Autism, Adoption, and a Daily Dose of Humble Pie Blog Archive Feed

More Jesus

Sun, 15 Jun 2025 02:26:43 GMT

T he sunset on Tuesday was gorgeous.

I was riding in the car with my daughter Mara, who struggles with severe autism, when we caught a glimpse of the horizon.

I asked her, “Who lives in the sky, Mara?”

She immediately said, “Jesus.”

“I can’t wait to be with you in heaven. You’ll be able to talk to mommy about everything! You can tell me all your deepest thoughts and your biggest fears. We can still be best friends—but on a whole new level.”

She just smiled and turned back toward the sunset. Then out of nowhere she blurted out, “MORE JESUS!”

And in that moment, I knew God was speaking to me.

Two days prior, while at church, I felt Jesus challenge me to unearth the greatest desire of my heart: for my kids on the spectrum to be healed. This prayer was buried for years under mounds of disapppointment.

So, I pulled the dream back out and asked again: “Jesus, heal my kids.”

And two days later, Mara gave me God’s reply: “MORE JESUS.”

One of the most radical truths that I have learned studying the Bible is that when Jesus returns, we aren’t whisked away to be with him in heaven. No, God is coming to be WITH US on EARTH!

We don’t need to wait until heaven for things to be made right. God’s desire has always been to bring heaven to earth.

That’s why Jesus taught his disciples to pray, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done, on EARTH as it is in HEAVEN.”

He was speaking of a process of restoration that doesn’t commence when the world ends. It began the day Jesus entered the world as a baby and he passed this assignment on to us, his kids.

We don’t need to survive until eternity, we need MORE JESUS in the here and now.

For the marriage on the brink of divorce—MORE JESUS.

For the addict who can’t get out of their own way—MORE JESUS.

For the cancer patient when the doctor says there is nothing more we can do—MORE JESUS.

For the parent who has lost hope their grown kids will ever return to their faith—MORE JESUS.

And for the autism mom who is desperate to hear the sound of her child’s voice—MORE JESUS.

Because we don’t need an ESCAPE from the pain of this world, we need a SOLUTION, and his name is JESUS. ❤️

God's Not in a Rush

Thu, 20 Feb 2025 01:20:25 GMT

I spent last week ministering to the homeless in New York City. It was a sweet time but the hustle and bustle of the city still surprises me.

Everyone’s in a hurry.
Everyone’s busy with their super important agendas and their super private lives.
No one looks you in the eye.
And greetings of hello are not reciprocated.

It’s kind of depressing.

But this week, I flew over the Big Apple to attend a conference and I was dazzled by the city from above.

I couldn’t hear the blaring car horns or see the bumper to bumper traffic. Rather, the twinkling city resembled Christmas lights; headlights gleamed white and brake lights blazed red.

From above, I couldn’t observe the crowded streets or catch the rude comments. I only heard the gentle hum of the plane as I viewed the glory of the night sky through my porthole window.

Then a thought hit me: this is God’s view. He sits above it all.

He’s not anxious.
He’s not in a rush.
He’s simply enjoying the beauty of HIS creation.

It’s was a tender moment until a twinge of guilt gnawed at me. God’s perspective is nothing like mine.

Some of my worst moments as a human happen when I attempt to get my kids out the door for school.

I’m always in a rush.

Always bickering with my children to get their shoes on. Always pushing people to hurry up. Always stressing to get all the things done while hurling stones at the most precious people in my life.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve dropped my kids off at school with a snarky comment or an angry tone.

“Hurry up! I’ve got to get to work on time! You’re gonna make me late, AGAIN!”

(Mind you, I work at a church and I’m stressing about being late for morning prayer. )

If we’re honest, our hurried pace speaks less to our jam-packed schedule and more to our lack of trust in a God who sits outside of time and holds the world in his hands.

God not in a rush.
Why should we be?

As the author John Mark Comer puts it: “Hurry kills relationships. Love takes time and hurry doesn’t have it.

It kills joy, gratitude, appreciation; people in a rush don’t have time to enter the goodness of the moment.”

So, my prayer for you today is this: May you slow down and simply enjoy the beauty of YOUR creation.

The Club No One Wants to Join

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 22 Jan 2024 03:08:34 GMT

“There’s no heartbeat, ” the doctor explained.

We had received this devastating news two weeks prior, but we hoped and prayed the machine was faulty or the baby’s heartbeat was too early to detect. So, we returned for another ultrasound, begging God for a miracle.

But we didn’t get one.

Grief is funny.

One minute you think you’re fine and the next minute it sneaks up on you. One minute you’re laughing with friends at a restaurant and the next minute you’re in the bathroom stall drying your tears with cheap toilet paper.

