Emily Conrad's Blog, page 9
July 27, 2017
Why We Must Compliment Each Other
by Emily Conrad
When I answered the phone call, I never expected to be asked to do an interview on the local news. Yet, my friend described that a reporter had taken an interest in the story of her dog being bitten. Because I’d helped get the dog to the vet and also owned a dog that had been attacked twice in the last year, the reporter thought interviewing me would help to fill out his story.
I was hesitant because I am not the hero in the story of helping her dog (spoiler alert: Jesus is) and because it was a TV interview. Don’t cameras add ten pounds? And what if I could think of nothing intelligent to say?
After all, on that phone call, I was a mess of fumbling hesitancy. However, the reporter got on the line and assured me he thought an interview would be a good addition to the story and that the story was for a good cause—awareness of dog bites and how to prevent them.
That alone would not have been enough to convince me. But as I fumbled through that phone call, I heard in my mind encouragement I’ve received over the years. I’ve been told multiple times that I’m well-spoken under pressure.
If not for that encouragement, I would’ve declined. However, through that positive feedback, God had armed me with just enough confidence to agree. I’d been given a talent, and I had a responsibility to not bury it.
In a group at my church, we recently watched a video in which the speaker said some people don’t know what their spiritual gifts are.
That seemed like a shame to me and another woman in our group (and maybe to others as well), so we asked the group to go through the uncomfortable exercise of either saying what our gifts are, or if a person didn’t know their gifts, letting the group help suggest what strengths we’d seen in each other.
It was a bit awkward for some, and I can’t say we did perfectly at being able to discern each person’s gifts, but I hope that in some cases, the discussion encouraged those present.
And I hope that encouragement empowers them to really take advantage of their gifts. To use them.
Photo by Evan Kirby on Unsplash
That news reporter needed a little more material to fill out the story he was trying to tell. Likewise, God invites us to use the gifts He's given us to fill out the story He's telling--but sometimes we don't realize it unless someone points it out to us.
Or, to go with the Biblical analogy, if we hold back, the body of Christ loses out on a hand or an eye or something else it needs to function at 100%.
People who don't know they have something special won't value that aspect of their personalities. They aren't as likely to feel confident enough to step out and use them when the opportunity falls in their laps. They're even less likely to go out and find ways to minister using that special gift.
So, for the sake of the story and the sake of the body of Christ, when you see someone do something well, let them know. Encourage them to continue. Remind them that the skill is a gift from God given to help complete the body, the story He’s writing.
And when God gives you the opportunity to step out and do what you do well, don’t hang back. Each gift is a responsibility and an opportunity.
Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash
As for my opportunity, I won’t say I rocked the interview, but thankfully, using our gifts isn't about perfection. Nothing to do with the faith life is about perfection. It's about a willingness to be used when and how God chooses to do so. We just have to show up, talents surrendered to Christ so He can write the story He wants in our lives, our communities, and our world.
God invites us to use the gifts He's given us to fill out the story He's telling via @emilyrconrad
Title Image Photo by Harry Knight on Unsplash
When I answered the phone call, I never expected to be asked to do an interview on the local news. Yet, my friend described that a reporter had taken an interest in the story of her dog being bitten. Because I’d helped get the dog to the vet and also owned a dog that had been attacked twice in the last year, the reporter thought interviewing me would help to fill out his story.
I was hesitant because I am not the hero in the story of helping her dog (spoiler alert: Jesus is) and because it was a TV interview. Don’t cameras add ten pounds? And what if I could think of nothing intelligent to say?
After all, on that phone call, I was a mess of fumbling hesitancy. However, the reporter got on the line and assured me he thought an interview would be a good addition to the story and that the story was for a good cause—awareness of dog bites and how to prevent them.
That alone would not have been enough to convince me. But as I fumbled through that phone call, I heard in my mind encouragement I’ve received over the years. I’ve been told multiple times that I’m well-spoken under pressure.
If not for that encouragement, I would’ve declined. However, through that positive feedback, God had armed me with just enough confidence to agree. I’d been given a talent, and I had a responsibility to not bury it.
In a group at my church, we recently watched a video in which the speaker said some people don’t know what their spiritual gifts are.
That seemed like a shame to me and another woman in our group (and maybe to others as well), so we asked the group to go through the uncomfortable exercise of either saying what our gifts are, or if a person didn’t know their gifts, letting the group help suggest what strengths we’d seen in each other.
It was a bit awkward for some, and I can’t say we did perfectly at being able to discern each person’s gifts, but I hope that in some cases, the discussion encouraged those present.
And I hope that encouragement empowers them to really take advantage of their gifts. To use them.
Photo by Evan Kirby on UnsplashThat news reporter needed a little more material to fill out the story he was trying to tell. Likewise, God invites us to use the gifts He's given us to fill out the story He's telling--but sometimes we don't realize it unless someone points it out to us.
Or, to go with the Biblical analogy, if we hold back, the body of Christ loses out on a hand or an eye or something else it needs to function at 100%.
People who don't know they have something special won't value that aspect of their personalities. They aren't as likely to feel confident enough to step out and use them when the opportunity falls in their laps. They're even less likely to go out and find ways to minister using that special gift.
So, for the sake of the story and the sake of the body of Christ, when you see someone do something well, let them know. Encourage them to continue. Remind them that the skill is a gift from God given to help complete the body, the story He’s writing.
