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Letter From a Wise Man

What became of the wise men who worshipped Jesus? After being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they returned to their country by another route, and disappeared from the record of Scripture.

As I studied and pondered their culture, their preparation for the journey, and the certainty about Messiah that drove them more than 600 miles, one question shone like a star:

“Where is the one who has been born King of the Jews?” (Matthew 2:2)

I wondered if that question lingered in the minds of the wise men over the next decades. The following letter imagines how one wise man, whom I have named Samir, might have sought an answer from his long-lost acquaintance in Bethlehem some thirty years later.

The Letter From a Wise Man

A LETTER FROM: Samir of Persia, Tribe of Magi
TO: Benjamin of Bethlehem, Tribe of Judah
DATE: A.D. 34, Spring

Dear Benjamin,

Peace and goodwill to you and your household in Bethlehem.

Some would call this letter a fool’s errand since it has been decades since you and I met. But I’m writing because I’m desperate to know whether you can confirm or deny the disturbing rumor that has reached me here in Persia.

You may not remember me personally. However, I think you will remember our entourage from Persia that camped in your father’s field at the edge of Bethlehem thirty years ago. 

I was 14 years old at the time, and I remember you because you were about my age and boldly vocal. In front of hundreds of foreigners–our soldiers, farriers, cooks, and my father’s fellow Magi–you declared that our horses, with so many brightly colored packs piled on their backs, looked like painted camels. Then you showed our caravan to the open space of your father’s field. 

We had traveled for months to worship Judea’s new king. As Persian Magi, we are responsible for recommending and crowning our kings. Some call us the king-makers. While Judea’s new king didn’t require our approval, we sought to worship him because he was foretold by your ancestor, the prophet Daniel, who saved our entire tribe.

Surely you’ve read the account from centuries ago when our ruler called for his Magi to recount and interpret his nightmare. It was natural that he should consult the wise men of the Magi since our tribe was positioned to help him divine direction by reading the stars. But this was no star-gazing affair. He meant for my ancestors to gaze into his mind and draw out the meaning of what they had not seen or heard. 

It was an impossible task, and when they told him so, our king decreed the execution of the entire tribe. But your God intervened. He revealed the truth of our king’s dream to Daniel, and our entire tribe was spared.

As you can imagine, we have revered and studied Daniel’s writings and the God in Heaven who reveals mysteries. 

So when an unusual star appeared in our land, my father and his fellow wise men understood from Daniel’s scrolls that your God was revealing another mystery: an eternal king had been born in Judea as The King of the Jews.

I saw his star with my own eyes, but it was not charted on the painted star maps in my father’s library. It didn’t rotate around the sky as other constellations did, but it moved. And as it did, we followed it toward Jerusalem. 

After many months of travel, when we finally climbed the hill to the city’s gates, I looked into the night sky, and I did not see the star. For the first time in months, it had disappeared.

As our caravan marched through town, the hooves of our horses and camels echoed off the stone streets and walls like muffled thunder. Jerusalem’s citizens stared at us and flinched at every loud noise. The snort of a horse and the sneeze of a camel sent them scurrying. 

There were no banners announcing the new king, so my father requested a meeting with King Herod. When my father asked where to find the newborn king, Herod knew nothing of it. Herod’s wise men, however, directed us to Bethlehem.

We exited Jerusalem and headed south toward Bethlehem. As we did, we saw the star reappear. It had waited for us just outside the capital city, not scolding us for stopping, but neither endorsing Jerusalem with its light.

In Bethlehem, we did not need to ask where the young King of the Jews lived because his star so clearly rested over one house.

We were welcomed there. The child looked terribly ordinary to me and not much like a king. He ran to his mother when we entered, stretching his arms to be lifted up, and then buried his face in her shoulder. He chewed on his fingers, and his little tunic was wet around the neck. 

My father visited with his, and we presented the gifts we had brought from Persia. I marveled at the number of coins and the volume of the incense and perfume, but the child was indifferent. 

That was the night we met you and took shelter on your father’s land. But before the sun rose, my father had a terrible dream and insisted we leave the pasture in the middle of the night. We were not able to thank your father, so we left a bag of gold where we hoped you would find it when you came looking for us the next morning.

Months later, we were shocked to hear of the massacre of children that occurred in Bethlehem just days after we had left under cover of night. I felt sick. I asked my father if our journey had been the reason for Herod’s madness. He only said that Herod had been mad long before we arrived.

When Herod died later that year, I waited for my father to tell me that the child we had worshiped had been crowned, but the announcement never came, and I feared the worst for King Jesus.

Over the years, I have listened and hoped for news of King Jesus. Was he a victim of Herod’s violence in Bethlehem, or was he somehow spared? Surely your God, who spared Daniel and the Magi, would spare his prophesied king.

But just this week, bittersweet news has finally arrived. One of our traders was in Jerusalem during your country’s Passover celebration. As he was leaving, he passed an execution in progress on a hillside. Three criminals hung on Roman crosses.

This might not have piqued my interest since Rome punishes criminals and dissidents everywhere. But our trader off-handedly mentioned that the man hanging on the middle cross had a plaque nailed above his bloodied head naming his charges: “Jesus of Nazareth: King of the Jews.”

By my calculations of the dates and moons, the crucified Jesus of Nazareth would have been the same age as the child I worshiped in Bethlehem decades ago. 

And now, Benjamin, I have only questions. 

Was this Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, the one we worshiped in Bethlehem? And if he was crowned King of the Jews, why have we never heard of his reign? 

Was he spared in Bethlehem only to be crucified in Jerusalem before taking his place on the throne? 

If this letter has reached you, and you can lend insight, I will be once again indebted to you for any answers you can provide. 

My messenger will wait for your reply and return it to me. I beg for your prompt response.

Sincerely, 

Samir

The Reply 

REPLY FROM: Benjamin of Bethlehem, Tribe of Judah
TO: Samir of Persia, Tribe of Magi
DATE: A.D. 34

Dear Samir,

I remember you, friend. How could I forget? We never had such a caravan camped in our fields again. I found your gold the next morning and delivered it to my father.

But now, as your messenger waits for my reply, I can gladly and quickly answer your questions.