A family member asked me the other night if I was over my miscarriage.

A miscarriage isn’t something you get over.

It’s not a cold.

It’s a child.

It’s a future you envisioned.

It’s a gift from God that almost happened. And I think that’s what makes it so hard—the almost part. The possibility was closer than my next breath.

I don’t blame them. No one really knows what to say when someone suffers loss. They fumble over their words while we try to cover up our bullet holes with bandaids.

The truth is, we hide our wounds because no matter how much someone loves you, they don’t really want to see them. They desperately want us to feel better. They want us to smile—to laugh and joke and act like everything is okay.

But sometimes it’s not okay.

Yet there is one person who actually wants to come close to our wounds. His name is Jesus.

The Bible says that “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; he rescues those crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) The Message translation puts it this way: “If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.”

The Hebrew word for God drawing near is karov , which means “close enough to touch.” In our pain, Jesus rushes to our aid. There is an intimacy with Jesus we can only experience in our brokenness. The Apostle Paul calls it “the fellowship of his suffering.” I’m not sure that’s a club I want a membership card to. But there is a depth of love we can’t comprehend unless we allow him access to our wounds so he can do what he does best.

With a medic bag in hand, Jesus approaches.

“ You don’t want to see this, Jesus. I’m a mess.”

“ Yes, I do,” he insists as he pulls out the gauze. “You said you wanted to know me more.”

“But I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

“I know, me neither.” Jesus whispers as his nail scarred hands wrap your wounds.

We ask to be Jesus’ hands and feet,

but we often forget what those hands and feet have gone through.

Cornish Pasty (A Hurlbut Thanksgiving Tradition)

Sun, 19 Nov 2023 19:28:55 GMT

The Cornish pasty is a meat pie.

Now as a kid, the idea of combining the words pie and meat together seemed like a mean trick.

But fast forward thirty years, and Cornish Pasties are a Hurlbut Thanksgiving tradition.

Pasties are known and loved throughout Great Britain. It's believed the pasty originated with Cornish tin miners who, unable to return to the surface at lunchtime, could still enjoy a hearty meal. With their hands often dirty from a morning's work, the pasty could be held easily by a "handle" at one end of the thick pastry crust, avoiding contaminating the pie. When laborers immigrated to the United States, they brought the pasty with them; Michigan's Upper Penninsula is also well-known for pasties.

Maybe you're like us and you're not a huge turkey fan, or maybe you just want to try something different this holiday. I hope you enjoy this awesome recipe and please email me back if you try it!!!

Crust Ingredients:

5 cups of flour
1 1/2 tsp of salt
2 1/2 ounces of shortening
1 stick of unsalted butter (cold)

Pie Filling:

1 cup cubed skirt steak
1 cup diced rutabaga
1 cup diced potato
1/2 cup diced onion
Seasoning Salt
Pepper
4 brown gravy packets
2 eggs beaten

Directions:

Place the flour, salt, and butter in a large bowl.
Using your fingertips, rub the butter into the flour and salt until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Work as quickly as possible to prevent the dough from becoming warm.
Add 2 tablespoons of cold water to the mixture and, using a cold knife, stir until the dough binds together. Add more cold water, 1 teaspoon at a time, if the mixture is too dry.
Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and chill for a minimum of 15 minutes or up to 30 minutes.
Gather filling ingredients and preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
Divide the dough into 6-8 balls and flatten them into 6-7 inch circles with a rolling pin.
Place the steak, potato, rutabaga, and onion in a large mixing bowl and combine. Season well with salt and pepper.
Divide the meat mixture evenly among each pastry circle and place it on one side.Sprinkle with the gravy packet and brush the edges with the beaten egg.
Fold the circle in half over the filling so the two edges meet. Crimp the edges together to create a tight seal. Brush each pasty all over with the remaining beaten egg.
Place the pasties on a greased backing sheet and bake for 20 minutes. Lower the oven temperature to 350 F and bake another 20 minutes until golden brown. Serve hot with gravy for dipping. ENJOY!

For the Days When You Want to Quit

Mon, 02 Oct 2023 01:59:34 GMT

Some days are going to be so hard that you’re gonna want to quit.

You’ll want a new husband.

New kids.

A new job.

Basically, a different life.

But you can’t stop running.

When I was training for a marathon, there were times every step I took resulted in a sharp pain that would radiate from the sole of my foot all the way up my leg.

Every.

Step.

Hurt.

Everything in me wanted to quit. My mind would argue, “Why am I doing this? It’s a waste of time. It’s not worth the pain.”

But guess what?

Your family IS worth the pain.

Your marriage IS worth the pain.

Your calling IS worth the pain.

And the next time I went out for a run, I could go further and faster than I had before.

