Purposeful Faith

Author - Abby Mcdonald

The Problem With Hiding Our Struggles

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

“Mama, the monsters are coming at me,” my son said.

He stood by the bed with his face inches from mine, hands animated. My mid-REM cycle brain lingered between sleep and reality.

“What?” I asked. I saw that my son was disturbed by something. After realizing I was going to have to get out of bed, I stumbled to his room. I gave the bunk a full examination before telling him to get back in.

Five minutes later, he reappeared. The monsters were still there.

For some reason, the miracle of a flashlight never occurred to me. Thank God for my husband who came to the rescue with not just a flashlight, but a headlamp. Under the pillow it went.

Sweet, uninterrupted sleep followed. The next morning, I realized this tool I took for granted revealed the truth: the “monsters” were in fact shadows. There were no creepy things waiting to grab him in the night. He was safe.

It’s amazing what a little light can do.

Even in the darkest place, a flicker of it can go a long way.

Recently, I needed some light of my own. But for months, I didn’t tell anyone. I went through a dark season where I listened to one lie after another. Lies telling me I wasn’t enough. Lies telling me I should do better as a mother, wife, writer and friend. Lies telling me I wasn’t going to make it.

I thought, “If I can just make it through today, things will get better.”

Good days came and went and when the darkness hit again, I thought, “I’m just having a bad day.”

Somehow, bringing my struggle out into the open seemed threatening. I convinced myself if I could carry it a little longer, it would go away. I thought telling someone would make it my reality.

But in truth, it already was.

One day I sat in church operating the media projector while the worship band played Healing Is Here by The Deluge. My eyes were wet with tears as I mouthed the words.

Sickness can’t stay any longer

Your perfect love is casting out fear

You are the God of all power

And it is your will that my life is healed

Did I believe that? Did I believe God wanted me to be whole, complete, and fully secure in his love?

As I sat there asking myself this question, a miracle took place. The pastor called a sister forward to pray over the offering, but the Spirit had something else for us that day. A rescue. A release.

“There’s someone here who’s suffering from depression,” she stated without hesitation. She said God wanted that person to know his healing power was for her.

The tears ran freely down my cheeks. But still, my butt remained glue to my seat. In the next half hour, our church literally became what Jesus referred to in Matthew as “A House of Prayer.” Service stopped. The sermon was postponed.

This woman’s husband stood up and extended a second invitation, and I knew I had to go forward. And as a stood there at the front of the sanctuary with my head bowed, her hand reached through the crowd and grabbed mine.

Music played in the background while this sister prayed over me, naming lie after lie that I’d listened to for months. It was a God-ordained moment.

And what I realized was this: Even when no one else saw my pain, God did.

“…for your Father knows what you need before you even ask him.” Matthew 6:8b NIV

I finally understood that hiding our struggles does not diminish their power. It increases it.

But when I gave my problem a name, I was able to take the first step toward healing. I said, “I’m not going to let this rule me anymore.”

When we bring our darkness into his Light, he shows us truth.

Like my son with his headlamp, we can see the shadows aren’t able to defeat us. Though they lurk, they can never stand a chance against his perfect love.

Friend, no matter what you’re going through today, know this: God sees. Bring your fears, your problems and your sickness into his Light today. Tell someone you trust. Take a step forward.

His healing power begins when we reach for his hand.

 

Abby McDonald is the mom of three, a wife and writer whose hope is show readers their identity is found in Christ alone, not the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing their two boys or cuddling their newest sweet girl, you can find her drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about her adventures on her blog. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

 

When You Feel Too Small to Make a Difference

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

Several months ago, my husband and firstborn were almost hit by a car.

They walked toward our vehicle after a baseball game, and a woman backing up didn’t see them. My husband picked up our son, moving him out of the car’s path, and braced himself for impact.

Thankfully, the woman saw them at the last second. She jumped out of her car, hysterical and apologizing. My husband remained calm and told her they were okay, not wanting to add to her already panicked state.

They drove away from that night safe, but my son was never the same.

“Dadda, that car was going to hit you,” he said.

“Yes. It was. And whose job is it to protect you?”

“Yours,” he said, reflecting on what happened.

He’d heard it over and over. But that evening in early spring, he saw it. The words became real to him. And he knew his dad wasn’t tossing out some clichéd phrase or trying to soothe his fears with empty promises.

He meant it. He took ownership of those words in a moment where his life was at stake.