The crucified Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the same king who was born in Bethlehem, just as our prophets foretold. You’ll notice I say he is the same and not that he was the same. He was killed, as your trader correctly reported. He was buried outside of Jerusalem according to our custom, but on the third day—steady yourself, Samir—God raised him from the dead.

And in the weeks following, he appeared alive to more than 500 people at once. My relatives saw him alive. They touched him and ate with him. 

You worried that you were the reason he died. You were—and so was I—but not for the reasons you suppose. The reasons are far worse and yet far better than either of us could have imagined. 

I know it may be difficult to believe, so I beg you to visit me again so I can tell you more. My father is gone, but our home still sits on the edge of the field where you camped. I cannot leave my sheep, but when you come, I will tell you the rest. 

It is good news, Samir. Jesus, the king born in Bethlehem, who grew up in Nazareth and was crucified and raised in Jerusalem, lives and rules today. 

But his kingdom is not of this world as we know it. His kingdom lasts forever, and he is coming to gather those of us who believe him. Your journey to honor him so long ago was not in vain. He is still worthy of our worship.

Believe him, Samir, and I will see you in that kingdom, if not before.

Sincerely,

Benjamin

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The post Letter From a Wise Man appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

What does Thanksgiving have do with the Temptation of Christ?

What does Thanksgiving have to do with the Temptation of Christ?

Well, maybe not much at first glance, but I keep thinking about it after the story I wrote for you last week.

When Jesus was vulnerable, alone, hungry, and tired, he fell back on his Father’s true words and wielded them against the devil’s deceptive suggestions. For Jesus, the way out of temptation and accusation was to quote God’s word to talk back to the devil.

I, on the other hand, am prone to entertain the devil’s reasonable suggestions when I’m weakened by stress or vulnerable because of insecurity.

Just give that person an angry tongue-lashing. Don’t they need to hear it from someone? If not you, then who?

The suggestion seems reasonable.

I’m supposed to speak truth. Isn’t this righteous anger?

Subtle deception always sounds reasonable. In my vulnerability and stress, I’m convinced that a tongue-lashing is exactly what the situation calls for, and instead of talking back to the devil, I end up talking back to God.

“God, make them listen to me!” Spoiler alert: It ends badly.

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What if, instead of talking back to God, I used God’s words to talk back to the devil, not in a way that encourages conversation, but in a way that shuts him up. Like Jesus did.

When I’m tempted to unleash a verbal smack-down, I could refute the devil’s suggestion with God’s truth: “Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires” (James 1:20, NLT).

But what happens when you can’t recall any fightin’ words like that? In the face of temptation, you try to wield “the sword of the spirit which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:17), but you draw a blank.

Maybe you don’t have a 40-year history of Bible reading to draw from. Maybe your memory isn’t sharp. When you open your mouth, nothing comes to mind.

In those instances, followers of Jesus have an ace in the hole. It’s called thanksgiving.

If you don’t know what words to speak in the face of accusation or temptation, start thanking God.

“Give thanks in all circumstances,” wrote the apostle Paul, “for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

When you’re stooping under the weight of an accusation from which Christ has already pardoned you, start thanking God. When you’re tempted to speak when you shouldn’t, thank God for one thing, even if it’s seemingly unrelated to the situation at hand. You’ll feel the grip of temptation and the roar of accusation begin to weaken.

Temptation talks us into relying on ourselves and what we can see. Accusation tells us Christ’s work on our behalf wasn’t enough. But thanksgiving reminds us that every good gift originates from our good and generous God.

Thanksgiving fixes our gaze on Jesus. When I’m looking at Jesus, that high-volume tirade I was about to deliver no longer sounds like righteous anger. It sounds like sin.

Charles Spurgeon wrote, “When I thought God was hard, I found it easy to sin; but when I found God so kind, so good, so overflowing with compassion, I smote upon my breast to think that I could ever have rebelled against One who loved me so and sought my good.” (The Complete Words of C.H. Spurgeon, Volume 41.)

God promised he would not allow us to be tempted beyond what we could stand. When we are tempted to act or believe wrongly, he promises to provide a way out. Sometimes the way out of temptation is to wield God’s words. Sometimes we wriggle out of temptation’s grip by thanking God.

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends. God is glorified by your gratitude.

The post What does Thanksgiving have do with the Temptation of Christ? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

What happens in Heaven when God restrains angels?

Have you ever been reading your Bible and stopped to think, “Woah. I wonder what that was like.”

As part of our fall Bible study, I’d been reading about the Temptation of Christ in the desert. I had that ho-hum feeling I sometimes get that makes me say, “Oh, yeah. I know this one. Three temptations, three scriptural refutations. Check!”

You can roll your eyes at me if you want. I’m rolling my eyes at myself.

Thankfully, my study questions slowed me down, and as I was reading, the scene started to take shape in my mind.

Jesus had just been baptized.

“And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased,” (Matthew 3:17).

It seems like there should have been a reception with cake and a certificate of baptism, but instead of cake, the Spirit led Jesus to a fast:

“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry” (Matthew 4:1).

Jesus was starving to death in the desert, and the devil invited him to do some crazy cliff jumping with no harness to see if God would really do what he promised. Would God “command his angels concerning [Jesus]” so that he wouldn’t suffer harm.

It occurred to me that Jesus was already suffering harm. He was hungry, lonely, and tired, and the devil was taking jabs, “Didn’t your Father say he’d command his angels….” And quite frankly, that’s exactly what God had said:

He will command his angels concerning you,

    and they will lift you up in their hands,

    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

Psalm 91:11-12

But for 40 days, God hadn’t command his angels to prevent harm, and his Son, with whom he was well pleased, languished in the desert.

I started to wonder what kind of pleading was going on in the throne room of God.

Were angels begging for permission to rescue their King?
Were they waiting for a command?
Was God pained to watch this torture unfold on earth?
Did God have to command his angels to stay put?
What kind of divine restraint was required to allow this to continue?

Our Bible study group discussed the story. We noticed how brazenly the devil taunted Jesus in his vulnerable state. We saw how Jesus used God’s word to talk back to the devil and maintained his authority to command the devil to leave him alone. Then we came to the last verse:

“Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him” (Matthew 4:11).

God did what he’d promised. He commanded his angels to attend to Jesus at just the right time.

