TRUST IN THE LORD FOREVER

Everything about faith in God is about TRUST.

God has never, ever done anything to lose our trust in Him.

We, however, do so many things that lose others’ trust in us. We are all guilty of it at one time or another. We say things we don't mean. We make promises we don't keep. We make mistakes. We disappoint people. Sometimes, even when we have the best intentions, we fail.

But God doesn't.

He has never failed us. He has never broken a promise. He has never changed His mind about loving us. He has never stopped being faithful.

That is why I love this verse.

It doesn't simply tell us to trust God for a little while. It says to “trust in the Lord forever.”

Why?

Because “the Lord God is an everlasting rock.”

A rock is something solid. Something firm. Something that doesn't move when everything around it does.

And that's who God is.

When our circumstances change, He doesn't.
When people disappoint us, He doesn't.
When our plans fall apart, He remains faithful.
When we don't understand what He's doing, He is still good.
When we feel uncertain about tomorrow, He is already there.

God is not asking us to put our trust in something temporary or unstable. He is asking us to put our trust in Him—the everlasting Rock.

So why do we make it so hard?

I think sometimes it's because we confuse trusting God with understanding God.

We want to know how everything is going to work out before we're willing to trust Him.

We want the answer before we trust the One who has the answer.

We want to see the path before we're willing to take the next step.

But that's not really trust, is it?

Trust says, “God, I don't understand this, but I know You.”

Trust says, “I can't see what is ahead, but I know the One who can.”

Trust says, “I don't know how this is going to work out, but I know You are faithful.”

And maybe that's where faith becomes real—not when everything makes sense, but when it doesn't.

It's easy to trust God when the bills are paid, the diagnosis is good, the relationship is healthy, the plans are working, and life feels secure.

But what happens when the ground beneath us starts to shake?

That's when we discover what—or Who—we've really been standing on.

The beautiful thing about an everlasting Rock is that He doesn't move just because our circumstances do.

We may move.

Our emotions may move.

Our confidence may move.

Our circumstances may move.

But God remains.

So today, maybe the question isn't “Can I trust God?”

The question is:

“Will I choose to trust Him?”

Not just when I understand.

Not just when I can see the outcome.

Not just when life is going the way I want it to.

But forever.

Because He is worthy of our trust.

He has always been faithful.

And He will always be our everlasting Rock.

God Is My Refuge

The amplified bible says,

"God is our refuge and strength [mighty and impenetrable], A very present and well-proved help in trouble."

There have been so many moments in my life when I realized just how much I needed a refuge.

Not a place. Not an escape. Not someone who can fix everything.

I needed God.

Life can bring circumstances that leave us feeling overwhelmed, uncertain, exhausted, or even afraid. Sometimes we don't know what the next step is or how everything is going to work out. We may not have the answers, but we can know where to turn.

God is our refuge.

A refuge is a place of safety—a place we can run to when the storms of life come. And I love that this verse doesn't say God might be our refuge or that He will become our refuge when everything falls apart.

It says He is our refuge.

He is also our strength.

There are times when we simply don't have the strength within ourselves to carry what we're carrying. And maybe that's exactly where God wants us—to recognize that our strength was never meant to come from us alone.

When I'm weak, He is strong.

When I'm afraid, He is my peace.

When I don't understand, He is still faithful.

When I don't know what to do, I can run to Him.

And perhaps one of the most comforting parts of this verse is those three little words:

“Ever-present help.”

God isn't distant. He isn't too busy. He isn't waiting for us to get everything together before we come to Him.

He is present.

Right in the middle of the trouble.

Right in the middle of the uncertainty.

Right in the middle of the storm.

I know this because I've lived it.

Back in 1994—I know, I'm dating myself here—I needed His refuge and strength more than anything.

But I didn't feel like I deserved it.

I felt like I had messed up too much in life. Because of the things I had endured growing up, I saw myself as damaged goods. I didn't believe I was worthy of God's refuge. I didn't believe I deserved His strength.

But God had a very different view of me.

And looking back now, I can see that Psalm 46:1 wasn't just a verse to read. It was a promise I desperately needed to learn how to live.

I had so many things to work through, and God led me to the right place at the right time to get the help I so desperately needed. What happened during that season of my life was so life-altering. It rocked my world—in the best possible way.

It was there that I began to truly understand what it meant for God to be my refuge and my strength.

I learned that He was my safe place.