When we see love in action, it changes us.

It propels us. We see glimpses of a Creator who displayed the ultimate act of love in his death. But often, we get distracted. I’ll be the first to admit I’m guilty.

We live in a world where we are bombarded with countless alerts, news feeds and opinions. When someone expresses her deepest grief, we can respond without even typing words. A simple click-hold and we can choose from a range of five emotions. What more do we need right?

Every time I open my laptop, I am reminded how much apathy consumes our world. When I dwell on it, my mind goes to a dark place.

But do you know what God whispers to me when I’m sitting in the quiet? When I don’t feel big enough to make a difference or loud enough to be heard, he whispers two short words.

Show up.

When your friend receives the diagnosis and you don’t know what to say, show up.

When you don’t see your widowed, disabled neighbor for days, show up.

When your son breaks down in tears at the bus stop, show up.

I know the power of showing up because I’ve been on the receiving end of it. A few months before our first son arrived, a new acquaintance gave me her phone number and told me to call if I needed anything. I was in a new town, over two thousand miles from family, and I only knew a few people. But after giving birth I went through a dark season. I struggled to make it to bedtime.

In the midst of depression, lack of sleep and long days in an empty house, I forgot the promise of friendship.

I didn’t think to call because I was simply trying to survive.

Until she showed up. Uninvited, at my front door, with treats in hand and her kids on each side of her. I was in my PJs and it was after noon, but she didn’t care. What she cared about was me.

Like my son who saw his dad become a superhero, I saw love in action that day. I saw a person who wasn’t throwing out empty words, but was willing to be a friend. Even when it was uncomfortable. Even when it felt as though I didn’t have anything to offer.

I want to be that person. I want to be the one who sticks around even when everyone else leaves. I want to put skin in the game and love like I mean it. Will you join me?

When we do, lives are changed.

When we take off the blinders of the everyday and see what’s in the peripheral, love becomes real.

 

“But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. For we are a fragrance of Christ to God…” 2 Corinthians 2:14-15

 

Abby McDonald is the mom of three, a wife and writer whose hope is show readers their identity is found in Christ alone, not the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing their two boys or cuddling their newest sweet girl, you can find her drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about her adventures on her blog. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

Crushed By My Own Expectations

My turn to share was coming, and I wasn’t ready. While the other women on our Google chat discussed their writing goals, my mind spun on repeat. Summer gave this word a whole new meaning, and I was still processing it.

Ah yes, goals. What were those again? My goal yesterday was to keep the boys playing outside for more than twenty minutes before they came back in screaming from bloodied knees and bumps on heads. Today it was to make it to bedtime without yelling.

Sometimes my goals vary by the hour. It’s my first summer with three kids at home, and my mental capacity seems to wane a little more each minute.

This afternoon I turned my head to see our eight-month old trying to eat a dart our son left on the floor. (Don’t gasp; it was foam and rubber) Fortunately we were able to dislodge it from her death grip before she added purple styrofoam to her diet.

So, needless to say this Google chat was a welcome diversion where I could talk to other women like an actual adult. I listened to plans about our shared passion for writing and encouraging other women. It was bliss.

But my mind wasn’t on the future. It was on all the ways I’d failed over these summer months.

Click here to read the rest of this post and join us at Abby’s place for today’s #RaRaLinkup. Can’t wait to see you there!

When Your Past Returns to Haunt You

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

“Are you a pagan?”

I sat in a body-piercing studio with the owner gazing at a tattoo displayed on the nave of my back. It was a gnome, sitting on a mushroom and playing a fife. Everything about it screamed pot-smoker, hippy and apparently, pagan.

And to think I got it because I thought it looked cool. To me it said, “Outsider,” a label I gave myself during my younger years.

The man’s question caught me off guard. I was twenty-one at the time and wasn’t sure who I was, let alone what I believed.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. The artist seemed as surprised by my answer as I was. Immediately, I felt ashamed.

Who was this person, anyway?

I spent the next eight years trying to figure out the answer to that question. Eventually, I realized all of the places I ran to seek my identity were fickle and fading.

It wasn’t until I started with the One who gave me my eternal name that I would know my true self.

These days, my tattoo is usually hidden. But the other day, while on family vacation, I was changing into my swimsuit and my five-year-old saw it.

“Mama, what’s that on your back?”