One woman in our group said, “I wonder what that was like.” I’d been wondering too, so I wrote the scene as I imagined it might have happened.

I hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you’ll notice that suffering isn’t always a result of personal sin, and that God will do what he’s promised at just the right time.

Gabriel stood with his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. He stared through a nearly imperceptible veil separating the throne room of God from the Judean wilderness. From Gabriel’s side, the veil was as transparent as crystal. Nothing obstructed his view.

Gabriel’s Creator, the King he had served from the moment he’d been formed, lay curled at the bottom of a desert ravine, near death. His eyes were sunken and closed, and Gabriel thought he could have passed for a dead man. Gabriel knew better. The time had not yet come.

He turned to Almighty and asked, “Now?”

A voice like rushing waters came from the throne, “Not quite yet.”

They both stared through the thin veil, separating heaven from earth. The King’s lips were cracked and quivering, but Gabriel knew those faint movements weren’t the twitches of a starving man. They were the silent prayers of a Son to his Father. Even as the King prayed, droplets of blood appeared in the cracks of his lips.

Gabriel picked up a jar made of such pure gold that its body was translucent. He dipped it in the River of Life and let it fill.

Michael approached Gabriel at the veil. Together they watched as a dark figure bent over their crumpled King. The King’s eyes flickered open. The dark figure stumbled backward, tripping on a stone. He kicked the stone, and it rolled to a stop near the King’s head. He laughed and taunted.

Gabriel and Michael drew their swords and glanced back at the Almighty, watching for a nod or the lifting of a divine finger.

The weakened King spoke from the earth, but his words echoed in the throne room, “Man does not live by bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”

Gabriel and Michael listened for that word of command to proceed, but none came.

Instead, the throne room began to rumble, and thumping wings stirred the air as angels fell into line behind Michael and Gabriel. Leaves on the Tree of Life rustled, but none fell. Fragrance from its fruit and blossoms floated on the breeze and overpowered the lingering stench of deception wafting in from the desert.

The King had pushed himself up to a sitting position, and the hosts of heaven sighed relief to know he was still alive. The dark figure flew to the top of a mountain, and Gabriel heard him shout, “Throw yourself down! Didn’t your Father say he would command his angels concerning you? You won’t even strike your foot against a stone if your Father tells the truth!”

Michael and Gabriel lunged toward the thin veil at the mention of their angelic order, thinking it was time. Wings thrummed behind them, ready to attend to the King. The veil ruffled in the breeze like a curtain in the wind. Just a breath from the Father and the veil would part.

Gabriel watched the Father, his face creased with focused attention toward his Son. The throne nearly vibrated with power demanding to be released, but the Father restrained his mighty hand for the moment.

The dark figure thrust his own hands under the King’s arms and forced him to stand. The King was dizzy and stumbled to one side as though he may fall, Gabriel reached toward the veil that he might catch him, but a voice like rushing waters restrained him, “Just a moment, Gabriel.”

Gabriel drew back his hand. The veil was hot.

Just as the King had steadied himself, the dark figure whispered, “Bow and worship me.”

Heaven erupted with a rhythmic fervor, and the winged army behind Gabriel chanted, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, the whole Earth is full of his glory!”

The wind of their wings was fierce, whipping Gabriel’s tunic around his feet. The Tree of Life neither bent nor swayed, but the wing-whipped gusts lifted its branches higher, exposing its beautiful fruit. Gabriel longed to pluck a basketful for the King, but for now, the King’s “food” was to do the will of God and endure this test. The time for feasting would come later.

The King stood, staggered, then as though drawing strength from the other side of the invisible veil, he raised his hoarse voice and commanded, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only!'”

Then, like thunder rumbling from the throne came the command, “Go!”

The veil parted just as the King began to fall, and Gabriel and Michael flew to steady him. They each caught an arm so he wouldn’t strike his head or foot against the desert stones.

Throngs of angels rushed through the parted veil, winged attendants finally uncaged. They encircled the King, surrounding him with a protective perimeter, seven angels deep. Gabriel and Michael helped him sit, and the King leaned back against a large rock that seemed fitted to his back. Gabriel offered the golden jar, and the King drank. A few swallows, and he began to choke and cough. Gabriel lowered the jar. The King wiped his mouth with his sleeve and whispered, “A little more.” Gabriel lifted the jar again.

From within the wall of angels came the attendants. One unfurled a linen sheet over the desert floor and invited Jesus to lay or sit upon it, whichever was most comfortable for him. Another brought a basket of bread and a jar of olive oil. One took out a loaf, tore off the end, and dipped it in the oil. She reached into the basket again and drew out a pinch of salt, which she sprinkled on the oil-soaked bread.

She knelt, bowed her head, and held it out to her King.

Gabriel and Michael stood beside the seated King as the angels attended him, meeting his needs. There was a cloth and basin to wash his face and tattered robe and wine and oil to salve wounds the desert had inflicted.

Gabriel marveled as color and strength returned to the King. The angels had walked him back from the precipice overlooking the valley of death. It wouldn’t be the last time the King would have to peer into that dark chasm. Next time, Gabriel knew, they would not be summoned to break the fall.

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Who is Holding on to You?

Who is holding on to you?

On June 9, 2009, we experienced the fishing trip that would ruin all future family fishing trips.

Our boys were getting interested in fishing, but I didn’t particularly care for worms, hooks, or the stench in the laundry after we’d manhandled all manner of smelly creatures. But on this June evening, Kurt was there to handle the slimy things, and he’d received a top-secret fishing tip about where the fish were biting.

It was a good tip. Kurt rigged up poles for the boys, and from the moment the first lure smacked the surface, we had bites. A few family friends happened to be there too, thank goodness, because every sixty seconds, one of the boys needed help reeling in the fish or taking it off the hook.

After Levi’s first catch, the friend helping him asked, “Do you want to hold it?”

Levi smiled and nodded tentatively. Then he reached for the fish.

My sister-in-law was quick with the camera and captured the reality. Levi appeared to (possibly) be holding the fish. Maybe he truly thought he was, but the photo tells the truth.

Someone else was holding the fish.

When I ran across that photo, it reminded me of another fisherman named Peter. In a boat full of fish that was sinking his boat, Peter got his first glimpse of Christ’s power. Jesus could do what Peter could not, so Peter left everything on the shore and followed him (see Luke 5:1-11).

