prayers that weren't answered the way I thought they would be, but were answered in ways I didn't yet understand.

I can see places where I thought God was absent, only to realize later that He was protecting me, redirecting me, growing me, or preparing something I couldn't see.

And I can look at where I am today and know that God's faithfulness was never dependent upon my ability to understand His plan.

He was faithful then.

He is faithful now.

And He will be faithful in whatever comes next.

That's why I think this verse is more than simply a beautiful Scripture.

It is a prayer I want to pray over my own life:

Lord, teach me Your way.

Not my way.

Not the way that feels easiest.

Not the way that gives me the answers I want right now.

Your way.

Teach me to rely on Your faithfulness rather than my own understanding.

And when my heart becomes divided between faith and fear, control and surrender, what I want and what You are doing...

unite my heart.

Bring me back to You.

Remind me who You are.

Remind me of everything You have already brought me through.

Remind me that I don't have to know what tomorrow holds when I know Who holds tomorrow.

And may I be able to say, just as David did, that I will praise You “with my whole heart.”

Because at the end of the day, that's what I want.

Not simply a life where everything goes according to my plan.

But a heart that belongs completely to God.

An undivided heart.

A heart that trusts.

A heart that listens.

A heart that follows.

A heart that remembers.

And above all...

a heart that is fully His.

Lord, teach me Your way.

Tim's Elbow Update

                   

Tim's Elbow Update

We went with Tim to see Ortho today to discuss his elbow, the plan of action, and the next steps toward getting him back to competing.

The doctor we saw was, by far, the best we've seen so far. He was extremely informative and took the time to explain what he believes is going on and what he feels we need to do moving forward.

In a nutshell, Tim will be spending the next six weeks working with a physical therapist who specializes in the type of elbow injury he has. Apparently, this is something they see quite often in baseball players.

The doctor believes Tim has a sprained UCL, with the possibility of a tear that may or may not require surgery down the road. He also believes Tim has a bone spur that is further complicating things.

The next six weeks of specialized PT will help us better understand just how serious the injury is. If PT helps and Tim responds well, he could potentially get back to lifting sooner rather than later. If it doesn't improve the issue, we could be looking at surgery to address the bone spur as well as the UCL.

One thing we really appreciated about this doctor is that he doesn't just jump to surgery. He explained that, more often than not, a good PT specialist can get elite athletes back to their sport without further intervention. And if Tim does ultimately require surgery, it will mean a longer healing process, but he should still be able to get back to his sport.

So, at least as of right now, this isn't a “you'll never lift again” scenario. It's a “when will you be able to lift again?” scenario. And we'll take that.

Tim has been beyond frustrated through all of this, but he knows this is something that has to happen in order for his elbow to heal properly. He's taking it in stride and is willing to do whatever it takes to get better. He just wants answers, wants to heal, and wants to get back to doing what he loves.

And that's where we come in.

We're going to continue being there for him, supporting him and helping him keep his head on straight as he jumps through all of these hoops he has to go through in order to move forward.

It's not the road he wanted to be on, but it's the road he's on right now.

So we'll take it one step at a time, trust the process, and keep moving forward because Tim loves Olympic weightlifting—and he's not ready to give that up. 

Keep praying in agreement with us for his complete healing as he does all that ortho and the physical therapist advise him to do.