I told him what the picture was and explained how a tattoo is like a permanent picture on your skin. Then, my mind went back. Back to the person I was. Back to the mistakes I made and the years I spent wasting my life. Things much bigger than a silly tattoo that shape the person I am today.

For a little while, I let the voice of condemnation darken the light in my soul.

Scenes of things I wish I’d never seen replayed in my mind. Faces of people who left this life for the next one burned in my memory and left my heart heavy.

Perhaps you’ve been there? You’re walking in the new life Jesus freely gave you, and then all of a sudden you’re hit with a blatant reminder of the mess you used to be? That, despite your best efforts, some days you still are?

In those dark moments when I’m not sure I can escape my past, God often gives me a reminder. This time was no different.

We arrived at the pool and found it closed because of an incoming storm. After playing for a while in the arcade next door, we made our way back to the campsite. As we made dinner, a beautiful site caught my eye.

A spectacular sunset over the river.

The sun was big and radiant, dipping to the horizon in a circular blanket of clouds. I hurriedly got my camera and ran down to the beach.

I must of snapped a dozen pictures, but when I flipped through them in my viewfinder I was disappointed. This huge ball of light and fire looked tiny and dim. I couldn’t capture its draw. It was uncontainable.

As I sat in our camper later that evening, I felt that gentle whisper in my spirit.

Don’t try to put limits on my grace, Abby. It’s more limitless than the sun.”

And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

John 1:16 ESV

I was putting God in a box again, thinking I could somehow run outside his grace. But it doesn’t just cover me. It drenches me.

We can’t put finite limitations on the grace of an infinite God.

And the moment we stop trying to put God in a box, we find we don’t want Him there. We find freedom. We find joy and rest.

So today, if your past is trying to haunt you, take a lesson from my tattoo. Remember it shapes you, but it doesn’t define you.

God can take the shattered pieces of your life and turn them into something far more spectacular than a sunset. He does it each and every day. Sometimes we just need a reminder of who he is.

Sometimes we have to take him out of the box and come to the altar. 

 

Abby McDonald is the mom of three, a wife and writer whose hope is show readers their identity is found in Christ alone, not the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing their two boys or cuddling their newest sweet girl, you can find her drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about her adventures on her blog. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

Has God Forgotten Me?

Forgotten Me

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

As soon as we walked in the home, a musty, mothball smell hit me. I looked around at sawdust and unfinished projects.

The place reeked of forgotten potential. It was like Fixer Upper gone bad.

While the bathrooms were redone, the floors desperately needed refinishing. The roof and deck were new, but holes gaped in the unpainted walls.

All of it spelled a big fat “no” in my mind, but my husband saw possibilities. I saw a long list of work, but he saw a future home for our family.

Less than two months later, that’s exactly what this abandoned house became. We painted, put up fixtures, and stained floors. We brought lots of love, sweat and tears.

Our family of three eventually grew to a family of five, and we’re still adding projects to a list that keeps growing. When one job is finished, there is inevitably another one waiting. But you know what? We keep pressing forward. Day by day, moment by moment.

When I think back on my first impressions of this place, I see lessons waiting to be learned. I start projects, get distracted and lose momentum. As a stay-at-home mom and writer, I face isolation and loneliness, and then let discouragement convince me to place my dreams on a shelf.

Like an old, abandoned fixer-upper, I forget my potential. More than that, I forget where my potential comes from: Christ in me.

A few weeks ago, I confided in some close friends how I felt shelved and forgotten. Like an old, dusty knick-knack left next to a book you bought but never read. At one point I was brutally honest about how I was feeling and came to God with my troubles. Do you know what I found? Feelings are often liars.

There is a well-known character in scripture who may have felt forgotten by God too. His name was Noah. We read about him and see a hero and a giant in the faith. We picture a man who heard God and stepped out in obedience. And he was.

But there was a period when Noah didn’t hear from God. At least, there is no record of God speaking in him in scripture. After telling Noah to get in the ark and sending the flood, for all we know God is silent.

When I heard this story as a child, I always thought the rain came down for forty days and then the rainbow appeared, but that’s not what scripture says. In addition to the forty days of rain, the waters flooded the earth for 150 days.

That’s a long time to be tossed in stormy waters and hear nothing.

Do you think Noah felt forgotten? He had no one except his family and a bunch of wild animals as his companions. Do you think he wondered where God was?

I know I would have. But God didn’t forget Noah or his promise. Not for one second.

