When You’ve Done Everything Right and Still Feel Like You Failed
I stared into the bathroom mirror and asked myself a very important question: How many people out there can tell I'm faking it?
Not exactly the inspirational pre-event pep talk I was hoping for.
I had done everything right. Really, I had. I'd lined up another speaker to carry most of the load. I'd purchased the decorations and gifts weeks in advance. I'd even managed to say "no," which, if you know me, is practically an Olympic sport, to several things threatening to crowd my calendar. When the back tweak hit, I rested. When the newsletter deadline loomed, I pushed it back without guilt. When the company arrived, I graciously excused myself when needed.
I had managed my time, my energy, and my expectations. I was practically a wellness guru.
And yet, there I stood, more tired than when the week began, staring at a reflection that told the whole unvarnished truth.
Owls, Night Seasons, and the God Who Sees in the Dark
Did you know you can learn a lot of theology from a bird with big eyes and a funny hoot? I didn't either—at least, not until my Bible study on the animals of the Bible landed on the owl. Suddenly, this "spooky" night bird became one of my favorite little professors.
In Isaiah 43, God says something that stopped me in my tracks: "The beast of the field shall honour me, the dragons and the owls..." (Isaiah 43:20a). The owls honour Him... in the dark. They don't sing like the sweet little songbirds at sunrise. They don't trill in the bright blue sky. They hoot in the lonely, desolate places when everyone else has gone quiet and gone home.
Most birds are at their best in the sunshine, but the owl is built for the night.
When Doubt Knocks on Faith’s Door
There's a man in the Bible whose story has always comforted me, especially on days when my faith feels shaky and my doubts feel louder than my convictions. He is never named but is identified as the father of the demon-possessed boy, and his story is found in Mark 9.
This man brings his son to Jesus' disciples, desperate for help. The boy is suffering terribly, seized by a spirit that throws him to the ground, makes him foam at the mouth, and grinds his teeth. The disciples try to cast out the demon, but they can't. Finally, Jesus arrives, and the father falls at His feet with one of the most honest prayers in all of Scripture: "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."
Let that sink in for a moment. This man is saying, "Jesus, I do believe in You. I have faith in Your power. And I have doubts. I'm not entirely sure. Help me with the parts where I'm struggling."
Carrying Light, Not Load
Yesterday, during my Bible study on animals in Scripture, I was certain the donkey would teach me a lesson about stubbornness. After all, isn't that what donkeys are famous for? But God had something entirely different and far more beautiful in store for me.
As I studied the account of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, it hit me like a thunderbolt. That little donkey wasn't chosen because of what he could carry but because of who he would carry. He wasn't meant to haul heavy burdens. He was meant to carry the Light of the World. And here's where it gets personal: we're just like that donkey.
How many times have I trudged through my days feeling like a pack mule, weighed down by worry, responsibility, and those endless "what-ifs" that plague my thoughts? I've rounded my shoulders under the weight of "should-haves" and stumbled over obligations that were never mine to bear. I've been so busy carrying the load that I forgot I was meant to carry the Light.
The Undistracted Palm
I recently delved into the fascinating world of Leonardo Da Vinci's mind. Did you know he had hundreds of notebooks bursting with ideas for inventions, studies, paintings, and sculptures? The remarkable thing about Da Vinci wasn't just his genius but his peculiar habit of rarely finishing one project before jumping to another. His brilliant mind constantly churned with new concepts, leaving a trail of half-completed masterpieces.
Oh, how I feel a kinship with Leonardo! My desk drawer contains a notebook that's practically bursting with ideas for devotions, children's picture books, stories, and other literary ventures. Some mornings I wake with such clarity about a new book or story concept that I can hardly wait to scribble it down before it evaporates like morning dew.
"I'll finish my current project first," I tell myself firmly. Yet two hours later, I'm sketching outlines for the new idea while my half-edited manuscript sits neglected on my computer.