Three years later, after Peter had denied Jesus and Jesus had been crucified and then raised to life, Peter found himself on the same lake with his nets full of fish…again (see John 21:1-6).

It turns out that while Peter was bewildered and trying to catch fish, Jesus was doing the work. In a way, Jesus was holding the fish.

Are you trying to hold yourself together? Are you straining to hold your family together? Are you working long hours to hold a job you can’t afford to lose?

Who is doing the work of holding you?

In a book titled Gentle and Lowly, author and pastor Dane Ortland provides this illustration:

“When my two-year-old Benjamin begins to wade into the gentle slope of the zero-entry swimming pool near our home, he instinctively grabs hold of my hand. He holds on tight as the water gradually gets deeper. But a two-year-old’s grip is not very strong. Before long, it is not he holding on to me but me holding on to him…So [it is] with Christ. We cling to him, to be sure. But our grip is that of a two-year-old amid the storm waves of life. [Christ’s] sure grasp never falters” (Gentle and Lowly, page 65).

Most children instinctively cling to their parents at the door of the nursery, the daycare, or the dentist. A mother might even bear the faint scars of little fingernails dragged across her neck as her little boy was unwillingly peeled away.

But when that same boy wants to sprint into the Walmart parking lot, the strong mother clings to the child to hold him fast.

When you feel like you’re losing your grip, who is holding you?

We get a few clues from the writers of the Psalms.

[The Lord] reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.
 He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me .

Psalm 18:16, NIV

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast .

Psalm 139:9-10, NIV

When my health is tenuous, He will hold me fast.When my family fractures, He will hold me fast.When people pronounce judgment without knowing the facts, He will hold me fast.When exhaustion cuts me down, He will hold me fast.

Then, in Isaiah, we hear it from God himself:

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10, NIV

How he holds us and by what means he provides strength is completely up to him. We can trust him because we are upheld by his good and righteous hand.

When certainty slipping from your grasp, when people you have loved start squirming from your hand, remember, Someone Else is holding on to you.

He will hold you fast.

If you need a musical reminder to drill this stabilizing truth deep into your heart and mind, do yourself and favor and listen to Keith & Kristin Getty remind you who is holding you.

The post Who is Holding on to You? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Of Remarkable Hope and Beacons of Fire

Our guest today is Heidi Viars, writer, photographer, wife, mother, and follower of Jesus. Originally from Germany, she now lives in Wisconsin where she writes on her blog about her rescuing Savior and posts photos of the beauty he’s created.

When I saw the cover of the German version of Remarkable Hope, I contacted Heidi to ask her to translate. There was a campfire drawing on the cover, and I was a little confused. But as soon as Heidi translated the title for me, I understood. And you will too after reading her story below.

Translations can be tricky.

When I first came to the United States over thirty years ago, I had my share of translation mishaps. Some were hilarious, others embarrassing. Some misunderstandings were downright dangerous, like the time I didn’t grasp the concept of “hard” lemonade and opened one in the store parking lot. I bought the expensive treat on a grocery errand, and I thought “hard” meant organic. I stuck the bottle in my cup holder and sipped on my ignorance all the way home.  

When we move thoughts from one language to another, the meaning and original intent can easily get lost. However, I found the opposite to be the case when I saw the cover of Remarkable Hope in German. In reading the title, Leuchtfeuer der Hoffnung (Beacon of Hope), powerful images flooded my mind. The German word “Leutchfeuer” is a compound noun. It’s made of light and fire. While the meaning is translated into “beacon,” the word-for-word translation, light-fire, has much more depth. 

In English: Light-fire (or Beacon) of Hope: On the Road with People of the Bible

I remembered Samwise in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and how he climbed the side of a mountain, intent on setting a fire to communicate hope to allies far away. Then, I thought of Simone, my wonderful German friend. I wished we could have read this together. Within the short time we knew each other, she challenged me to let God use my knowledge of German as a beacon of hope for her, to set a light and a fire. 

I met Simone a little over a year ago at an outdoor church service during the pandemic. In the previous months, many of us had grown weary of the church’s live feed on Sunday morning. We longed for an in-person gathering. Now, the park was filled with strangers and regular church attendees. Despite the awkwardness and distance, we all enjoyed connecting with people in face-to-face conversations.

I was about to sink into my camping chair when a friend waved me down. Six feet behind him followed a stout woman I did not recognize.

“Hey Heidi, have you met Simone? She is from Germany,” he said.

Simone, a mature blond, politely waved her hand as if to shake it and smiled, “Hallo. I am Simone.” Her words were wrapped in a strong German accent. “You know this church is not very friendly,” she whispered. I felt a tinge offended. I had been on the welcoming team for years and prided myself in making newcomers feel at home.

However, I admired her straightforwardness and that she did not care about her accent. I had always felt insecure when people asked me where I was from as soon as they picked up on my mispronounced words.

We decided to talk more after church.

We talked a lot. Over the course of the following year, our relationship grew into a deep friendship. We were grateful to share life in our native heart language. Simone, in her early sixties, told me about changes she wanted for her life and her deep desire for God. She was curious about our church and what we believed. She had endless questions about the validity of the Bible, doubt and faith, and most of all, salvation.

Her questions made me dig deep into my own beliefs. When she came to our mid-week Bible study, she found women eager to make her comfortable. Eventually, everyone came to love her for her honesty, her sincere questions, and her kind and generous heart. We gladly ate the German treats she brought to our study. With sticky fingers, we helped her peel open the tightly stuck-together pages of her new Bible.

Then one day, while sitting at my dining room table, over some German cake and coffee, she decided to give her life to Christ. It was the first time I had prayed in German with anyone who wanted to surrender to Jesus. I came to faith in my mid-twenties while living in the U.S., and I learned about a relational God in English, my second language. I had to dig up German vocabulary, which had been tucked away in my heart all those years. Visiting with Simone challenged me and made me think about how to communicate faith in my mother tongue. The more I spoke, the easier those words came. Soon I felt something break in my soul–a deep understanding of God’s desire to use my knowledge of German.

 About six months into Simone’s new life in Christ, things unraveled for her whole family. Her husband also had come to faith in Christ just before their lives were turned upside down. As if the script had been taken straight from the book of Job, bad news seemed to come daily. Family and home, jobs and pets, all were affected.