But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and he sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded.

Genesis 8:1 NIV

Whenever scripture says “God remembered” it means he’s about to take action on his promises. In other words, he didn’t forget or take a vacation. He’s true to his word.

God can use seasons when we feel forgotten to help us remember the Author and Finisher of our faith. 

To help us remember our faith isn’t in results or happy outcomes or lack of struggles. Our faith is in a living, breathing person who will complete the work he began.

It isn’t up to us to do it on our own. And aren’t you glad? Our job is to take the next God-ordained step. And then the next one after that.

Even when the waters rise, he is there. He goes with us. And when the sun comes out and the flood recedes, he’ll be there to show us the way home.

 

Abby McDonald is the mom of three, a wife and writer whose hope is show readers their identity is found in Christ alone, not the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing their two boys or cuddling their newest sweet girl, you can find her drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about her adventures on her blog. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

Why Our Attempts to Create Our Own Personal Jesus Will Fail Every Time

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

I used to approach friendship with a long list of expectations. Things I thought a friend should do. A space I thought my friend should fill.

Instead of extending grace, I was disappointed when friends didn’t follow through with what they said they’d do. I didn’t care whether they had kids and or whether the unexpected happened.

All I saw was my set of rules.

“A true friend wouldn’t do that.”

“If she was your friend, she would keep her word.”

What’s even sadder is I approached my relationship with God the same way. Instead of coming to the throne of grace wanting to know him, I came with my expectations.

But my expectations weren’t based on promises in his Word. They were based on my notions of what he should be and what he should do for me.

“If he is God, he will answer this prayer.”

“He didn’t answer this prayer, so he must not care about me.”

All this time I walked around feeling lonely and defeated, God still loved me. He still heard my prayers and you know what? He still answered them.

He just didn’t answer them in the way I wanted or expected. During a season, I didn’t see his hand at all because I was so razor focused on certain details of my life.

When we try to create our own personal Jesus, we will fail every time. Because God is not a god of our creation. He is infinite, going far beyond our limited minds.

But what’s amazing is we can have a relationship with him. When we want more of him, he meets us where we are. He gives us his Word as a living tool to guide us and show us his heart. Take the story about Mary and Martha, for example.

Most of us know this story, and Martha often gets a bad rap. This pains me, because what Martha did wasn’t wrong. Serving God and wanting help was not the issue.

The problem was instead of expecting Jesus to be God, Martha expected Jesus to do what she wanted. She came with her expectations and preconceived ideas of what a Messiah who cared would do. When he didn’t meet her expectations, she was disappointed.

Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?

Luke 10:40 ESV

In other words, “Lord if you cared you would not let her leave me here.”

And Jesus corrects her not out of condemnation, but out of love. He says Mary chose what was more important. Mary chose knowing him.

Friends, we will always have expectations. It’s how our brains are wired and God knows this.

But freedom comes when we’re willing to hold loosely to our expectations and come to him in surrender. When we say, “God, I may not understand what you’re doing but I trust that you love me anyway.”

When we let go of our notions of who we think God should be, we can know him for who he truly is.

He is faithful to give us glimpses of his character and love. He shows us his ways and his plans and gives us hope.

Let’s lay our aside our expectations today and come to him with open hands.

Let’s have faith in what we don’t see, and bring glory to the One who sees us.

 Get all Purposeful Faith blog posts by email – click here.

Abby McDonald is the mom of three, a wife and writer whose hope is show readers their identity is found in Christ alone, not the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing their two boys or cuddling their newest sweet girl, you can find her drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about her adventures on her blog. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

You’re a Daughter, Not a Slave to Fear

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

I like to watch my kids when they don’t know I’m looking.

I eavesdrop on interactions between firstborn and little brother. I overhear whispers of imagination, hide-and-seek and Legos.

It’s not because I’m trying to catch them doing something wrong. On the contrary, I catch glimpses of their lives I might otherwise miss.

When they notice me, their response is always the same.

“What?”

And then comes the shoulder shrug. Like they’re waiting for a rebuke. As if I’m going to chide them for running or yelling.

I realize it’s partly my fault. Because many times, I do those things. And while I don’t apologize for it, I also want them to know I watch them because I relish in seeing them grow.

I’m a witness to these lives I helped create, and I love seeing them discover new things.

