Ivan: Hello everyone! This picture was taken when Grace and I had the wonderful opportunity to speak at Wheaton College. Though the hallway itself is nondescript, its juxtaposition of light and shadow stood out to me. The metaphor of light and darkness is also one of the most common themes throughout the Bible: “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). Sin is often portrayed as darkness. In fact, Jesus admonishes us not to live in the dark, but to step into the light: “For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God” (John 3:20-21).

Let’s build on this metaphor: Imagine that your heart is a house with many rooms. Most of the rooms have open windows, with curtains fluttering in the breeze and sunshine pouring in. But there is a room – or two or three – with locked doors; the curtains are drawn, and the windows shut. These rooms are filled with darkness.

We intellectually know that God sees all things, including the depths of our hearts; we also know that the life of the believer should be a life of total surrender to our Lord and Savior. And yet are there certain rooms in our hearts that we’re trying to keep closed off to God?

What would it look like if we truly opened all the doors and windows in our hearts to God’s light and love? What would it look like if we kept absolutely nothing from God, if every aspect of our lives were fully lived in the light of God’s mercy and grace? What a life that would be. May we daily step in to His light, encountering His holiness and living in His power and love.

Grace: When I consider why I delay confessing sin or temptation to God and people, my excuse is usually fear. Although I know my sins are forgiven because of Christ’s work on the cross, depending on the situation it can be very hard for me to shake the idea that I have disappointed God – again – especially after all he has done for me. And when it comes to people, it is even harder to predict how they will respond to my admitting sin or weakness. Sometimes they respond with grace and kindness, and sometimes, sadly, they don’t. When they don’t, that makes it even more challenging to remember that God himself is not angry with me, because Christ’s work on my behalf is already complete. The truth is, the only thing that strains my relationship with God is my own prideful fear of being honest. But God has promised that when we confess our sins “he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). While none of us can control the human response to our coming into the light, we can trust what God has told us about himself, and pray for the discernment to see the difference between flawed human reactions and the unlimited forgiveness and mercy that is always available in Christ.

Dying of thirst is one of the worst deaths I can imagine, both for its duration and for the psychological torment that accompanies it. Although this is a real threat for some parts of the world, very few of us in the United States spend much time thinking about it, unless we work in emergency medicine or forget to pack a water bottle when we’re heading to the gym. 

Sometimes I wonder if this lack of exposure to real thirst has made Jesus’ promise to give us “living water” in John 4:10-14, or David’s cry to God from “a dry and thirsty land where there is no water” in Psalm 63:1, a bit harder to appreciate when we’re doing well, or cling to when we’re struggling.

In God’s sovereignty, in the very early days of my accident, I did experience what it was like to believe I was dying of thirst. Although my body was receiving adequate nutrition, first through an NG tube and later through a stomach tube, I was not allowed to eat or drink for several weeks. My family assumed that I would “feel” fine since my nutritional needs were being met, but we quickly discovered that was not the case. Doctors explained that, unless food and water pass through your mouth, your brain believes you are thirsting and starving to death. I became obsessed with begging for food, but especially water. It didn’t matter how often people explained that it wasn’t safe for me to eat or drink, and that my body was receiving everything it needed –  nothing could assuage my overpowering desire for a drink. Even sleep didn’t provide relief. In my dreams, I was either dying of thirst or taking one long, refreshing drink after another. I also became a bold-faced liar, assuring whoever happened to be in the room that I had “just” gotten permission to start eating and drinking again. Somehow, no one ever believed me. 

As torturous as this experience felt, I realize it is still light-years away from the moment-by-moment pain and fear faced by people with truly restricted or zero access to water or food. However, knowing a little of what it’s like to experience serious thirst psychologically has helped me understand better both what David was describing when he cried out to God, and what a rich promise Jesus makes when he offers us “living water.” Recently, it’s also been causing me to reevaluate how I “expect” God to come through for me when I’m in the midst of a trial. Do I have one outcome I’m praying for (in this example, receiving literal food and water)? And in fixing all my hopes on this outcome, am I missing God’s actual provision (the “food” coming through the NG tube)? 

Contrasting my own assurance that I was perishing with the truth that I was actually receiving everything I needed, as well as observing how this attitude plays out in my life today as I still struggle to embrace that what God gives me is sometimes very different from what I want or believe I need, reminds me that translating “head knowledge” about God to “heart knowledge” that transforms my everyday walk is an ongoing journey that will last until Heaven. May we trust God’s faithfulness to complete the good work he is doing in all of us!

Recently, God impressed a single word on my heart: Abide. I’ve heard the word all my life, but I decided to look it up since I’d never given it much thought. According to Merriam-Webster, “abide” means “ to remain stable or fixed in a state.”

As I’ve been pondering this call to abide, I’ve also been reminded of Old Testament verses like “Be still and know that I am God,” (Psalm 46:10), and “In quietness and confidence shall be your strength” (Isaiah 30:15). This past season has been anything but quiet for me, with the publication of Hello, God and our recent trip to Central Europe. One event represents the culmination of a year of praying, writing, and seeking the Lord’s will, and the other is a continuation of how God’s healing enables us to travel internationally, something we once considered impossible. But in another sense, both events intensify the temptation to rely on my own strength, look away from the Lord, and measure my success by human metrics rather than God’s.

That’s why I think the Lord’s reminder to abide is so tender and timely, and I hope sharing it will encourage you as well. Summer can be a time for rest, but it can also be a time for running after even more activities than we pursue during the rest of the year. I’m becoming more and more convinced that being still in the Lord’s presence precedes truly knowing He is sovereign over every detail of my life in my heart as well as my head.