“Why is this happening? We just gave our lives to Jesus? Is it because we trusted Him?” Simone asked. I had no answers to her questions.

One day, after some medical tests to find out why she had been experiencing severe pain, Simone heard the worst news yet.  

Liver metastases. Secondary liver cancer. Stage four colon cancer.

The prognosis was grim and brought even more questions. I had fewer answers. During those days, we both were driven deeper into the Scriptures and closer to the heart of Jesus. We spoke and prayed in German even more frequently than before.

“It feels good to speak from the heart,” she said in German. Her doubt, like her cancer, was trying to consume her.  

Slowly I saw God’s plan of hope unfold. He was using my faith and our common language to do a greater work in both of us. I realized it wasn’t what we had in common that brought her comfort, but who we had come to know. We saw how God had drawn her and her husband to Himself to prepare them for the trials ahead. Before her suffering began, Jesus was well aware that Simone and her husband needed to know the God who was with them. By his grace, God had revealed himself at just the right time.

In the last chapter of Remarkable Hope, Shauna invites us to travel alongside two disciples on the road to Emmaus. The friends leave the city of Jerusalem heartbroken, believing their master is buried in a tomb. They have more questions than answers. Hadn’t Jesus said he would never leave them? Why did he have to die? How could he be the Savior if he couldn’t even save himself?

While they were walking away from uncertainty back to what they knew, Jesus appeared to them. The Scriptures say they were kept from recognizing him. In his supernatural disguise, Jesus spoke to the friends about himself and how he is revealed in all the Scriptures. After he ate with them, they saw clearly who this stranger was and they were overcome with joy. Looking back on their conversation, they realized his words and presence had set their hearts ablaze—he had set a light and a fire by his presence.

When I remember Simone’s hard, painful walk, I realize I have limited answers. But while we were all trying to understand, Jesus made himself known to us through the Scriptures. He gave Simone a friend who spoke her heart language. He used my insecurities and questions to point to himself. He surrounded her with a group of loving friends. And through his word and work, Jesus was present in the trial with Simone. What a God! He takes the smoldering disappointments in our hearts and sets them afire – not only for our own good but also for the good of anyone who watches.

I think Simone would have loved reading Remarkable Hope in German. I smile, thinking about how we could have read it together. But she is gone now, experiencing what I long for, namely seeing Jesus face-to-face. I am left to look around at a world that needs light and fire more than ever. It still needs Jesus and his people to bring his remarkable hope – in the U.S. and in Germany.

I have lived in the United States for over three decades. In that time, I have learned much about the English language. But through my friendship with Simone, I have also learned that God is willing to use whatever we offer him, even our greatest insecurities about how we speak and which language we use.

I’m grateful Simone helped me embrace my first language and share Christ through it. And because of Jesus, I have a light-fire of hope—a distant beacon of assurance—that someday Simone and I will visit again in the presence of Jesus with people from every tribe, tongue, and nation.

The post Of Remarkable Hope and Beacons of Fire appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Need a New Bible Study this Fall?

For two-thirds of my life, my schedule has been controlled by the school calendar. I graduated from college in May, and when the next August rolled around, I had an unexpected sense of dread. Then I remembered, “Hey, I graduated. August doesn’t change anything for me!”

It was a revelation.

But even if the traditional school schedule rhythms don’t influence your schedule, August still signals the start of something new.

If your Bible Study or Book Club is looking for a new book to study this fall, I’ve created some supplemental material for Remarkable Hope that will make it easy (and fun!) to read with a group.

If you have placed your hope in Christ but feel sucker-punched by life, Remarkable Hope offers biblical assurance of God’s promises, no matter your situation.

As you learn how Jesus revives hope, you will:

Gain confidence in God’s good plan for you.Learn how Jesus transforms devastation into renewed hope.Find a purpose and plan for the struggle you’re facing.Revive your hope through inspiring Bible stories, instructive reflections, and guided prayers.

​You’ll be transported to the scenes where Jesus restored hope to the hopeless. When Mary and Martha lead Jesus to Lazarus’ tomb, and when Jairus begs the Savior to hurry, you’ll be shoulder to shoulder with them, witnessing Christ’s miracles.

Christ’s tenderness to them will shed a hopeful light on your own disappointment. You’ll gain confidence in God’s unseen plan for your life and be reminded of his enduring presence.

For anyone who has tasted bitter disappointment yet longs for the sweetness of promises fulfilled, Remarkable Hope will lead you to the certainty of hope that does not disappoint.

When the book was released, I hosted an online book club on Facebook for my launch team, where we discussed each chapter. I shared some thoughts that I didn’t include in the book, and I talked about why I made certain creative choices when retelling the stories.

One member of my launch team said, “These videos are so valuable! I hope you’ll make them available to all your readers.”

I thought that was a great idea, and I ended up recording a short video for each chapter with my iPhone right here in my office. I also created a book discussion guide.

The best part? It’s all free!

If you’re looking for a new book for your Bible study or book club to start this fall, sign up below, and I’ll email you the free goodies:

10 videos, one for each chapter (5-8 minutes each)Discussion guide for individuals or groups (3-5 questions per chapter)Printable bookmarkPrintable wall art of Romans 12:12 (8×10”—Mine is framed in my kitchen)Spotify playlist with hopeful songs curated by me6-Day YouVersion Bible App Devotional—Jesus Revives Hope

Your group will only need to purchase the book.

When I’m searching for a study for a Sunday School class or Bible study, I always prefer short videos by the author because it leaves time for group discussion. And that’s where the real-life, boots-on-the-ground fellowship happens. It’s how women get to know one another and point each other towards Jesus in specific ways.

I visited one such group in June. They had been meeting over Zoom for eight weeks, and about half of them had never met in real life. They invited me to visit their first post-lockdown, in-person meeting, and it was a tremendous honor.

It was a gift to see how God is working to draw women to himself, IN REAL LIFE! Jesus was not locked down for a moment! And I could see the evidence sitting around the table.

Whether you’re in person or on Zoom, you can get all the free goodies here. (Even if you just want to preview them to see if it’s right for your group.)

​If I can help you facilitate a group in any way, please contact me at shauna@shaunaletellier.com. I respond to every email I receive.