And when God gives you the opportunity to step out and do what you do well, don’t hang back. Each gift is a responsibility and an opportunity.
Photo by Dayne Topkin on UnsplashAs for my opportunity, I won’t say I rocked the interview, but thankfully, using our gifts isn't about perfection. Nothing to do with the faith life is about perfection. It's about a willingness to be used when and how God chooses to do so. We just have to show up, talents surrendered to Christ so He can write the story He wants in our lives, our communities, and our world.
God invites us to use the gifts He's given us to fill out the story He's telling via @emilyrconrad
Title Image Photo by Harry Knight on Unsplash
July 25, 2017
I Am Not the Hero of This Story
by Emily Conrad
Background photo by Justin Veenema on Unsplash
I am not the hero of this story.
That’s why I’ve hesitated to tell it to you; I don’t want a misunderstanding here.
I heard Liz Curtis Higgs speak recently at a writer’s conference, and one of her final instructions to us—the last quote I jotted down—was, “When you tell your story, you cannot be the hero.” I didn’t copy down more, but I listened closely as she told all sixish hundred of us that we could tell stories in which in some way we had stumbled upon doing the right thing for once, but that when we did tell those stories, we must make it clear that the only hero of the story is the One who prompted and enabled and worked through us: Jesus.
So, let me tell you a story about Jesus.
Jesus walks with me and my dog Sadie, and He was there both times when she was attacked by loose dogs. While I’m sure He had lots of reasons for allowing this, one thing He did was use these events to show me how to care for a dog following an attack.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, Jesus and my short attention span were sitting at my computer, and He said, “Why don’t you hop over to Facebook? Just for a minute. I have a post for you.”
(Is a disclaimer is necessary? God is omnipresent, so He's with me on walks and at my computer. But no, I didn't hear an audible voice, so all the dialogue in this post is pure fiction. So is the elbowing that's coming up. However, if God works all things for the good of His people, then I have to believe He was involved in all the details of this story, including my choice to click over to Facebook.)
Toward the top of my feed, I read a post from a woman who attends my church. Her dog had been attacked while they were out for a walk. Other commenters urged her to report the bite, but no one mentioned the importance of vet care when a bite breaks the skin.
Photo by Henry Majoros on Unsplash
Now, the woman and her husband are both in wheelchairs, so I knew that taking the dog to the emergency vet might fall to me. In fact, I realized the decision about whether to get the dog care might also end up in my hands. This seemed like a big responsibility. Was I qualified to handle it?
“Yes! I’ve trained you for this,” Jesus said. “Don’t waste it.”
So, I typed a comment.
From her reply, I learned that finances weren’t available to cover the vet bill. At the time of the initial attack, they hadn’t seen the wound. No information had been exchanged with the other owner, so they couldn’t ask them to cover the expense of the damage their dog had done.
Jesus grinned and elbowed me. “No problem. I already wrote a check to cover this. Remember?”
Earlier that week, my husband had done an emergency car repair for some of our relatives. Overflowing with gratitude (and generosity), they insisted on paying him far more than he told them to.
When we got that check, I specifically thought God was preparing us for an expense. I hoped the expense would turn out to be one of our ongoing house projects, but I couldn’t shake the idea that this money was for something else. Something unexpected.
The part of the check that was over and above the cost of car parts combined with money we’d planned to give to Jesus anyway would cover most, if not all, of the care the dog needed.
So, Jesus had given us our experiences with dog bites, our passion for helping animals, and this check for such a time as this, and He sent us into action.
We (Jesus, my husband, and I) were at the vet until after midnight, waiting for a treatment plan. Because it was so late when we handed the dog over to be picked up in the morning, Jesus instructed the veterinarian to cut the cost of the overnight stay so that the bill came in just $14 under the amount Jesus had provided.
If the story ended there, I would be satisfied. It is a story of Jesus's provision, financially and otherwise.
But the story continues. Jesus arranged for the other owner to find my friend and to commit to paying the vet bill.
Photo by Alvin Balemesa on Unsplash
And so, I’m not the hero of the story. The hero of this story (and any other) is the God who provides for His followers. He uses our hard experiences to equip us to help others. He is more dependable than any check we can cash at the bank.
He has placed us here, with what He’s given us, for such a time as this.
He knows our needs, and no matter what happens with our finances, He has stamped on our deepest debts, the soul debts we could never ever repay, paid in full.
The hero of this story (and any other) is the God who provides via @emilyrconrad
Background photo by Justin Veenema on UnsplashI am not the hero of this story.
That’s why I’ve hesitated to tell it to you; I don’t want a misunderstanding here.
I heard Liz Curtis Higgs speak recently at a writer’s conference, and one of her final instructions to us—the last quote I jotted down—was, “When you tell your story, you cannot be the hero.” I didn’t copy down more, but I listened closely as she told all sixish hundred of us that we could tell stories in which in some way we had stumbled upon doing the right thing for once, but that when we did tell those stories, we must make it clear that the only hero of the story is the One who prompted and enabled and worked through us: Jesus.
So, let me tell you a story about Jesus.
Jesus walks with me and my dog Sadie, and He was there both times when she was attacked by loose dogs. While I’m sure He had lots of reasons for allowing this, one thing He did was use these events to show me how to care for a dog following an attack.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, Jesus and my short attention span were sitting at my computer, and He said, “Why don’t you hop over to Facebook? Just for a minute. I have a post for you.”