The other day as I was driving to the market, the new David Dunn song I Wanna Go Back came on the radio. It describes how as we grow older, we often lose our childlike faith and belief that we can do or be anything. Instead of being grateful we have neighbors next door to play with, we feel like we have to keep up with them.

So what does the artist want? To go back. He says he wants to go back to “Jesus loves me this I know…”

As I sat in the car listening and singing along, I thought, “Don’t we all?” I realized somewhere along the line, I forgot God watches me the love of a Father instead of an angry parent waiting to punish me. He sees me as a beloved daughter and a new creation, not a messed up kid who can’t ever get anything right.

But often, I’ll hit a road bump in life or a detour and say, “What?” Just like my kids. I think, “God must be punishing me for something I did wrong.”

I think, “Oh snap, God is watching me again. He must have seen that time I raced past the meet and greet or the time I avoided the prayer meeting.”

I don’t notice all the days he’s kept his eye on me and delivered me from harm. I race past the time he showed up through an encouraging note on an awful day and a friend’s offer to help.

What if we spent each day looking for glimpses of God’s love? Instead of fearing his rebuke, what if we looked for evidence that he’s watching us with admiration in his eyes, the same way I watch my kids?

If I see my kids with the joy of a mother’s heart, I know he sees me with a joy that surpasses my understanding. I know because the same God who created them created me. He created you.

When I got home from the market, I picked up our baby girl and put her on the bed. I didn’t try to hide the fact that I was watching her.

I smiled at her and she smiled back, her eyes all bright with the newness of an infant. As I took in her sweetness, I realized that’s how I want to be.

I want to smile back at God with the confidence of a daughter. A daughter who knows I’m worth more than many sparrows.

A daughter who knows he watches me with love.

Get all Purposeful Faith blog posts by email – click here.

Abby McDonald is the mom of three, a wife and writer whose hope is show readers their identity is found in Christ alone, not the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing their two boys or cuddling their newest sweet girl, you can find her drinking copious amounts of coffee while writing about her adventures on her blog. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

When Rest Feels Like a Prison Sentence

“Take the keys and go,” my husband said.

It wasn’t a question. From the time he’d walked in the door my tone had been short and snippy. He knew I’d had a long day and needed time to myself, even though I was insisting on cleaning up the dishes.

After stalling several times on my way out the door, I left. I played worship music in the car and talked to God about the things that were bothering me.

I didn’t take much time to listen. I didn’t pause to see whether he had an answer to my endless list of concerns and complaints.

But since our God is faithful and more patient than I deserve, he kept speaking.

One day in early February the weather was crazy warm. Spring warm. Our family went for a walk, and my five-year-old paused every five seconds to pick up rocks and sticks. He found his favorite bridge (a slat of wood) and hopped across, quite pleased with himself as he ran down the other side of the ravine.

Will you continue reading? Today Abby McDonald is hosting the #RaRaLinkup and we’d love for you to join us at her place! Click here to join us!

Why the World Needs Your Voice and No One Else’s Will Do

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

My son’s face spelled frustration. He tried to get his classmate’s attention as we left the birthday party, but skating rink noise drowned his voice.

After he called her name several times with no response, he gave up.

“It’s loud in here, buddy,” I said, trying to reassure him.

And it was. I practically ran to get out into the sunshine after two hours of musty air, loud bass and sticky floors. But I also knew he felt defeated.

For better or worse, he inherited my quiet demeanor and his voice doesn’t always project. When he has something to say, he’s intentional, but his words sometimes get lost on those with a short attention span.

I can relate in more ways than one. All it takes is a few minutes on social media for me to feel overwhelmed by the influx of voices.

“What do I have to say?” I ask myself. “No one is going to miss my words.”

There is an article on every topic under the sun. I can find something to make me feel good about neglecting my health, yelling at my kids, and being snippy with my husband. I can find encouragement for any season.

What more does a person need, right?

If we need a good argument to walk off the rink and give up, we don’t have to look far. No one will tell you it’s easy to be heard in a world where everyone is shouting for attention.

This week I read the through the gospels and do you know one thing I love about Jesus? He noticed those others overlooked. He went out of his way to bring hope to the reject, outcast and the lame. It didn’t matter whether others thought he wasting his time.

And do you know what he did for these overlooked people by paying attention to them? He gave them a voice.

He visited the Samaritan woman at the well and gave her words of life, and because he did, she brought truth to an entire village. Many were saved because she didn’t keep what she’d learned to herself. It didn’t matter whether she had prestige, education or social status.