The post Need a New Bible Study this Fall? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Bad Endings, Fake News, & Good Stories

One of the worst story endings I’ve ever read was served up to me last year in a long-awaited novel.

I had high hopes, but when I read the final pages, I thought, “Pfffft! That’s ridiculous. That would never happen.” One element of the ending was so unbelievable that I felt irritated.

I’ve never written a novel, and I know storytelling requires a boatload of creativity and mental stamina, So the fact that I had the gall to criticize probably says more about me than this author. But in any case, I was sorely disappointed.

Did the author’s deadline creep up too quickly?

Was the author simply trying to please a certain segment of readers?

Why did the editor allow it?

A thousand factors might have influenced it, but this storyteller wasn’t the first to get eye-rolls when the conclusion seemed far-fetched.

This week, I was reading a Bible story, and it occurred to me that the the original audience must have had the same kind of reaction. Pfft! That would never happen.

If we’d heard that same story on the news this week, it might have sounded like this:

Authorities responded to an altercation between two men in the 700 block of South Palace Street. Witnesses said 43-year-old Sam Swindel approached his former coworker, Bill Bower, with raised fists. Shouting ensued.

A friend of the victim stated, “The guy was shouting in Bill’s face, and he was like, ‘You owe me for that burger I bought you last week.’ He shoved Bill to the ground, and Bill was on his hands and knees saying, ‘I’m gonna pay you back, but I don’t have cash, man!”

When authorities arrived, Swindel had Bower by the neck, and bystanders were attempting to separate the two men.

Swindel was a long-time employee of King’s Corporation. Executives at the company told police they recently discovered $30 million of unapproved expenses charged by Swindel over the last three decades.

When asked how such an amount had gone undetected, executives declined to comment.

Lawyers for the CEO and investors first demanded that Swindel be fired and sentenced to life in prison. His garnished prison wages were to be paid to King’s Corporation. Swindel pled guilty but asked to be acquitted.

Because of the perennial success of King’s Corporation, and because lawyers previously believed Swindel posed no threat to society, the CEO and King’s Corporation investors dropped all charges. After the boardroom confrontation, Swindel left the building of his own accord.

With neither debt nor jail time hanging over his head, authorities are still investigating the motive behind his violent attack on his former coworker.

In a statement to the media, the chief investigation officer confessed, “We have no idea what Mr. Swindel’s motives were.”

One bystander speculated, “Maybe he just wanted a burger.”

Fake News by Fake Reporter, Shauna Letellier

If that isn’t a confounding ending, I don’t know what is. And guess who told that story?

Jesus.

You’ve probably read the first-century version in Matthew 18, which my Bible calls “The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant.”

Those first-century listeners must have been shaking their heads, saying, “Pfft! That would never happen.”

But in a spiritual sense, it happens every day.

When Peter asked how many times he was required to forgive his brother, Jesus answered with the story of The Unforgiving Servant.

I sometimes wonder if Peter was literally talking about Andrew. They were business partners and ministry partners. A quick glance around your community will tell you that relationships are often sacrificed on the altars of business and ministry. Was Peter was sick of dealing with Andrew. Did he want Jesus’ permission to write him off? Or was there another Christian brother that was grating on Peter’s last skinny nerve?

While Jesus’ math gave Peter a number (70 x 7 = 490), the absurdity of counting forgiveness implies that Jesus was saying, “Peter, don’t waste your time keeping track of your own benevolence. It doesn’t end well.’”

Jesus told this same story repeatedly, but the settings were different, and the endings are always somewhat obscured.  

The Prodigal Son humbled himself and fled from his foolishness. His Benevolent Father threw a party upon his return. What became of the Prodigal after the party? How did he treat his father? How did he handle his chapped brother?

A half-dead man lying on the side of the Jericho Road received emergency medical attention and two months of food and lodging from someone he hated. How did he treat his enemy after he was discharged?

Do you see yourself in any of these stories?

I see myself slumped over that board room table, my heart throbbing and my face flaming with embarrassment. I am responsible, and I can never repay. I may promise the impossible, “I will pay you back!’ but everyone present sees my desperate delusion.

I need mercy.

Whether it’s three decades of embezzlement, short-sighted unforgiveness, or self-righteous pride, our benevolent Savior suffered our sentence and canceled our debt when he died in our place.

But the true story of redemption doesn’t end there.

When the charges are dropped, and the irreconcilable ledger sheets are shredded, what’s my next move?

What’s yours?

Let’s lose track of our own goodness and keep track of God’s goodness to us in Christ. His mercy has resolved the impossible conflict, and his grace guarantees eternity. The time in-between is for demonstrating how mercy frees us from keeping track, and grace propels us to forgive as we have been forgiven. And that makes for a satisfying end to the story.

The post Bad Endings, Fake News, & Good Stories appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Learn THRICE at VBS

The famous French essayist Joseph Joubert wrote, “To teach is to learn twice.”

I have found it to be the absolute truth. Not only does the teacher learn it once for herself and again when she teaches, she remembers the truths longer and perhaps more accurately after she’s served them up to her class.

Last week, I had the stressful privilege of teaching Vacation Bible School at our church. I already knew the familiar Bible Stories—Jonah and the Whale, David and Goliath, and several others—but as I revisited them in my own Bible, I learned again.

I might take issue with Joubert and argue that “to teach is to learn thrice,” because I also learned a few things from the kiddos I was teaching while we discussed these overfamiliar Bible stories.

Vacation Bible School (VBS), on the surface, is an exercise in endurance. By the end of the week, the volunteers, kids, children’s ministry budget, and the collective creativity of all involved are tapped out. When it’s over on Friday afternoon, everyone needs a substantial lunch and a long nap.

Years ago, a single day of leading the three-year-old class actually sent me into premature labor (Not to worry. I stayed home the rest of the week and carried Levi to term ).

I won’t sugarcoat the challenges. It’s tough to get kids to VBS on time and corral 22 preschoolers in the church hallway. It takes supernatural patience to deal graciously and compassionately with “that child” who seems old enough to know better.

But there are also tremendous rewards. I often leave VBS feeling certain that I learned far more than any of the kids. Of course, the lessons are ultimately from God, but sometimes they come from the mouths, and faces, of children.