I learned that I didn't have to have everything figured out before I could run to Him.

I learned that He was an ever-present help—not just when life was easy, but especially when it wasn't.

And perhaps most importantly, I learned that God had been there all along.

He was there through the things I experienced growing up.

He was there in the moments when I felt alone.

He was there when I didn't understand what was happening or why I was going through it.

He was there even when I didn't know Him the way I know Him today.

Because God isn't limited by the moment we finally recognize Him.

He already knows our story.

He knew what we would walk through before we ever walked through it.

He knew the wounds we would carry.

He knew the places where we would struggle.

He knew the moment we would finally turn toward Him and place our faith in Him.

And He knew the moment we would finally allow Him to become our refuge and strength.

He wasn't waiting for me to become worthy.

He was waiting for me to come.

And when I did, He was right there—ready and willing to meet me.

That's what makes this verse so personal to me.

I don't just believe that God can be a refuge.

I know He is.

I don't just believe that He can give us strength.

I know He does.

And I don't just believe that He is present when we need Him.

I know He has been present all along.

We may not always understand what God is doing, and we may not know how our story will unfold. But we can rest in knowing who is with us while it unfolds.

Whatever you're facing today, you don't have to carry it alone.

Run to your Refuge.

Lean on your Strength.

Trust the One who has been there all along.

“God is our refuge and strength [mighty and impenetrable], A very present and well-proved help in trouble.”

And if He could meet me there in 1994, He can meet you wherever you are today.

The Word Became Flesh

This verse is one of the most powerful verses in all of Scripture.

Read it again slowly:

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

The Word didn't simply appear to be human. He didn't temporarily take on the appearance of flesh. The Word became flesh.

Jesus—the eternal Word of God—stepped into His creation. He came into the world He created and made His dwelling among us.

And that word dwelt is significant. The Greek word used here carries the idea of tabernacling or pitching a tent among us. In the Greek Old Testament, this same language is associated with the tabernacle—the place where God's presence dwelt among His people.

Think about that for a moment.

The glory of God, which had once been associated with the tabernacle, was now being revealed in tangible human form through Christ.

God came near.

Take a moment and really allow that to sink in.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

That should mean everything to us as Christians.

He loved us so much that He came to us.

He wanted a relationship with us so much that He willingly stepped into humanity. He humbled Himself, lived among us, walked among us, taught us, loved us, suffered for us, and ultimately gave His life on the cross to make a way for us to be reconciled to God.

He came so that we could come home.

And ultimately, He came so that we could spend eternity with Him.

Eternity with God.

That should mean everything to us.

But does it?

I can't help but think about how much our world has changed.

When my parents were growing up, Sundays looked very different. Sunday was largely considered a day of rest. Stores were closed. Businesses were closed. Families went to church. Communities gathered together. After church, there might be a potluck lunch or a picnic where people simply spent time together.

There was a rhythm to life.

There was a recognition that some things were more important than getting everything done.

Even when I was growing up, Sundays still felt different. Things had already begun to change, and more people were choosing to stay home rather than go to church, but there was still a sense that Sunday was a day set apart.

As the years went by, though, the changes continued.

More busyness.

More chaos.

More things demanding our attention.

Sunday gradually became another day to shop, clean the house, mow the lawn, run errands, prepare for the week ahead and check off everything on the never-ending list of things that need to be done.

And somewhere along the way, we lost the rhythm of stopping.

Now, I don't believe the point of John 1:14 is that we need to bring back the way Sundays used to look.

The point is much deeper than that.

Do we still recognize the significance of what God has done for us?

Do we still stand in awe that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us?

Do we still understand that the Bible isn't simply another book sitting on a shelf?

Because if we truly believe that this is the living, powerful Word of God, then it should affect us.

It should slow us down.

It should make us stop and listen.

It should change what we prioritize.

It should change how we spend our time.

It should change what we pursue.

It should change how we love.

It should change how we live.

The problem isn't simply that Sundays have become busier.

Our lives have become busier.

We've filled our days with so much noise that sometimes we don't have room to hear God.

We've filled our schedules with so much activity that we don't stop long enough to consider eternity.

We've accumulated so much stuff that we can forget that none of it is coming with us.

And perhaps most heartbreaking of all, we can become so familiar with the words of Scripture that we forget just how extraordinary they are.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

That isn't just a sentence in a book.

That is the story of God's love for us.

The Creator entered His creation.