This is how we build endurance. The biblical word for endurance means to abide under a heavy weight.

What if when you feel the weakest—when you’re legs are burning and your faith is is shaken—that’s the moment you’re actually getting stronger?

This is exactly why the Apostle Paul proclaimed, “When I am weak, then I am strong.”(2 Cor 12:10)

God doesn’t need you to run fast, to run hard, or to win a race.

The only thing required of you is to REMAIN in the pain rather than trying to find a way to escape it.

“For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.

So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.” (James 1:3-4)

The Stand

Mon, 28 Aug 2023 02:01:53 GMT

M ost Sundays, my husband stands alone at church.

A pastor.

A husband.

A father of five.

Yet most Sundays, he stands alone.

The circumstances of our lives prevent us from bringing our two kids on the severe end of the spectrum to church.

Sometimes, I stay home.

Other times, my teen son holds down the fort.

But most Sundays, my husband stands alone.

Maybe you’re standing alone too.

Maybe you’re the crazy one who gets up early on Sundays and heads to church. You pray at meals or during bed-time routines while the others roll their eyes.

Or maybe you stand alone as a parent, shouldering a burden one person was never meant to bear. You desperately try to fill in the gaps, but you’re failing left and right.

Or maybe you stand alone on the battle field of faith, contending for something that others call make believe. Maybe God has placed a dream in your heart, a vision in your soul, or a calling on your life that the rest scoff at.

Maybe you stand alone—but that’s all God requires of you—to stand.

World War I was a war fought in the trenches.

These trenches provided protection from the enemy. But early mornings were prime time for surprise attacks. So each day, an hour before dawn, soldiers were given the stand-to order.

All men in the frontline were commanded to stand on the fire-step with their rifles in hand, watching for the enemy’s advancement.

In our darkest hour, God calls us to climb out of the trenches and stand at attention—chin up, chest out, shoulders back, stomach in.

Jesus isn’t recruiting professional fighters.

He’s looking for good standers.

It’s the most unfair tradeoff in history:

If we STAND for him,

the God of the universe FIGHTS for us.

So, crawl out of the trenches, dust the gravel off your knees, and stand.

It’s always darkest before dawn.

And I promise you, we win this war.

“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to STAND your ground, and after you have done everything—STAND.” (Ephesians 6:13)

Jesus Isn't Turned Off by Your Brokenness

Sun, 06 Aug 2023 21:59:40 GMT

I ran into Tim Horton’s the other day while my daughter Mara rocked out to music in the car.

I pulled into a handicap parking spot in order to keep her bobbing head in my line of vision from the checkout counter.

Two women in the line ahead of me noticed Mara flailing about in the passenger seat.

“What is wrong with that girl?” the first asked with a look of disgust on her face.

The other woman laughed and said, “Wow! I have no clue what is happening.”

I should have spoken up.

I should have defended my daughter and gave those women a lesson on autism awareness.

But I didn’t say a word.

It isn’t often that I get to hear people speak so openly about my special needs child. Those conversations are usually whispered or said behind closed doors.

I didn’t feel embarrassed for Mara or myself.

I’m way past that stage.

I just felt sad.

Sad that the world will never understand her.

Sad that no matter what I do, I can’t stop the stares or the whispers.

Sad that when we walk into a public setting, the whole place pauses for a moment to feel bad for us.

Sad that unless Jesus does a miracle in her life, Mara will never work, never marry, or never live independently.

Sad that 90% of her time is spent alone in her room on her iPad. And sad that she likes it that way.

Sad that so many parents are walking this same road. The newest statistic is that 1 in 36 kids are diagnosed with autism.

Life on the spectrum can feel so isolating.

But you’re not alone.

I’m right here with you.

God’s right here with you.

Even in our sadness.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” (Psalm 34:18)

I'm 41 and I Still Need My Dad

Mon, 31 Jul 2023 01:59:34 GMT

M y husband and I got into a heated argument while at a family reunion. He stormed off and I sent a nasty text vowing not to speak to him the rest of the day.

Ten minutes later, I needed Tylenol, which meant venturing down the winding roads of the Pocono Mountains in search of a pharmacy. I was unfamiliar with the area and didn’t want to go alone, but the last thing I was going to do was ask my husband to drive.

As I headed out the door, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to find my father with his hand out.

“Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

“Dad, I’m 41 and I know how to use Google maps. I’ve got this.”

“Give me the keys. These roads are tricky and I know exactly where you need to go.”

So, I reluctantly sat in the passenger seat and as I did the tears began to flow. I dug my sunglasses out of my purse in a futile attempt to cover up my emotions.

Some pain is so deep that every time you think a certain thought it feels like a dagger plunges straight into your heart.