(Is a disclaimer is necessary? God is omnipresent, so He's with me on walks and at my computer. But no, I didn't hear an audible voice, so all the dialogue in this post is pure fiction. So is the elbowing that's coming up. However, if God works all things for the good of His people, then I have to believe He was involved in all the details of this story, including my choice to click over to Facebook.)
Toward the top of my feed, I read a post from a woman who attends my church. Her dog had been attacked while they were out for a walk. Other commenters urged her to report the bite, but no one mentioned the importance of vet care when a bite breaks the skin.
Photo by Henry Majoros on UnsplashNow, the woman and her husband are both in wheelchairs, so I knew that taking the dog to the emergency vet might fall to me. In fact, I realized the decision about whether to get the dog care might also end up in my hands. This seemed like a big responsibility. Was I qualified to handle it?
“Yes! I’ve trained you for this,” Jesus said. “Don’t waste it.”
So, I typed a comment.
From her reply, I learned that finances weren’t available to cover the vet bill. At the time of the initial attack, they hadn’t seen the wound. No information had been exchanged with the other owner, so they couldn’t ask them to cover the expense of the damage their dog had done.
Jesus grinned and elbowed me. “No problem. I already wrote a check to cover this. Remember?”
Earlier that week, my husband had done an emergency car repair for some of our relatives. Overflowing with gratitude (and generosity), they insisted on paying him far more than he told them to.
When we got that check, I specifically thought God was preparing us for an expense. I hoped the expense would turn out to be one of our ongoing house projects, but I couldn’t shake the idea that this money was for something else. Something unexpected.
The part of the check that was over and above the cost of car parts combined with money we’d planned to give to Jesus anyway would cover most, if not all, of the care the dog needed.
So, Jesus had given us our experiences with dog bites, our passion for helping animals, and this check for such a time as this, and He sent us into action.
We (Jesus, my husband, and I) were at the vet until after midnight, waiting for a treatment plan. Because it was so late when we handed the dog over to be picked up in the morning, Jesus instructed the veterinarian to cut the cost of the overnight stay so that the bill came in just $14 under the amount Jesus had provided.
If the story ended there, I would be satisfied. It is a story of Jesus's provision, financially and otherwise.
But the story continues. Jesus arranged for the other owner to find my friend and to commit to paying the vet bill.
Photo by Alvin Balemesa on UnsplashAnd so, I’m not the hero of the story. The hero of this story (and any other) is the God who provides for His followers. He uses our hard experiences to equip us to help others. He is more dependable than any check we can cash at the bank.
He has placed us here, with what He’s given us, for such a time as this.
He knows our needs, and no matter what happens with our finances, He has stamped on our deepest debts, the soul debts we could never ever repay, paid in full.
The hero of this story (and any other) is the God who provides via @emilyrconrad
July 20, 2017
An Uncrossable Sea and an Almighty God
by Emily Conrad
Backgroundphoto by Flash Bros on Unsplash
Water sloshes at my feet. Waves break. A sea stretches deep and wide. And then there's me, boatless. It doesn’t matter if the water is choppy or calm. Imagine it how you like. Either way, the expanse is uncrossable.
I’ve been gazing at the sea for some time now, and it seems time to move along, to find a way around or away.
My flight instinct is stronger than my fight and certainly more trustworthy than the butterfly stroke of this floundering dreamer.
God, I don’t know how to move forward. Will you show me? Or spirit me away to a new set of circumstances?
The sea is figurative, the desire to run away, less so. The thought crossed my mind that I ought to move to a new state, but that would only solve some of my problems and would create others. So, I knew God was telling me to stay where I was, at the edge of a sea I cannot cross on my own.
I guess I’m stuck here. At least beauty is in view—I do love water.
But then, as I met with God the morning of a writer’s conference, I felt as though He’d highlighted a verse for me.
“Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters” Psalm 77:19, ESV
Photo by EVREN AYDIN on Unsplash
At the conference, we sang a song that also talked about walking through the sea.
And the Psalm for my reading the next day (78) also talked about crossing the sea.
His way for me is through this sea, not around it. Obstacles as hard to handle as water, which slips through my fingers and would fill my lungs, are at His command. What appears to me to be an uncrossable boundary is a hidden path to freedom. It is His way, a miracle future generations will reference as a sign of His loving care and His provision. If I run, I’ll miss it all. Instead, I must continue, trusting that when I get there, the path beneath my feet will be dry.
His way is through, not around.
The verses leading up to 19 put God’s power into more context:
You delivered your people by your strength
the children of Jacob and Joseph. (Selah)
The waters saw you, O God,
the waters saw you and trembled.
Yes, the depths of the sea shook with fear.
The clouds poured down rain;
the skies thundered.
Yes, your arrows flashed about.
Your thunderous voice was heard in the wind;
the lightning bolts lit up the world;
the earth trembled and shook. Psalm 77:15-18, NET
He is powerful to deliver, and powerful over the natural realm.
As if to hammer home that He had indeed meant verse 19 for me, that He does indeed intend to lead me through the sea, on my way home from the conference, He put on quite a light show.