God came near.

Jesus came to dwell among us, full of grace and truth.

He came knowing exactly what it would cost Him.

He came knowing He would be rejected.

He came knowing He would suffer.

He came knowing He would go to the cross.

And He came anyway.

For us.

So maybe what we need isn't simply a return to quieter Sundays.

Maybe what we need is a return to wonder.

A return to recognizing that God is worthy of our attention.

A return to making room for His Word.

A return to slowing down long enough to hear His voice.

A return to remembering that this life is not all there is.

Because the Word became flesh.

He dwelt among us.

We have seen His glory.

And because of what Jesus did for us, eternity with Him is possible.

That should mean everything.

May we never become so busy that we forget to stop and marvel at the fact that God came near.

SET YOUR HEARTS ON THINGS ABOVE

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.”
— Colossians 3:1

The beginning of this verse says, “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ,” and then it tells us to “set your hearts on things above,” where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.

This verse as a whole takes on so much meaning.

Being raised with Christ emphasizes the new status of believers, which also requires a new life. That new life gets underway as Christians set their hearts on—or seek—things above.

Since, as believers, we are in Christ, we already belong to the world above, where He is. As such, every thought, aim, value, aspiration, and striving should come under His lordship.

I know that’s a mouthful and a lot to process.

But I want to focus on the “set your hearts on things above” part.

Setting our hearts and minds on things above is no easy task, especially in the world we’re living in today. There is so much chaos, noise, busyness, and distraction competing for our attention and pulling us away from a life that is lived for God.

I don’t know about you, but there are so many things that need doing throughout my day that sometimes the time I want to spend setting my heart on things above gets pushed to the wayside.

Not because I don’t love God—I do.

Not because He doesn’t cross my mind throughout the day—He does.

But because life is messy. Life is busy. And there always seems to be something that needs to be done.

As my mom gets older and has things that need my attention, I’ve found myself going from one busy season of life into another. I’ve heard myself say, “There just aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done that I want to get done.”

And maybe you’ve said the same thing.

But I’ve realized something: if I don’t intentionally make time for God, something else will always fill that time.

For the longest time, I ended my day with God. I would read Scripture, do Bible studies, or read Christian living books before going to bed.

And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with spending time with God at the end of the day. But I found that it wasn’t working for me.

By the time the day was over, I was tired. My mind was full. And sometimes the very thing I wanted to give my best attention to was getting whatever was left of me.

So I decided to switch things up.

Instead of ending my day with God, I started my day with God.

And honestly?

Starting your day with God is where it’s at.

There is something about seeking Him before the demands of the day begin. Before the phone starts ringing. Before the to-do list takes over. Before life starts happening.

Setting my heart and mind on Him first thing in the morning helps me focus the rest of my day where it needs to be.

Now, I’ll be honest.

This has been a battle for me because those who know me well know that I am NOT a morning person.

I love my sleep.

I used to think people who got up early to spend time with God were nuts. I valued my sleep far too much to voluntarily get up earlier than I needed to.

I now realize I was the nutty one.

They knew something I didn’t.

They understood that there is something powerful about giving God the first part of your day—not because He needs our mornings, but because we need Him.

For nearly 20 years now, I’ve done my best to set aside time to spend in God’s Word at the start of my day. Sometimes that means listening to Scripture through the Bible app. Sometimes it means sitting down with my physical Bible and actually reading the words on the page.

And lately, I’ve found myself really enjoying watching sermons from ministers I follow. I love being able to pause when I need to, look up a Scripture, take notes, and really sit with what is being taught.

Maybe it’s because I’m a little slower these days.

Or maybe I just need more time to process things.

Either way, I’ve realized that I learn better when I can stop, look up the Scripture, write something down, and really let it sink in.

Which brings me to something else I miss.

I miss the days when a preacher would say, “Turn with me in your Bibles to…” and then actually wait while everyone found the passage.

I miss hearing the sound of Bible pages turning throughout the church.

There was just something about it.

There was something about everyone opening their Bibles together, finding the passage, and then settling in to hear what God had to say through His Word.

And maybe that’s part of what “set your hearts on things above” looks like for me in this season of life.

It’s not about having a perfect quiet time.

It’s not about checking a box.

It’s not about how early I get up or how many chapters I read.

It’s about intentionally turning my heart toward Him.

Because the world is going to compete for my attention all day long.

There will always be a to-do list.

There will always be responsibilities.