Here are just a few of the lessons I learned from the kids while teaching Bible stories at VBS.

​Sin Sucks the Air Out of the Room.

I don’t enjoy talking or teaching about sin, and I’d be initially suspicious of any teacher who claimed to like it. It feels a bit dangerous because, as a teacher of Bible stories, you’re automatically granted some degree of authority whether you deserve it or not. Kids tend to believe what you say, so you better make sure you’re telling the gospel truth. In Jesus’ words, a teacher would be better off at the bottom of the ocean than upon land, if they’re leading children away from the truth.

So when we talked about sin, I tried to keep it close to their own experience. We mentioned lying to your parents, being hateful to siblings, and looking at someone else’s paper at school to get an answer you don’t know. In every session, the room went quiet. One second-grade girl in the front row looked at me as if to say, “How did you know?”

Such sins might make adults snicker. After all, we’re personally familiar with “far worse sins.” But in their semi-innocent elementary minds, children are able to recognize their own failings.

As I left my classroom that day, it occurred to me that I would do well to take a cue from the second graders. I must take seriously the fact that I, too, even as an adult, have lied, been mean-spirited, and cheated.

I prayed that recognition of my own sin would suck the air out of my lungs so that I might become desperate to inhale the fresh, life-giving air of God’s grace and forgiveness.

Heaven is Better than Even THAT.

After gasping for the fresh air of God’s forgiveness and grace, we talked about being with Jesus forever.

It’s hard for adults to wrap their heads around eternity with Christ and without sin. When I try to imagine it, I fall back on the verse, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9, NLT)

So when I showed the kids a golden rendering of what one artist thought heaven might be like, it seemed somewhat unconvincing. “Streets of gold” would certainly be an interesting tourist attraction, but they don’t seem like a compelling reason to stay for eternity.

After looking at the picture, one child asked with serious interest, “Will there be Prank Week in heaven?” His facial expression told me he thought Heavenly Prank Week would be a fun and enjoyable way to pass the time.

Since I have always hated April Fool’s Day and pranks of every kind, I was tempted to wax eloquent about kindness and truth, but I was reminded that I asked a similar question when I was his age.

My dad died when I was young, so my family talked about heaven often. It’s where our daddy was living, after all.

I remember asking my mom, “In heaven, will I be able to have all the Cabbage Patch Kids I want?” In 1982, Cabbage Patch Kids were all the rage. Crazed parents were duking it out in the parking lot of Toys-R-Us to get their hands on a doll. Some of my friends had four or five Cabbage Patch Kids, so I imagined their parents must have had tons of money or else they had been in multiple parking lot fistfights.

I had one Cabbage Patch Kid doll, but they were apparently so valuable, I wanted more. Surely heaven would allow me all the dolls!

My mom didn’t shame me for asking or for wanting something so ridiculously temporal. She didn’t scold me for being a greedy American brat. She didn’t even turn my attention to the impoverished kids who had so much less than I did. She simply let me dwell on the best possible thing I could imagine at that moment, and then she said, “Heaven will be even better than that.”

Will there be a Prank Week in heaven? I highly doubt it. But instead of saying so, I told him, “Heaven will be far better than that.”

I was glad to remember that no matter what our minds can conceive, an eternity with Christ will be good beyond imagination.

​Marveling at God’s Greatness is a Marvelous Response.

On the final day, we studied the story of David and Goliath. It’s so familiar. I sometimes wonder if it’s worth rehashing. Turns out, it is.

Goliath was a warrior champion, or so everyone at the battlefield thought. All the signs pointed towards the likelihood of Goliath’s victory and David’s defeat. Even King Saul had his doubts about David’s odds for success. The King gave him ill-fitting armor to increase his chances of survival, but David couldn’t walk in it, much less move with the agility that would surely be needed in an ancient duel.

As it turns out, David’s goal wasn’t to make a hero of himself; it was to show the world that the One True God can defend and care for people who trust him. David trusted God when no one else did.

When the story ended, the children knew that neither Goliath nor David was the champion. They knew God was the champion and that he cares for his children.

One little girl in the second row sat staring at me, smiling with the satisfaction of knowing that the One True God, who defeated sin and death, is her champion. He made her smile.

And it made me smile, because her smile was evidence of the worship happening in her heart at that moment, and that makes God smile too.

There are a zillion figurative and physical headaches involved in planning and teaching Vacation Bible School. But the rewards are breathtaking. If you want a front-row seat to those beautiful, expressive faces–some of them hearing the old, old stories for the very first time–slip into a class at your church’s VBS and look for the goodness of God.

You might learn something new (or for the third time) from the little learners beside you.

The post Learn THRICE at VBS appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

What’s that smell?

Last week I took my regular walk down to the water. I rounded the curve, and the expansive lake spread out before me.

Sometimes I round that curve, and the breeze blowing up the shore carries the most unappealing smells. Often, I smell a rotting carcass, and as the smell gets stronger, I inevitably see a dead carp bloating in the sun. There’s a garbage can close to the dock, and a nauseating cocktail of odors seep from under its fitted metal lid. When the lake is low, a quarter-mile of soggy shale emits a stale and muddy stench.

But on this particular day, I rounded the corner and walked into an invisible wall of fragrance.

What is that smell? I wondered.

I took a big deliberate whiff just to savor it. The fragrance completely overwhelmed the normal odors—no hint of stagnant water or decaying plants—just a sweet, invisible scent.

Nature’s perfume swirled in the air, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Tiny leaves had just started to uncurl themselves on branches, so it took me a minute to realize I was smelling the brand-new baby buds of the shrub-like plumb trees lining the road.

The old country song, “If I could bottle this up, I could make a million…” ran through my head.

I stepped into the ditch, pulled a little branch to my nose, and inhaled. And here, words fail me. It smelled so good. I was walking alone that day, and I thought, “I wish someone were here to smell this with me!”

I thought about breaking off a twig and taking it back to the house, but I knew my boys would be less than impressed since we have a whole row of plums on our fence line. They’re a distance from the house, so maybe that’s why I never smell them.

A few days later, the buds were fully open and it the air still smelled divine! See more of my lake views here.

