I’ve decided to take December (and possibly part of January) away from BeanSpired Editions. I hope to come back refreshed and with some exciting announcements for 2023.
The end of our capability doesn't have to be the end of our story. In fact, by the grace and power of God, it can be a beginning.
How we view disability and treat those who live with it matter. And, as with every other life topic or ethical question, our best guide is the Bible . . . All our best intentions and attempts at inclusion will miss the mark unless they grow from and by biblical truths.
Nothing can guarantee we'll make it through hardship without scars, slip-ups, or shaky moments. But there are things we can do to maximize our chances of suffering in a way that honors God and makes us more like Jesus. And a lot of that work begins long before the trial does.
When we truly, deeply love someone, we’re easily pleased with their gifts. They could give us a rock and we’d treasure it—because it’s from them. If their heart’s in it, our heart responds. I wondered: How pleased am I with what God gives me? What does that say about our relationship? And how does He respond to what I offer Him?
If God wants our sanctification so badly, why doesn't He just skim off our old selves and slip on the new in an instant? Why make us endure the wait?
Sometimes action has to precede emotion. Sometimes we have to trust the power of obedience to shape us, instead of trying to get ourselves in shape to obey.
Trusting God’s purposes is hard enough when bad things invade our lives. But what about when good things leave? When instead of facing an enemy, we face simply...emptiness?
He might be above and beyond us in just about every way. But He also draws close to us in all His holy otherness.
What do you do with the stuff that can't and won't stay buried, yet is still undeniably not what you wanted in your life?