There will always be someone who needs something.

There will always be something that feels urgent.

But not everything that demands my attention deserves my heart.

My heart belongs to Christ.

And if I want to live a life that reflects that truth, I have to intentionally set my heart on things above.

So maybe today, before you dive into everything that needs to be done, stop for a moment.

Open your Bible.

Listen to Scripture.

Pray.

Sit quietly with God.

Give Him the first part of your day—even if it’s only a few minutes.

Because when we set our hearts on things above, we begin to see the things happening around us from a different perspective.

The chaos doesn't disappear.

The responsibilities don't disappear.

The problems don't necessarily disappear.

But we are reminded of Who is above it all.

And that can change everything.

Set your heart on things above.

Not tomorrow.

Not when life slows down.

Not when you finally have more time.

Today.

Less Stuff. More Life!

It’s amazing just how much stuff we accumulate over the years.

My husband and I got married in our late 30s. By that time, we had already lived a lot of life and collected a lot of our own stuff. Then we brought those two lives—and all that stuff—together under one roof.

Recently, after losing both of Scot’s parents, we’ve realized just how much stuff can clutter your life and, ultimately, leave behind a huge mess for your loved ones to deal with.

It’s been over a year since Nan passed, and we’re still working on getting things done at his parents’ home so we can put it up for sale and settle the estate. Of course, we have our own lives to live, so we’re trying to deal with everything there whenever we can find the time.

But going through their home has really made me take a closer look at our own.

How much stuff do we actually have?

How much of it do we really need?

And more importantly, what are we leaving behind for our son to deal with someday?

That last question really hit home for us.

We don’t want to leave Tim with a house full of things that he has to spend months—or even years—sorting through, deciding what to throw away, what to sell, and what to donate. We don’t want our stuff to become his burden.

So, we’ve started sifting through our own home and getting rid of things.

Some things get thrown away. Some things get donated. Some things get sold. And sometimes we simply stand there holding something and ask ourselves, “Do we really need to keep this?”

More often than not, the answer is no.

I’ve heard it said that a cluttered home can lead to a cluttered mind, and I can definitely relate to that. Personally, I have a hard time concentrating and feeling settled when my surroundings are cluttered. And honestly, I have so many other things I’d rather be doing with my time (like blogging for instance), than constantly moving, organizing, and decluttering the same stuff over and over again.

That’s why we’re embracing a new mentality:

Less Stuff. More Life.

We want less stress.

We want to reclaim space in our home.

We want to be able to enjoy the spaces we live in instead of constantly feeling like we need to organize them.

And most importantly, we want to make more room for what matters most—our family, our friends, and the life God has given us.

Life has certainly never been boring for us. Raising a very active son kept us incredibly busy for many years, and there were plenty of things that simply got pushed to the side because life was happening.

Now that Tim is grown, we find ourselves in a different season of life. We have the opportunity to focus on some of those things we let go by the wayside—including our stuff.

So, little by little, we’re going through our home.

We organize.

We sell.

We donate.

We throw away.

And then we do it again.

Because the funny thing about decluttering is that once you start, you begin to see even more things you don't need.

Our goal isn't to have an empty house or to get rid of everything we own. We simply want to be more intentional about what we choose to keep.

We want a home that feels peaceful instead of overwhelming.

A home that has room to breathe.

A home where the things we own serve a purpose instead of taking up space just because we’ve always had them.

And eventually, I believe we’ll get there.

We’ll have our home the way we want it—less cluttered, more organized, and filled with the things that truly matter.

Because in the end, it’s not really about having less stuff. It’s about making room for more life.

And I, for one, am really looking forward to a home that is less in stuff but more in life❤️.

Kindness Is Not Compromise

“Kindness is not an endorsement of a behavior.

Kindness is an invitation for people to enter into the goodness of God.”

— Lisa Bevere

I recently came across this quote from Lisa Bevere, and it stopped me because there is so much truth in it.

Kindness is not compromise.

Somewhere along the way, we have confused kindness with agreement. We have confused gentleness with weakness, silence with love, and standing for truth with being harsh.

But those things are not the same.

You can be kind to someone without agreeing with everything they believe, everything they say, or everything they do. You can love someone deeply without celebrating choices that you believe are wrong. And you can stand firmly on what you believe is true without treating the person who disagrees with you as though they have no value.

Jesus showed us how to do this.

