“It is finished,” Jesus declared as He breathed His last breath on the cross, as recorded in John 19:30. With these words, His sacrifice was complete. All sin was atoned for and the relationship between God and humanity restored. There is a weight to these words and this moment, though, that we struggle to fully live into on this side of heaven.

Whatever form it takes, suffering has a way of making us feel isolated and can cause us to question where God is in the middle of it. But just as suffering is not an indication of faith, asking these questions does not indicate a lack of faith.

“Boundary setting” is a phenomenon that emerged in self-help and pop culture as a relationship tool in the late 1980s. Since then, it has been a mainstay of common advice and suggestions for many relationship struggles. Yet, while it is frequently mentioned as a strategy, boundary setting can be markedly difficult to put into practice.

Most people have heard the expression, “just have faith,” but faith can feel complicated at times. In the midst of all of life’s uncertainties and our own baggage, something that seems as simple as faith can start to feel more and more complicated and less and less like something that we can easily reach for or feel is a reality in our minds, bodies, and hearts. 

Parents in today’s culture often believe that our children should be the light of our lives and that we should be willing to sacrifice everything for them. Yet there is a fine line between what is healthy and what is unhealthy when it comes to our parental devotion.

I’ll be the first to say that rhythms of faith practice do make a difference in one’s spiritual life, that scripture reading, prayer, and time in silence are all good and powerful things. But sometimes when we go to evaluate our spiritual health we essentially look only at those external practices—or we read through the Ten Commandments—as though they were a checklist.

Encumbered by a world where suffering and sin happen every day to some extent, healing can feel difficult to come by, but I would like to propose that some of the issue has to do with our expectations and definitions of healing. On this subject, Christ has a lot to say.

Most of us possess a very strong need for relational connection, which is challenged by the repeated pains of failed and broken relationships.

If you’ve heard it once I’d bet you’ve heard it 100 times: practicing the act of gratitude daily benefits mental health. Yet, if you are experiencing significant anxiety and/or depression, considering how to increase feelings of gratefulness can be overwhelming, or even shame-inducing.

Though electronics have great benefits as tools, they also come with a cost. In this final portion of my series, I hope to make a case for replacing screen usage with more helpful alternatives, namely boredom, slowness, and presence.

There’s a story in the Old Testament that shows not only the lengths that people will go for the idols in their life, but also the power that God has to show idols for what they are.

Release is essential to self-care. When we choose to live with a tight fist or an anxious grip instead of with open hands, we become powerless and easily overcome by what we won’t let go of. 

It takes intentionality to live a life free of judgment. There is so much corruption in the world that it's hard to escape the inclination to speak on the shortcomings of others, but letting go of judgment is a wise investment in our own wellbeing.

If we are honest, we have all experienced unsettled, wandering feelings at some point or in some way for whatever period of time. And it turns out that we are especially susceptible to sin when we don’t have what we want or need or we find ourselves lacking. So what do we do with these moments?

In my last article I discussed the rise of addictive screen patterns, the dangers of screen addiction or overuse, and the common causes driving these behaviors. Today, let’s talk about how to make sure it’s truly you—not a screen—that’s in charge of your life.

When my husband and I became parents last May, we started having conversations about our expanding family. With our new addition, things like family culture and values seemed more important than ever, but thinking about how to raise our son in a gospel-centered way—and all that goes into it—seemed overwhelming.

God's love story with us starts in a garden where He created us to have dominion and to lovingly steward what He created. Because we are designed to engage with nature, we benefit from the holistic healing effects of spending time outdoors.

I have often written about the noise of today, the stirring all around that the world can produce, the natural gifts of children that create a joyful noise and laughter in life. But even joyful noise can stir in us a longing for something different: a longing for silence, for a quiet that stills every noise in your mind, a peace that surpasses understanding (Philippians 4:7). 

Are we supposed to pursue the integration of suffering into our lives, even if it doesn’t come naturally to us? If so, why? And what is the payoff if we do?

This spring I found myself gardening with my two older girls (5 yrs old and 3 yrs old). At first they were very excited, but they soon lost interest. It is hard work to plant, water, and wait, and it all takes time. But eventually they learned to see the beauty in the waiting, in the growth, in the change.