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Devotions Archive

Trusting God With Your Critics

Somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a list, a running tally of people who've said unkind things, dismissed my work, questioned my motives, or just plain been rude. And if I'm being really honest, there are moments when I replay those offenses like a favorite movie, except nobody's enjoying the show.

Maybe you have a list too.

In my newest book, Hope Refined, David is at one of the lowest points in his life. He's fleeing Jerusalem, exiled from his throne by his own son. He's exhausted, humiliated, and heartbroken. And right in the middle of that miserable journey, a man named Shimei comes out and starts cursing him. Loudly. Publicly. Enthusiastically. He throws stones at David and his servants, kicking a man while he is very much down.

David's mighty men are on their feet in an instant.

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The Myth of the Flawless Hero

I have a confession to make. I've been guilty of building pedestals.

Not literal ones, mind you. I'm not much of a carpenter (just ask my Holiday Bible Club kids).

But in my mind? Oh, I've constructed some beautiful monuments to the people I admire most. My favorite preachers. The missionaries whose newsletters I devoured. The women who taught me the Word with such fire and grace that I was sure they'd never had a bad day in their lives.

And then, inevitably, several of them fell off.

That crash is a special kind of heartbreak, isn't it? It's not just that a person disappointed you. It's that the idea you'd built around them came crumbling down, and sometimes, if you're not careful, your faith goes down with the rubble.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, actually.

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The Quiet Creep of Compromise

It started so quietly. No trumpet blast. No neon sign flashing WARNING: SIN AHEAD. Just a king, a rooftop, and a little too much time on his hands.

Second Samuel 11 opens with one of the most haunting lines in all of Scripture: "And it came to pass, after the year was expired, at the time when kings go forth to battle, that David sent Joab, and his servants with him, and all Israel; and they destroyed the children of Ammon, and besieged Rabbah. But David tarried still at Jerusalem." (2 Samuel 11:1)

Did you catch that? But David tarried. Four little words. A thousand devastating consequences.

Spring had come, the time when a king was supposed to lace up his armor and lead his men into battle. But David didn't go. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he figured he'd earned a break. Maybe he told himself it was just this once. Whatever the reason, he stayed home…

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The Poison We Drink

I've been spending a lot of time lately with Merlin.

Now, before you picture a pointy hat and a wand, let me clarify that I'm talking about my Merlin, the protagonist of my upcoming novel, Hope Refined. And this particular Merlin is having a really, really bad day. Actually, make that a really bad season of life.

You see, Merlin has just watched King David, a man he respected and who was supposed to be the model of a great king, sin in a spectacular and devastating way. Betrayal. Corruption. The kind of thing that shakes your faith in people right down to the foundation. And Merlin is furious. Righteously, completely, humanly furious.

And honestly? I get it.

There's something in all of us that ignites when we witness injustice. When someone we trusted lets us down. When the person who was supposed to stand for right chooses wrong instead.

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Putting on the Armor When You’re Tired

Last week, Jason and I finally did it. We hauled out the old, falling-apart dressers and replaced them with a shiny new (well, new to us) three-door wardrobe. Jason built in some shelves, I found the perfect baskets, and over the course of a few days, we went through every piece of clothing we had stuffed in those poor drawers.

Some things were easy to let go of: old, worn-out pieces that had lived a good life. Others I just never reached for anymore. But I'll be honest, there were more items than I'd like to admit that simply didn't fit anymore. I wish I could say that some had gotten too big, but sadly, that was NOT the case. Either way, they weren't doing me any good.

As I stood there, holding up yet another item that no longer fit and muttering something unladylike under my breath, a thought hit me: Sometimes the armor of God feels exactly like this.

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