I also think that this theme of quiet confidence in God’s power ties in to Jesus’ sermon on abiding.  

Jesus’ words comfort me because the “abiding” he desires is not measured by anything I do on my own, like meeting the standards I set for myself or others set for me. Rather, to borrow the definition of “abide” I shared earlier, he’s looking for how stable I remain in reading his Word and in prayer. And if I am giving him preeminence in these ways, then I can trust that he will help me produce the fruit he desires. 

May we all continue to grow in our desire to be still, know, and abide this summer!

Hello Blogging Family, I hope you all had a great 4th of July yesterday! This picture was taken at the Heindl chocolate factory in Vienna, where Grace and I got to participate in a chocolate-making workshop on our recent school trip. Perhaps Heindl’s most famous products are the Mozartkugel and Sissi Taler, chocolates named after the famous Classical composer and Empress Elisabeth of Austria. I hadn’t heard of Empress Elisabeth before, but discovered that she is very popular in Austria, perhaps the most beloved figure from the Habsburg dynasty.

Thinking about the freedoms we enjoy – and expect – today has provided an interesting contrast between the history we learned on our trip and how we think about God. During our tour of Central Europe, our local guides taught us about many different rulers: kings, emperors, princes. They spanned multiple periods of history, from medieval times through World War I. Some ruled well, others poorly; some were honorable, others sadly not.

The Bible describes God as a king. King David writes in Psalm 103:9, “The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all.”

But what kind of king is God? As Grace and I learned about the earthly rulers who came and went in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, it was hard to imagine that even the most noble and selfless of them would willingly sacrifice themselves for their people. Instead, they tended to hold on to power and make sure that others couldn’t challenge them!

Jesus did the opposite. Being in fact “King of Kings and Lord of Lords” (Revelation 19:16), He chose to leave His heavenly throne and enter our broken world (Philippians 2:6-8). Why? To redeem us from sin and death, to reconcile us to Himself.

This in itself is more than wondrous, but the love of God goes deeper still: Jesus didn’t die in our place because we were already His people; He died in order to make us His people. In fact, we were His enemies! This is truly unheard of. Which of us would lay down our lives (literally) for those who oppose us, mistreat us, mock us? Which of us, given supreme power and authority, would give it all away and die in the place of our enemies?

Friends, this is exactly what our Lord Jesus did for us. The Apostle Paul writes:

We were God’s enemies, yet He died in our place to make us His people, His family, His friends. Each of us must decide how we will respond to God’s offer of forgiveness and redemption. Will we remain His enemies? Or will we, in wonder and gratitude, humbly bow our knees in worship?

As the lyrics of the song “Amazing Love,” say:

I’m forgiven because You were forsaken
I’m accepted, You were condemned
I’m alive and well, Your Spirit is within me
Because You died and rose again

Amazing love, how can it be
That You, my King, should die for me?
Amazing love, I know it’s true
And it’s my joy to honor You
In all I do, to honor You

May we serve our King with gratitude and joy ☺️

The implacable Southern California sun refracted off our bone-white driveway and stung my eyes. Sweat clung to the inside of my tank top. “Mom -” I hesitated. “- where do you find strength to keep going under pressure?” 

My family had endured its rough seasons over the years. All my grandparents passed away before I turned twenty. Although we lived hundreds of miles away and my mom homeschooled me and my sister, she traveled to Georgia as much as she could to help with their care. None of us knew it yet, but a few years later she would move in with Ivan and me for five months after my accident.

What already struck me as a 19-year-old was that Mom never complained about the constant demands of caring for others. I’ve pondered her answer to my question as Ivan and I have walked through our own trials over the years, and I’d like to share it with you all in honor of Mother’s Day.

“Well,” she replied, after a moment’s pause. “God helps you find beauty in the things you love.”

I was startled. Through my parents’ ministry, I’d already encountered plenty of un-beautiful situations like death, miscarriage, and divorce. As I’ve contemplated Mom’s words and learned more about how God sees us through the gospel, their meaning has taken more shape.

We live in a world that has rejected God. But God in his mercy still allows our world to be beautiful and showers us with common grace, whether or not we acknowledge its Source (Acts 14:17). 

What’s more, once we surrender to Christ, when God looks at us he chooses to see his precious, perfect Son, rather than our sinful corruption:

This does not mean that God glosses over our brokenness. Rather, he grants us positional holiness, while patiently completing the good work that he began the moment that we accepted Christ (Phil. 1:6). So we exist in an “already” and “not yet” state of grace. 

What about those of us called to love people who are not walking with the Lord? I think we can ask God for strength to not grow weary in doing good, and for grace to see everyone as made in the image of God, no matter how much sin may distort that image. God will reward us at the proper time if we do not give up, whether we see that reward in this life or in Heaven. Although it’s easy to agonize over hypotheticals – “Should I have used a better illustration? Would that Bible verse have been more impactful?” – I continue to grow in the awareness that only God’s supernatural intervention can awaken us to our need for salvation (Eph. 2:4-5). All he asks is for us to be instruments ready for him to use, and leave the results to him. 

When Mom encouraged me to find beauty in what I loved, I don’t think she was advocating for ignoring brokenness. But I do think her outlook reflected hope that God is transforming those of us who have placed our faith in Christ into his image, however infinitesimal that progress may seem at times. May this give us great humility and great peace as we seek to grow in Christ and love those around us!