Jesus never watered down truth simply to make people comfortable. He never changed what was right because someone might be offended by it. Yet He also never withheld compassion simply to prove a point.

He spoke truth, but He did it with love.

He confronted sin, but He still saw the person.

He challenged people, but He also invited them.

That distinction is important.

Kindness does not mean saying, “Everything you are doing is okay.”

Sometimes kindness means being willing to tell someone the truth because you care enough not to simply stand by and watch them walk toward destruction.

But there is a difference between speaking truth because we love someone and speaking truth because we want to win an argument.

One points toward redemption.

The other points toward ourselves.

We have to be careful that our desire to defend what is right doesn't cause us to forget the heart of the One who is right.

It is possible to be so focused on being right that we become completely wrong in the way we treat people.

And that is where I believe kindness becomes so powerful.

Kindness is not weakness.

Kindness is not approval.

Kindness is not ignoring sin.

Kindness is not pretending that wrong is right.

Kindness is reflecting the character of God in the middle of it.

You do not have to celebrate what is broken to love the person standing in front of you.

You do not have to compromise your convictions to show compassion.

And you do not have to become harsh in order to stand for what you believe is right.

There are times when silence is not kindness. There are times when avoiding a difficult conversation isn't loving at all. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is speak the truth—but how we speak that truth matters.

Are we speaking it with humility?

Are we speaking it with compassion?

Are we speaking it because we genuinely want someone to experience the goodness of God?

Or are we speaking because we want to make sure they know that we are right?

Those are very different motivations.

The world doesn't need more Christians who are willing to shout truth while forgetting love.

And it doesn't need Christians who are so afraid of offending someone that they refuse to speak truth at all.

We need both.

We need the courage to stand for truth and the humility to do it with grace.

We need to be bold enough to speak truth, soft enough to reflect His heart, and strong enough to do both at the same time.

Because kindness is an invitation.

An invitation to something higher.

An invitation to healing.

An invitation to restoration.

An invitation to experience the goodness of God.

And maybe that is one of the greatest ways we can reflect Jesus—not by compromising truth and not by using truth as a weapon, but by allowing His truth and His love to work together through us.

Truth without love can wound.
Love without truth can mislead.
But truth spoken through love can lead someone toward redemption.

That is the kind of kindness I want to practice.

Not a kindness that compromises.

Not a kindness that simply keeps the peace.

But a kindness that reflects Jesus.

To My Athlete

I hope someday you understand just how much I want you to know this—not just as your mom, but as someone who has had the privilege of watching you grow, work, struggle, overcome, succeed, and become the young man you are today. 

I know that I don't say these things to you enough.

As your mom, I spend a lot of time talking about the next goal, the next competition, the next lift, the next thing that needs to be done. We talk about numbers and training and injuries and what comes next.

And sometimes, in all of that, I probably don't say the most important thing nearly enough:

I am proud of you.

Not because of what you can lift.

Not because of the medals or the trophies.

Not because of the PRs or the competitions you've won.

Not because of what you might accomplish someday.

I was proud of you before any of it began.

Before you ever walked into a dojang or a gym.

Before you ever stepped onto a TKD mat or touched a barbell.

Before you ever knew what a PR was.

Before anyone knew what you were capable of.

You were my son, and I was already proud of you.

I love watching you pursue something you are passionate about. I love watching you work hard and discover what you're capable of. I love seeing the discipline, determination, and dedication you've developed through this journey.

And yes, I am incredibly proud of the athlete you've become.

But I want you to understand something even more important: 

Your accomplishments are something you do. They are not who you are.

There will be day when you win, and there will be days when you don't.

There will be days when the weight moves easily and day when it doesn't.

There will be seasons when your body allows you to do everything you want to do and seasons when an injury forces you to slow down.

There will be moments when you surprise yourself with how strong you are and moments when you question whether you're strong enough.

Through it all, I hope you remember:

You never have to prove yourself to me.

You never have to put a certain number on the bar to make me proud.

You never have to win a competition to make me love watching you do what you love.

And you certainly never have to be perfect.

I believe God gave you an incredible athletic ability for a reason. I don't know exactly where He will take you with that gift, but I believe there is purpose in it. Maybe the purpose will be found in the competitions you win. Maybe it will be found in the people you encourage along the way. Maybe it will shape you for something completely different that God has planned for your future.

Whatever He has for you, I pray you never lose sight of the fact that your worth was never found in your performance.