Storms tracked with us, maybe fifty or a hundred miles to our south as we drove across the state. While stars shown above our minivan, to our right, mountain ranges of clouds flashed with non-stop lightening. First one cloud, then another. A glowing cloud, then another cut by distinct ribbons of light. It moved quickly, mesmerizing, each time beautiful, as if someone were shining a flashlight from side to side in an attic full of the work of old masters, illuminating one masterpiece and then another.
I didn't even try to take a picture or a video. How could a little phone screen capture the power of the almighty God?
Photo by Marc Wieland on Unsplash
His arrows flash about. His lightning lights the world.
If you stand with your toes in the waves, if the far shore is lost in fog, if the whitecaps shush your dreams, rest assured. The sea will not beat you. The God who tends the storehouses of heaven can calm the waves with His word. He is the parter of seas. His way is not around or away from these troubles, but through.
The God who tends the storehouses of heaven can calm the waves with His word-via @emilyrconrad
Backgroundphoto by Flash Bros on UnsplashWater sloshes at my feet. Waves break. A sea stretches deep and wide. And then there's me, boatless. It doesn’t matter if the water is choppy or calm. Imagine it how you like. Either way, the expanse is uncrossable.
I’ve been gazing at the sea for some time now, and it seems time to move along, to find a way around or away.
My flight instinct is stronger than my fight and certainly more trustworthy than the butterfly stroke of this floundering dreamer.
God, I don’t know how to move forward. Will you show me? Or spirit me away to a new set of circumstances?
The sea is figurative, the desire to run away, less so. The thought crossed my mind that I ought to move to a new state, but that would only solve some of my problems and would create others. So, I knew God was telling me to stay where I was, at the edge of a sea I cannot cross on my own.
I guess I’m stuck here. At least beauty is in view—I do love water.
But then, as I met with God the morning of a writer’s conference, I felt as though He’d highlighted a verse for me.
“Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters” Psalm 77:19, ESV
Photo by EVREN AYDIN on UnsplashAt the conference, we sang a song that also talked about walking through the sea.
And the Psalm for my reading the next day (78) also talked about crossing the sea.
His way for me is through this sea, not around it. Obstacles as hard to handle as water, which slips through my fingers and would fill my lungs, are at His command. What appears to me to be an uncrossable boundary is a hidden path to freedom. It is His way, a miracle future generations will reference as a sign of His loving care and His provision. If I run, I’ll miss it all. Instead, I must continue, trusting that when I get there, the path beneath my feet will be dry.
His way is through, not around.
The verses leading up to 19 put God’s power into more context:
You delivered your people by your strength
the children of Jacob and Joseph. (Selah)
The waters saw you, O God,
the waters saw you and trembled.
Yes, the depths of the sea shook with fear.
The clouds poured down rain;
the skies thundered.
Yes, your arrows flashed about.
Your thunderous voice was heard in the wind;
the lightning bolts lit up the world;
the earth trembled and shook. Psalm 77:15-18, NET
He is powerful to deliver, and powerful over the natural realm.
As if to hammer home that He had indeed meant verse 19 for me, that He does indeed intend to lead me through the sea, on my way home from the conference, He put on quite a light show.
Storms tracked with us, maybe fifty or a hundred miles to our south as we drove across the state. While stars shown above our minivan, to our right, mountain ranges of clouds flashed with non-stop lightening. First one cloud, then another. A glowing cloud, then another cut by distinct ribbons of light. It moved quickly, mesmerizing, each time beautiful, as if someone were shining a flashlight from side to side in an attic full of the work of old masters, illuminating one masterpiece and then another.
I didn't even try to take a picture or a video. How could a little phone screen capture the power of the almighty God?
Photo by Marc Wieland on UnsplashHis arrows flash about. His lightning lights the world.
If you stand with your toes in the waves, if the far shore is lost in fog, if the whitecaps shush your dreams, rest assured. The sea will not beat you. The God who tends the storehouses of heaven can calm the waves with His word. He is the parter of seas. His way is not around or away from these troubles, but through.
The God who tends the storehouses of heaven can calm the waves with His word-via @emilyrconrad
July 18, 2017
When God Says I Love You
by Emily Conrad
As I write this, there is an image of a fork topped with cheesy macaroni on the right side of my screen, an advertisement in my Internet browser. The caption reads something like, “Eating this will remind them they really love you.”
My mom complained a few months ago about a commercial for a phone, aimed at mothers, which suggested that by buying your kids a phone, you could get them to think of you often—every time they used the device.
Advertisements are anything but arbitrary. If two large brands throw out a line to buyers with a promise of love squiggling at the end of their hook, they’ve recognized what we’re hungry for, and it’s not dairy-drenched noodles.
The data is in, and it says we’re desperate for love.
Don’t I know it.
It manifests in my quests for perfection and my scrambles to make up for my wrongs. It lurks in my concerns about what the neighbors think and a hesitance to disagree lest I offend someone.
It’s all for approval, acceptance, love.
We cook up batches of pasta and sprinkle them with impossibly orange powder, watching through the steam rising off the bowl for those magic words to form: I love you.
Once spoken, we find the words have a short shelf life. Moldy doubt sours them.
To get a fresh batch, we plunk down half a paycheck to give away a phone and then wait for a notification to light up our own screen with a repeat of the message: I love you.
It doesn’t satisfy.