What mattered was the message she shared.

Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.” John 4:39 ESV

You may be the exact, one-of-a-kind expression of God’s love someone needs today.

It doesn’t matter how loud your voice is. What matters is using the one He gave you.

It doesn’t matter how much speaking experience you have or how many Bible verses you know. What matters is sharing your own unique story.

No one has the exact same passions, experiences and disposition you do. You are positioned within your community and family to offer something only you can.

A few weeks ago, my firstborn spoke about what he’d learned at cub scouts in front a large group of people. The microphone gave him the extra projection he needed, and he expressed himself with confidence.

Afterwards, the pack leader told my husband how well our son did. He used the tools that were given to him and delivered the message he knew.

And you know what? That’s all God asks us to do.

When we step out in faith and trust the unique story he’s given us, lives change. Sometimes we just need the right tools and the right moment to do so.

 

Abby McDonald is a mom, wife and writer who desires to show women that the hope of Christ can be found in the middle of life’s messes. She’s learning each day to let his lavish love define her instead of the noise of the world. When she’s not chasing her two boys around or cuddling their new baby girl, you can find her writing about her passion for a God who relentlessly pursues her, even during her darkest times. Abby would love to connect with you on her blog and her growing Facebook community.

When You’re Afraid You’ll Never Achieve Your Goals and Dreams

Blog Post by Abby McDonald

I listened to the interview with the popular Christian writer, my mind reeling with questions. But the one that kept repeating itself over and over was, “How?”

This woman had a slew of kids running around, and she homeschooled all of them. Her writing was not shoddy. Each syllable sang with an effortless harmony as you read.

So how? How were there enough hours in the day? Did she have on a superwoman cape I couldn’t see as I listened to the podcast?

At the time I had two kids. Now I have three, the last one two months young. There are days I barely get the laundry done and the food made, much less worry about doing anything creative.

I see women on social media who, in all the bright lights and glow of the computer screen, are pursuing their goals and dreams. They are achieving milestones I dare to think about as I’m nursing my sweet babe at night.

Before daybreak, the fear takes over and says, “You’ll never get there.”

Comparison is such a lonely place to live.

When we compare, we fear never being like someone else when God simply wants us to be the person he created.

We live in a toxic state of thinking we have to achieve the next rung on our self-made ladder instead of embracing the season we’re in. But friends, we weren’t made to keep up with the Joneses or the Kardashians or anyone else.

We were made to live our own unique lives, each of us working together to create a beautiful God-story.

During the moments I’m tempted to exchange my story for someone else’s God is showing me a better way. Instead of spending my time in fear and comparison, I bring it to him.

I say, “God, today I only have a half hour to work on this project. I don’t know how it’s going to get done, but I trust you.”

And in ways only he can, he multiplies my efforts. He takes that little sliver of time and makes it enough.

One day it was raining non-stop and the fog on the mountain where we live was thick, reflecting my tired mental state. I was feeling discouraged, so I brought my concerns to God. I’ll be the first to admit, this isn’t always my first inclination.

I told him my concerns and worries, how I wanted to get back to assignments I knew he’d given me to complete, but I didn’t see how.

A few days later, an opportunity dropped in my lap. It wasn’t something I was pursuing or even knew was a possibility, but in that moment I knew God was answering me.

With this email from an editor that popped into my inbox, he said, “You don’t have to worry about what you’re going to do months from now or even next week. Just make the most of the time I’ve given you. Right here, today.”

And in doing so, I not only honor my family, but God. I can stop trying to keep up with the person next to me and focus on the task in front of me. One step at a time.

I felt like a huge load was lifted off my shoulders.

I know there will be days I’m tempted to look in the other lane. Chances are, you’ll be tempted too.

But can I tell you something? The ride is so much more enjoyable when, instead of seeing how far we have to go, we look at the view around us.

Instead of fearing we’ll never make it to the next destination, let’s look at how far we’ve come.

Order Fear Fighting: Awakening Courage to Overcome Your Fears, today!

 

Abby McDonald is a writer who can’t contain the lavish love of a God who relentlessly pursues here, even during her darkest times. When she’s not chasing her two little boys around, she loves hiking, photography, and consuming copious amounts of coffee with friends.

Abby would love to connect with you on her blog, Pinterest, and Facebook.

 

 

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