You get to enjoy this.

You get to chase big goals.

You get to work hard and see what you're capable of.

You get to stand on a platform and give everything you've got.

And you get to enjoy the incredible feeling of accomplishing something you once thought might be impossible.

But you don't have to accomplish those things to be worthy of the joy.

You are already worthy.

So lift the weight. 

Chase the goal.

Dream bigger.

Work hard.

Celebrate the victories.

Learn from the disappointments.

Get back up when life knocks you down.

And when you stand on that platform, I hope you can look out into the crowd and know that your mom isn't sitting there thinking about what you have to prove.

She's sitting there thinking, "That's my boy."

And whether you are holding a medal or walking away without one, whether you're setting a record or simply doing your best, whether you're sitting on the sidelines because your body needs time to heal...

I'll still be thinking the same thing.

"That's my boy."

Because I was proud of you before any of it began.

And I will be proud of you long after it ends.

I love you, Tim.

Never forget that.

R.I.P. Dolly

I wanted to take the time to give honor where honor is due in this blog post.

Yesterday, we lost an icon. They say she had been battling cancer. To say that I hate cancer is an understatement. It has taken so many lives—some I've known personally and some I haven't. Regardless, it is a disease that needs a cure.

Growing up, this woman was such a powerful force for women everywhere. She made it in an industry that, at the time, was overwhelmingly male-dominated. Being a woman in country music wasn't for the faint of heart, and Dolly was by no means someone who would take no for an answer. If someone told her she couldn't do something, she proved them wrong every...single...time!

She was someone I looked up to and admired greatly. I grew up listening to her music and watching her movies. Everyone knew who Dolly was and loved her—even people who weren't particularly country music fans. You just couldn't help but love her.

I remember our very first visit to Dollywood when Tim was 7 years old. What stood out to me wasn't just the park itself, but the way Dolly treated families of those who had served in our military. My husband's parents were able to get five tickets for a fraction of what it would have cost at a place like Disney. Dolly made sure that military families were treated with generosity and appreciation. That meant something to me. It showed me that her heart for people wasn't just something we saw on television or heard in interviews. She found ways to give back and to honor those who had sacrificed for others.

(This was taken in her RV at Dollywood)

There was something so genuine about Dolly. She seemed to love people, encourage people, and bring joy wherever she went. I can't remember a time when I saw her in public and she wasn't smiling or lifting someone else up.

Losing her husband after nearly 60 years together was heartbreaking. When you spend that many years of your life loving someone, a piece of your heart goes with them when they're gone. I thought of that when I heard of her passing. My husband's parents had been together for just as long, if not longer, when they passed away just a little over a year apart from one another. I remember thinking about how deeply intertwined two lives become after so many decades together.

Dolly Parton will forever remain one of my heroes—not simply because of her incredible career, but because of the woman she chose to be throughout it. She broke barriers, opened doors, encouraged generations of women, and used her success to make a difference in the lives of others.

Dolly left her fingerprint on my heart, just as she did on the hearts of so many others.

She will never be forgotten.

There will never be another Dolly.

(I made the concept—AI helped sharpen it up)

The Journey Behind the Lift

Tim's plans are to lift at this year’s State Championships—prayerfully🙏. A lot will depend on how his elbow responds to rehab between now and then, but he’s signed up regardless.

Before Tim went to Nationals, he had already started having some issues with his elbow. We thought we had gotten everything lined out with his body guy, but once he returned home and got back into training, the problem got worse.

I shared a little about what was going on in an earlier blog post. If you missed it, you can read it here: When Strength Looks Different.

Thankfully, rehab is going well. Just not quite as quickly as Tim would like😊.

The next step is getting an MRI scheduled while he continues working with PT. At this point, Tim wants to know exactly what he’s dealing with—and quite frankly, so do we. Having some answers would help us understand what’s going on and what the best path forward looks like.

For now, Tim is hoping and praying that his elbow will allow him to compete. If he does get to lift, he’ll be taking a very conservative approach with his numbers. As much as he wants to compete, he doesn’t want to push things and cause further injury.

For someone who loves to lift and compete as much as Tim does, being patient through an injury is not easy. But sometimes strength looks different.

Right now, strength looks like showing up for rehab, being patient, listening to his body, and trusting God with the outcome.