We were made for more than the kind of love that must be earned or bought, and the One who made us this way isn’t sitting at the table with an empty bowl, waiting to be fed.
Jesus has wrapped himself like a servant and stoops to wash our feet. He offers us bread and wine, His own body and blood, forgiveness, redemption, adoption, belonging.
Jesus isn’t at a distance only willing to call us on our own dime. He reached out long before we were aware of Him. He wrote us a love letter, created us a world. He sings over us, thinks of us, and seeks reconciliation though He is never the guilty party.
He loves us, He loves us, He loves us.
Have you heard Him tell you so lately?
I would’ve said yes to that even a couple of weeks ago, before accepting His invite to spend more time and focus on slowing down with Him, reading and praying. Now that I have accepted that offer, I say yes more emphatically.
He said it to me this weekend when He crossed my path with the paths of women who had the experience to advise me in some situations I face. He repeated it with a Bible verse that gave guidance for how to proceed with my writing career.
And then, today, I got a phone call from someone I met at a conference this weekend. She was calling to thank me for handing her a Bible verse because through it, God spoke to her. The whole thing had been and could only have been orchestrated by the Holy Spirit, and I’m once again in awe of how He pairs those verses--His words that I just jotted down--with just the right person.
You encouraged me, she said, and I want to encourage you. How can I pray for you?
And once again, in that, God borrowed someone else’s voice and words to say it again: I love you, I love you, I love you.
He says it to you, too. He says it in His Word, He says it in Creation, He says it through those around you. Maybe He even says it in the occasional blog post.
Jesus loves you. Unconditionally. No cheesy macaroni or gifts of cell phones required.
If you haven’t heard Him say so in a while, He’s inviting you to sit with Him so He can say it again. And again.
And again.
Jesus loves you. Unconditionally. No cheesy macaroni or gifts of cell phones required. via @emilyrconrad
As I write this, there is an image of a fork topped with cheesy macaroni on the right side of my screen, an advertisement in my Internet browser. The caption reads something like, “Eating this will remind them they really love you.”
My mom complained a few months ago about a commercial for a phone, aimed at mothers, which suggested that by buying your kids a phone, you could get them to think of you often—every time they used the device.
Advertisements are anything but arbitrary. If two large brands throw out a line to buyers with a promise of love squiggling at the end of their hook, they’ve recognized what we’re hungry for, and it’s not dairy-drenched noodles.
The data is in, and it says we’re desperate for love.
Don’t I know it.
It manifests in my quests for perfection and my scrambles to make up for my wrongs. It lurks in my concerns about what the neighbors think and a hesitance to disagree lest I offend someone.
It’s all for approval, acceptance, love.
We cook up batches of pasta and sprinkle them with impossibly orange powder, watching through the steam rising off the bowl for those magic words to form: I love you.
Once spoken, we find the words have a short shelf life. Moldy doubt sours them.
To get a fresh batch, we plunk down half a paycheck to give away a phone and then wait for a notification to light up our own screen with a repeat of the message: I love you.
It doesn’t satisfy.
We were made for more than the kind of love that must be earned or bought, and the One who made us this way isn’t sitting at the table with an empty bowl, waiting to be fed.
Jesus has wrapped himself like a servant and stoops to wash our feet. He offers us bread and wine, His own body and blood, forgiveness, redemption, adoption, belonging.
Jesus isn’t at a distance only willing to call us on our own dime. He reached out long before we were aware of Him. He wrote us a love letter, created us a world. He sings over us, thinks of us, and seeks reconciliation though He is never the guilty party.
He loves us, He loves us, He loves us.
Have you heard Him tell you so lately?
I would’ve said yes to that even a couple of weeks ago, before accepting His invite to spend more time and focus on slowing down with Him, reading and praying. Now that I have accepted that offer, I say yes more emphatically.
He said it to me this weekend when He crossed my path with the paths of women who had the experience to advise me in some situations I face. He repeated it with a Bible verse that gave guidance for how to proceed with my writing career.
And then, today, I got a phone call from someone I met at a conference this weekend. She was calling to thank me for handing her a Bible verse because through it, God spoke to her. The whole thing had been and could only have been orchestrated by the Holy Spirit, and I’m once again in awe of how He pairs those verses--His words that I just jotted down--with just the right person.
You encouraged me, she said, and I want to encourage you. How can I pray for you?
And once again, in that, God borrowed someone else’s voice and words to say it again: I love you, I love you, I love you.
He says it to you, too. He says it in His Word, He says it in Creation, He says it through those around you. Maybe He even says it in the occasional blog post.
Jesus loves you. Unconditionally. No cheesy macaroni or gifts of cell phones required.
If you haven’t heard Him say so in a while, He’s inviting you to sit with Him so He can say it again. And again.
And again.
Jesus loves you. Unconditionally. No cheesy macaroni or gifts of cell phones required. via @emilyrconrad
July 13, 2017
How a Wardrobe Conversation Is Changing the Way I Prepare for Big Events
by Emily Conrad
I’m preparing to attend a conference this weekend. Because it’s a professional event, I (and I’m sure most of the other attendees) feel some pressure to be prepared. I want to have just the right things to say to introduce my work. I want to wear clothes that make a good impression. I want to be in the right place at the right time, to know where I’m going and have it all together.