I stepped back onto the road without a show-n-tell branch and thought, “Too bad you can’t send a smell over social media.” Then I immediately wondered how long it would be before Apple devises a way to add a scent library alongside their GIF and emoji libraries. It turns out it’s already been attempted.

Fragrances and odors coexist, but isn’t it interesting that pleasing scents can mask, mitigate, and even overwhelm the stink?

I suppose that’s why Paul refers to the gospel as a fragrance.

“God uses us to make the knowledge about Christ spread everywhere like a sweet fragrance”

2 Corinthians 2:14, (GNT)

Fragrance is a hidden alert and invitation to investigate, and Paul says that believers are the fragrance dispensers. We are like shrubs in various stages of blooming with buds of the fruit of the spirit. Whether the buds are just popping or the flower has opened, Christ’s work in us inevitably emits the fragrance of the gospel that invites folks to investigate.

I suppose that’s also why we’re encouraged to, “Be ready at all times to answer anyone who asks you to explain the hope you have in you” (1 Peter 3:15, GNT).

When people smell the hope of the gospel, they are compelled to ask questions. Our job is to graciously, gently, and respectfully explain what Jesus has done for us and in us. 

The good news of Jesus is a sweet aroma powerful enough to overwhelm the stench of despair, pride, loneliness, and fear. In a world full of odors, gospel fragrance dispensed by believers is an unexpected relief.

As we simply point to the source of the fragrance, we are sharing Jesus. It doesn’t feel like an engineered evangelistic program akin to Apple’s scent-sharing library. It’s a natural delight that honors God, magnifies Jesus, and offers peace to anyone brave enough to ask, “What’s that smell?”

When did you first “smell” the fragrance of “the knowledge of Christ?” 

What did you experience that made you want to investigate the source?

The post What’s that smell? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

How to Flourish with a Sink Full of Dishes

Mothers day is just around the corner, and it is my pleasure to welcome to the blog one of the most insightful mothers I know. Emily Allen is the founder and visionary behind KindredMom.com, an online community and podcast dedicated to helping women find joy and purpose in motherhood. She is the mother of seven, and she is forever marked by the rescue and redemption Jesus Christ has accomplished in her life.

You’ll love her right away.

She and her team have written a book that would make a fabulous gift for yourself or a mom in your life for Mother’s Day, and she’s graciously shared an adapted excerpt with us today.

“I show up at the sink to an insurmountable pile of dishes. Nothing is scraped. Nothing is sorted. My limited counter space is overrun with remnants of our previous two meals—room-temp food, wadded up napkins between plates, stray silverware, and pans that need to be soaked. I pause and take a deep breath, aware that the only way to get out of this mess is to travel through it, bit by bit, plate by plate.

To my left, worship music plays softly through the Bluetooth speaker inside the cupboard of drinking glasses. I swing the cabinet door open so melodies can surround my weary soul as I swipe plates with a sponge and place them into the dishwasher. I’m hoping the cares I’ve brought to the kitchen will wash down the drain along with the bits of food I scrape into the disposal.

I’ve never been great at staying ahead of the mayhem, and as we’ve added kids to our family, it has become increasingly difficult to keep a tidy kitchen (let alone a tidy house). Most of the time I hobble along, performing whatever damage control is necessary to get through the day. Despite my best efforts, I constantly feel like our home is in disarray.

Like my kitchen, I am a mess inside—anxious, easily irritated by the squabbles of seven spirited children, weighed down by worries common to mothers everywhere.

Not a single thing I do in the course of a day leads to a satisfying end. I always have more toys to pick up, more laundry loads to flip, and more dishes to wash.

I turn up the volume loud enough to drown out the normal sounds of the kids, but not so loud I won’t be able to hear if an emerging situation requires my attention. Words of hope fill my ears, and the music draws me into another world. I replace noise with noise, but the worshipful words are a solace and an invitation to quiet my heart before God while my hands do the work they know. I am transported to a place where I am both physically present in an ordinary kitchen task and attentive to a deeper exchange between His spirit and mine.

When I show up at my kitchen sink, God shows up, too.”

~Excerpt adapted from “Worship at the Kitchen Sink” by Emily Sue Allen; this is an essay from Strong, Brave & Beautiful: Stories of Hope for Moms in the Weeds by writers from KindredMom.com

BUY NOW

Maybe it’s the fact we have nine people living in our house, but it seems to me like there are always piles of dishes in my sink––even if I just finished doing all the dishes. The constant nature of the food cycle––prepare, serve, store, cleanup––is just one of many duties of caregiving that has required more energy than I typically have in reserve…not to mention I’d rather be reading, walking, or doing something creative with my time.

Still, I have come to believe it is a grace from God to draw me back to that humble place at the kitchen sink to repeat the same simple steps every day––a living liturgy to remind me that strength is cultivated by faithfulness. This simple, ordinary cycle is more than a hum-drum task meant to wear me out.

This basic household routine is part of a greater reality: faithfulness is required for flourishing.

For me, it’s less about the dishes and more about the truth of servanthood. Serving my family is not always gratifying. Sometimes it is mundane. Sometimes it is annoying. But when I set aside my boredom and annoyance to do what is needed, I can see the purpose in my service. I am nourishing my children’s hearts and bodies.

I am modeling a good work ethic and what it looks like to care about basic needs with love. I am expanding my children’s understanding of the effort involved in serving them, and I’m teaching them––meal after meal––how to be grateful.

I am empowering my older children to join me in the process of scraping, rinsing, and putting away dishes, demonstrating how we all should be moving toward age-appropriate responsibility for the stewardship of our lives.

I will still let out a sigh when I see the next obnoxious pile of dishes taunting me from my kitchen sink, but that won’t stop me from getting my hands wet to repeat the cleaning process yet again. This is about more than dishes. This is how God grows my character.

In the humble and repetitive chores of caregiving, I am reminded that God continually cares for me. He strengthens me to do what is necessary. He equips me as challenges arise, and He stays with me even after the clean dishes are put away.

When I faithfully serve my family, God nourishes me for the tasks and produces a flourishing life in my family and in me.

I was thrilled to be asked to endorse Emily’s book, and it was my great pleasure to do so.
Get a copy here for a mom you love.BUY BRAVE STRONG & BEAUTIFUL NOW

The post How to Flourish with a Sink Full of Dishes appeared first on Shauna Letellier.