God has blessed Tim with an amazing athletic ability, and we don't believe that gift is an accident. We believe God has a purpose for Tim's life, and we believe that purpose includes this athletic journey he is on. We don't know exactly where God is going to take him through it, but we know that God does have a purpose and plan.

Maybe this season is about competing. Maybe it's about learning patience. Maybe it's about perseverance. Maybe it's about something we can't see yet. Whatever it is, we want Tim to remember that his identity and purpose are bigger than a platform, a PR, or a championship.

We're praying for total healing, answers, and the opportunity for Tim to step onto that platform at State Championships for his 4th straight time. 

Whatever happens, though, we trust that God is using this journey Tim's on for something bigger than we can see right now💪🙏. 

(picture taken from MTYC's social media page)

Exceedingly, Abundantly Above All We Ask or Think

This is one of those Scriptures that I could read over and over again and still find something new in it.

Paul ends this portion of his letter with a doxology—a declaration of praise to God. And what a declaration it is.

He reminds us that God is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.

Think about that for a minute.

Not just what we ask.

Not just what we hope for.

Not just what we can imagine.

Above all that we ask or think.

Our prayers are limited by what we know. Our expectations are limited by what we've experienced. Even our imaginations have limits. We tend to look at a situation and try to figure out how God could possibly change it based on what we can see right now.

But God isn't limited by what we can see.

He isn't limited by our circumstances.

He isn't limited by our understanding.

And He certainly isn't limited by our imagination.

God's ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts. Sometimes we look at a situation and see a dead end while God sees a doorway. We see something that seems impossible while God sees an opportunity to show us just how powerful He is.

And I think that's part of what makes this verse so powerful.

God is already at work even when we can't see what He is doing.

That doesn't mean God will always answer our prayers the way we want Him to. I've learned that sometimes His answer is different from what I expected, and sometimes His timing is very different from mine.

But that doesn't mean He isn't working.

Sometimes God is working in the situation.

Sometimes He's working in the people around us.

And sometimes, if we're being honest, He's working in us.

That's what Paul means when he says, "according to the power that works in us."

God doesn't just want to change what's happening around us. He wants to transform what's happening within us. He wants to grow our faith, strengthen our trust, change our perspective and teach us to depend on Him.

There have been plenty of times in my life when I didn't understand what God was doing. I've prayed for things that didn't happen the way I thought they would. I've wondered why certain doors closed and why certain seasons lasted as long as they did.

But looking back, I can see things I couldn't see while I was walking through them.

I can see where God was protecting me.

I can see where He was redirecting me.

I can see where He was growing me.

And I can see that what I thought was the end of something was sometimes the beginning of something I couldn't have imagined.

That's why this verse is such a reminder to me to trust God with the things I cannot figure out.

I don't have to know how He's going to do it.

I don't have to know when He's going to do it.

I don't even have to understand what He's doing.

I just have to remember who He is.

He is able.

He is able when I am not.

He is able when the situation looks impossible.

He is able when I don't see a way forward.

He is able when my plans don't work out.

He is able when my faith feels small.

And He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that I ask or think.

What if we actually lived like we believed that?

What if instead of telling God how big our problems are, we started reminding ourselves how big our God is?

What if we stopped putting limits on what God can do because we can't see a way for it to happen?

What if we prayed bigger prayers—not because we expect God to give us everything we want, but because we trust that He knows what is best?

Let's leave room for God to surprise us.

Let's stop trying to put God in a box based on what we think is possible.

Because our view is limited.

His isn't.

And the beautiful thing about this passage is that Paul doesn't end by making the focus about what God can do for us.

He ends with praise:

"To Him be glory..."

That's the point.

Whatever God chooses to do, however He chooses to do it, and whenever He chooses to do it, the glory belongs to Him.

So today, let's choose to believe that God is working even when we can't see it.

Let's choose to trust Him with the things we don't understand.

Let's choose to pray, to believe, to wait and to leave room for God to do what only God can do.

Because we don't want to limit God to what we can see.

Let's remember that He is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask or think.

And maybe the thing we're praying about right now isn't going to happen the way we think it will.

Maybe God has something completely different in mind.

Maybe His answer will be better than the one we would have written for ourselves.

So let's keep trusting.

Let's keep praying.

Let's keep believing.

And let's keep reminding ourselves:

God is able.

More able than we are.

More powerful than our circumstances.

More faithful than our feelings.

And capable of doing far more than we could ever ask, imagine or dream.

To Him be the glory. Forever and ever. Amen.