Various meetings, interviews, and even casual get-togethers can have the same effect on me. Prepare, prepare, prepare.
It sometimes even gets to the point where I have to hold myself back lest I look too prepared.
Read more »
I’m preparing to attend a conference this weekend. Because it’s a professional event, I (and I’m sure most of the other attendees) feel some pressure to be prepared. I want to have just the right things to say to introduce my work. I want to wear clothes that make a good impression. I want to be in the right place at the right time, to know where I’m going and have it all together.
Various meetings, interviews, and even casual get-togethers can have the same effect on me. Prepare, prepare, prepare.
It sometimes even gets to the point where I have to hold myself back lest I look too prepared.
Read more »
July 11, 2017
Hope Is My Middle Name
by Emily Conrad
Hope isn’t my middle name for nothing.
When my sister spoke those words—her middle name is Hope—I got to thinking about how maybe I ought to do more to celebrate my middle name, Rose, which has been passed down to me from my mom.
Gifts from people I love are special to me. Whether physical things or a middle name, they remind me of those I love and relationships that sustain me. So, I’ve always appreciated the history of my middle name, but I haven’t really celebrated it.
I have one little rose bush, and I’m sure I could plant some more. Maybe I will.
But for the first time in my life, I find myself a little bit jealous of my sister’s name. Namesake history aside, I’d rather have hope than roses.
Hope isn’t my middle name for nothing.
When my sister spoke those words—her middle name is Hope—I got to thinking about how maybe I ought to do more to celebrate my middle name, Rose, which has been passed down to me from my mom.
Gifts from people I love are special to me. Whether physical things or a middle name, they remind me of those I love and relationships that sustain me. So, I’ve always appreciated the history of my middle name, but I haven’t really celebrated it.
I have one little rose bush, and I’m sure I could plant some more. Maybe I will.
But for the first time in my life, I find myself a little bit jealous of my sister’s name. Namesake history aside, I’d rather have hope than roses.
July 6, 2017
Celebrating "In Dependence"
by Emily Conrad
This morning is a gift I needed but didn't expect to receive. I am sitting at a table on my patio, sun washing through the neighbor’s five-story-tall pines to glow across my Bible, my wet gardening gloves, the corner of my keyboard, and my wrist.
The request for time like this started when I told my husband I wanted to unbury the patio table from its winter storage space. “Not today, but soon,” I said.
That night, instead, we’d made plans to hike, so hike we did, though we encountered so many mosquitoes it was funny. (I don't like mosquito bites, so this takes takes A LOT of mosquitoes.)
The next night, we helped a couple from our church with their dog, who had been attacked. They, too, needed help I’m not sure they really expected to receive, but we’ve been in similar situations, and so we jumped at the chance to get involved.
Besides, if members of the church can't live in dependence on each other, who can? As Christians, we are supposed to be known for how we love.
So, when the owners were unable to take their dog in for veterinary care, we gladly did it for them. Because dog bites and police reports and emergency vet visits rarely happen at opportune times, we spent the very first minutes of Independence Day sitting in a little exam room with a sleepy dog, waiting for a treatment plan.
The patio table stayed buried.
Read more »
This morning is a gift I needed but didn't expect to receive. I am sitting at a table on my patio, sun washing through the neighbor’s five-story-tall pines to glow across my Bible, my wet gardening gloves, the corner of my keyboard, and my wrist.
The request for time like this started when I told my husband I wanted to unbury the patio table from its winter storage space. “Not today, but soon,” I said.
That night, instead, we’d made plans to hike, so hike we did, though we encountered so many mosquitoes it was funny. (I don't like mosquito bites, so this takes takes A LOT of mosquitoes.)
The next night, we helped a couple from our church with their dog, who had been attacked. They, too, needed help I’m not sure they really expected to receive, but we’ve been in similar situations, and so we jumped at the chance to get involved.
Besides, if members of the church can't live in dependence on each other, who can? As Christians, we are supposed to be known for how we love.
So, when the owners were unable to take their dog in for veterinary care, we gladly did it for them. Because dog bites and police reports and emergency vet visits rarely happen at opportune times, we spent the very first minutes of Independence Day sitting in a little exam room with a sleepy dog, waiting for a treatment plan.
The patio table stayed buried.
Read more »
July 4, 2017
How to Enjoy Summer While It Lasts
by Emily Conrad
I was out for a walk in beautiful June-in-Wisconsin weather and found myself wondering why I lived in a place where summer is so fleeting.
Though my husband and I sometimes daydream about moving elsewhere, even just a little further south so we'd still have four seasons but summer would last longer and winter would be milder, we have our reasons for being here. Our family is here. We do enjoy the four seasons, even if we have our favorites. This is our home, where we grew up and met and married. My husband's job is here. Moving across the country would take a lot more doing than we want to muster right now.
So, we stay in a place where summer is fleeting.
The question then becomes, how can I enjoy it while it's here?
It's already July, and I feel like I've hardly gotten outside, despite using the grill and daily walking my dogs. So, what's squashing my summer, and how can I save it?
Summer Squasher #1: Work
I'm drafting a novel right now, and that tends to take over my thought life and my time. I become obsessive about the story and the characters, but also about meeting word count goals. I also tend to sit at my laptop at my dining table, typing and thinking about typing.
Summer Saver: Resting Outside
After debating over whether it would help or hurt, I finally committed to the Grace Table summer book club, which is reading Rhythms of Rest by Shelly Miller. I did it because I know I ought to have time to read, but I haven't made it happen. Instead, I've been obsessive about accomplishing writing goals.
To actually settle down and read the book I'd invested in for the club, I took my Bible, the book, journal pages, and a pen outside, and I sat there until I'd finished the reading for the day. Being away from my computer made me more conscious of the bird singing and the nice breeze, the growing things, and the summer. And of course the Psalm I read today (Psalm 65--read it!) had to do with how nature praises God and of course the introduction to Rythms of Rest opened with this quote:
"If you keep the Sabbath, you start to see creation not as somewhere to get away from your ordinary life, but as a place to frame attentiveness to your life." Eugene Peterson, The Pastor (as seen in Rhythms of Rest pg 13)
So, there's something about coming to Jesus for the rest He promises and to doing so outdoors.
Summer Squasher #2: Indoor Space
Another part of why I feel disconnected with summer this year, I think, is that we moved into a larger house just over a year ago. The moving and settling process kept us busy last summer, but before that, when the weather turned nice, it automatically meant spending more time outside because there were fewer places to get comfortable inside.
We lived in a tiny house, so most entertaining I did occurred in summer when we used the patio for parties that never would've fit inside. I would also read and write out on the patio, because inside, I only had one or two places where I could do so, and by the time summer rolled around, I'd tired of them.
Summer Saver #2: Prepared Outdoor Space
The prepared part is the important part. We tucked away our patio table and chairs to prepare for this last winter and never brought them out again, so working and eating outside just aren't convenient. And even though we got out our Adirondack chairs, we hadn't cleared the accumulation of other things off our patio, so I didn't feel like there was a nice place to set them up.
This morning, I started the rearranging process, and I'm now typing to you from outside, my second stint out here today, something I wouldn't have done had the space not been prepared for me so that all I had to do was bring out a couple of little things and sit.
Summer Squasher #3: Stale Winter Mindsets
It's easy to get used to staying in, watching Netflix, and basically hibernating when it gets dark at four and is cold all the time. Though I feel summer slipping by, it's easier to continue the same-old-same-old routine than it is to challenge the fact that I'm wasting my summer by failing to change from my winter mindset.
Summer Saver #3: Instigating Adventure
State parks, hiking trails, art festivals, campfires, trips to the lake can make a summer, but they don't happen if no one instigates them. Make plans, put them on the calendar, and get out of the house on an adventure that works in summer like at no other time.
My hope with this one is that by breaking the hibernation habit, some of my adventurous spirit will carry over to winter, because there are plenty of adventures to be had then, too.
Really, this whole thing comes down to habits and mindsets. Maybe you're great at getting out and enjoying your summer, but I think all of us let things slip by underappreciated. Life, and not just summer, is fleeting.
When we feel moments and seasons and opportunities sliding through our grip, it takes a certain kind of focus to identify what's gone wrong and a courage to change our habits. But the reward, a life well-used, a summer savored, is worth the effort of tightening our hold on each of these wild, beautiful, fleeting moments.
How's your summer so far? What are you doing to make the most of it?
A #summer savored is worth tightening our hold on these wild, fleeting moments via @emilyrconrad
I was out for a walk in beautiful June-in-Wisconsin weather and found myself wondering why I lived in a place where summer is so fleeting.
Though my husband and I sometimes daydream about moving elsewhere, even just a little further south so we'd still have four seasons but summer would last longer and winter would be milder, we have our reasons for being here. Our family is here. We do enjoy the four seasons, even if we have our favorites. This is our home, where we grew up and met and married. My husband's job is here. Moving across the country would take a lot more doing than we want to muster right now.
So, we stay in a place where summer is fleeting.
The question then becomes, how can I enjoy it while it's here?
It's already July, and I feel like I've hardly gotten outside, despite using the grill and daily walking my dogs. So, what's squashing my summer, and how can I save it?
Summer Squasher #1: Work
I'm drafting a novel right now, and that tends to take over my thought life and my time. I become obsessive about the story and the characters, but also about meeting word count goals. I also tend to sit at my laptop at my dining table, typing and thinking about typing.
Summer Saver: Resting Outside
After debating over whether it would help or hurt, I finally committed to the Grace Table summer book club, which is reading Rhythms of Rest by Shelly Miller. I did it because I know I ought to have time to read, but I haven't made it happen. Instead, I've been obsessive about accomplishing writing goals.
To actually settle down and read the book I'd invested in for the club, I took my Bible, the book, journal pages, and a pen outside, and I sat there until I'd finished the reading for the day. Being away from my computer made me more conscious of the bird singing and the nice breeze, the growing things, and the summer. And of course the Psalm I read today (Psalm 65--read it!) had to do with how nature praises God and of course the introduction to Rythms of Rest opened with this quote:
"If you keep the Sabbath, you start to see creation not as somewhere to get away from your ordinary life, but as a place to frame attentiveness to your life." Eugene Peterson, The Pastor (as seen in Rhythms of Rest pg 13)
So, there's something about coming to Jesus for the rest He promises and to doing so outdoors.
Summer Squasher #2: Indoor Space
Another part of why I feel disconnected with summer this year, I think, is that we moved into a larger house just over a year ago. The moving and settling process kept us busy last summer, but before that, when the weather turned nice, it automatically meant spending more time outside because there were fewer places to get comfortable inside.
We lived in a tiny house, so most entertaining I did occurred in summer when we used the patio for parties that never would've fit inside. I would also read and write out on the patio, because inside, I only had one or two places where I could do so, and by the time summer rolled around, I'd tired of them.
Summer Saver #2: Prepared Outdoor Space
The prepared part is the important part. We tucked away our patio table and chairs to prepare for this last winter and never brought them out again, so working and eating outside just aren't convenient. And even though we got out our Adirondack chairs, we hadn't cleared the accumulation of other things off our patio, so I didn't feel like there was a nice place to set them up.
This morning, I started the rearranging process, and I'm now typing to you from outside, my second stint out here today, something I wouldn't have done had the space not been prepared for me so that all I had to do was bring out a couple of little things and sit.
Summer Squasher #3: Stale Winter Mindsets
It's easy to get used to staying in, watching Netflix, and basically hibernating when it gets dark at four and is cold all the time. Though I feel summer slipping by, it's easier to continue the same-old-same-old routine than it is to challenge the fact that I'm wasting my summer by failing to change from my winter mindset.
Summer Saver #3: Instigating Adventure
State parks, hiking trails, art festivals, campfires, trips to the lake can make a summer, but they don't happen if no one instigates them. Make plans, put them on the calendar, and get out of the house on an adventure that works in summer like at no other time.
My hope with this one is that by breaking the hibernation habit, some of my adventurous spirit will carry over to winter, because there are plenty of adventures to be had then, too.
Really, this whole thing comes down to habits and mindsets. Maybe you're great at getting out and enjoying your summer, but I think all of us let things slip by underappreciated. Life, and not just summer, is fleeting.
When we feel moments and seasons and opportunities sliding through our grip, it takes a certain kind of focus to identify what's gone wrong and a courage to change our habits. But the reward, a life well-used, a summer savored, is worth the effort of tightening our hold on each of these wild, beautiful, fleeting moments.
How's your summer so far? What are you doing to make the most of it?
A #summer savored is worth tightening our hold on these wild, fleeting moments via @emilyrconrad
June 29, 2017
The Power of "Me, too" Friendships
by Emily Conrad
Two little words have packed a lot of power to encourage me this week: Me, too.
I called a dog trainer for help after my dog was attacked for a second time inside of six months last week. The employee who answered (not the trainer herself) asked me to describe the problem.
I explained that we've put a lot of effort into training Sadie to walk nicely, even when she sees other dogs. And I explained how frustrating it was that despite our work, she's now being attacked and I don't know how to protect her.
I had the same thing happen with one of my dogs, the employee said. The trainer helped me through it, so I'll have her give you a call when she gets in.
And just like that, I had so much more hope, all because of one little sentiment: me, too.
The dog situation is important to me, but it's not as vital to my soul-level well-being as other things, like my writing or my faith or my identity. Whatever power there is in a dog-related me, too statement there's even more punch in a me, too when it comes to those other areas of life.
Read more »
Two little words have packed a lot of power to encourage me this week: Me, too.
I called a dog trainer for help after my dog was attacked for a second time inside of six months last week. The employee who answered (not the trainer herself) asked me to describe the problem.
I explained that we've put a lot of effort into training Sadie to walk nicely, even when she sees other dogs. And I explained how frustrating it was that despite our work, she's now being attacked and I don't know how to protect her.
I had the same thing happen with one of my dogs, the employee said. The trainer helped me through it, so I'll have her give you a call when she gets in.
And just like that, I had so much more hope, all because of one little sentiment: me, too.
The dog situation is important to me, but it's not as vital to my soul-level well-being as other things, like my writing or my faith or my identity. Whatever power there is in a dog-related me, too statement there's even more punch in a me, too when it comes to those other areas of life.
Read more »
June 27, 2017
What If God Is Better Than We Know?
by Emily Conrad
What if God is better than you know, Madeline?
The hero in my work-in-progress asks this question, and I’m thinking about it this morning because of the hard time a friend is experiencing and maybe, too, if I’m honest, because things haven’t been going that well for me, either.
I’m okay. I really am. Except that I’ve noticed the occasional bitter thought pop up in my heart.
I've noticed that sometimes the darkness convinces us that God is less than we believers have made Him out to be.
Though initially grounded in belief in His goodness and love, we drift into thinking of Him as the distant father with the long list of expectations, and topping that list is blind faith that must never be shaken by severe blows. We fall prey to assuming He's a disconnected god who allows evil in our lives in spite, because say, we asked for stronger faith.
Read more »
What if God is better than you know, Madeline?
The hero in my work-in-progress asks this question, and I’m thinking about it this morning because of the hard time a friend is experiencing and maybe, too, if I’m honest, because things haven’t been going that well for me, either.
I’m okay. I really am. Except that I’ve noticed the occasional bitter thought pop up in my heart.
I've noticed that sometimes the darkness convinces us that God is less than we believers have made Him out to be.
Though initially grounded in belief in His goodness and love, we drift into thinking of Him as the distant father with the long list of expectations, and topping that list is blind faith that must never be shaken by severe blows. We fall prey to assuming He's a disconnected god who allows evil in our lives in spite, because say, we asked for stronger faith.
Read more »