The thought that kept piercing mine was this: “No one cares for me like he does. I’m 41 and I still need my dad.”

There is a love a father can give that no other human can offer. No spouse can be a substitute. No family member or friend can replicate it. It’s a protective care that mirrors the heart of our heavenly Father.

1 Peter 5:7 says, “Give all your worries to God because he CARES FOR YOU.” The Greek word for “cares” means to be concerned for, interested in, and worried about.

God is not just aware of what your are facing.

He is not just interested in your life.

He CARES for you.

He is the kind of father who stays up late and worries sick when you’re not home. Unable to sleep, he sits on the edge of the couch and stares out the window. He counts the tick of the second hand as he anxiously waits for your headlights to pull into the driveway.

And he’s not mad.

He simply wants you to hand him the keys and climb into the passenger seat. Not because he is controlling or overbearing, but simply because he wants to protect you, to lead you, and to supply all your needs.

But here is the kicker, you have to accept his care. He’s a gentlemen and he will never force his will upon you. He simply stands behind you with his hands open wide and says, “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

Unmet Expectations

Sat, 08 Jul 2023 18:04:34 GMT

I never expected my life to be this hard.

It reminds me of when we started house hunting as newlyweds. I was bursting with excitement at the possibilities.

I strolled up the walkway of a cute home—envisioning my future—only to realize the utter disaster that awaited me inside. The previous owner was a hoarder and the entire house needed to be gutted.

Looks can be deceiving.

The exciting life we anticipate often feels like a giant letdown.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve cried myself to sleep thinking, “l want a different life, Jesus.”

But Jesus doesn’t want to buy you a new house or give you a different life.

He’s not in the house-building business,

He’s in the restoration business.

My husband told me to ignore the shag carpet and the hideous paint job and see the potential.

This is what God does best. He looks past your broken places and sidesteps your heartaches. He’s not staring at the tacky wallpaper but his master plan.

Brick by brick, he begins rebuilding your life. He stacks the loss and pain of the past alongside his goodness and grace. Both are necessary materials in the home He is restoring.

Your life will look completely different than what you envisioned.

And as he begins the demolition process, it will probably look worse before it gets better.

But sometimes we have to let go of the life we envisioned and let God do what he does best:

flip houses .

I never imagine my life to be this hard—but I never fathomed it would turn out this beautiful.

“ And we know that God causes EVERYTHING to work TOGETHER for the GOOD of those who love God and are called according to his purpose .” (Romans 8:28)

When You Have No Clue What to Do

Sun, 02 Jul 2023 19:55:50 GMT

Hey Jesus,

I have no clue what to do. I pray and pray but hear nothing. One minute I’m certain of a decision only to experience whiplash a second later and second guess myself.

I want to do what you want, Jesus—I think.

And to make matters worse, there are so many different opinions swirling in my head; Family, friends, strangers online. I feel seasick as I ride the waves of indecision.

Jesus, calm my mind.

Speak to my heart.

Silence my doubt.

Show me the way.

My Child,

It’s not your job to calm the storm in your mind—it’s mine. Remember when the waves slapped against the fishing boat on the Sea of Galilee? The hail and rain were so thick, the disciples could not see their own hand in front of their face.

In moments when you can’t see me through the storm, trust I’m coming towards you. Stop rowing frantically. Stop making lists and trying to figure it all out. Put down your oars of logic and reason and just wait.

You don’t have to find me. I’m coming to you. Strain with eyes of faith, I’m on my way—walking on the sea.

And when I come, I will climb into the boat and with one word, the raging waters stop. Your mind will be at peace. The waves will die down and the sky will clear, and you’ll know exactly which way to go.

You don’t need answers.

You need me.

Just wait.

“If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you. He will not rebuke you for asking. But when you ask him, be sure that your faith is in God alone. Do not waver, for a person with divided loyalty is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is blown and tossed by the wind.

Such people should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Their loyalty is divided between God and the world, and they are unstable in everything they do.” (James 1:5-8)

When Your Peace is MIA

Mon, 30 Jan 2023 03:00:44 GMT

I think I secretly suffer from ADHD.

I can’t seem to sit still. I’m always chasing after something new and I manage to lose everything.

I think I lost my peace in the bathroom stall of Target three years ago and I've never been able to find it since.

Last week, God spoke to my heart:

“You spend your life pursuing so many things. But there is one pursuit you've neglected—the PURSUIT OF PEACE.”

In my defense, pursuing peace as a mom is like trying to find a needle in a haystack—blindfolded, spun around fifty times, with your hands tied, and multiple children hanging off of your back like monkeys.

Yet I’m reminded of the story when Jesus was sleeping in a boat with his friends in the middle of a tsunami. The boat was taking on water, they were all about to die, and Jesus was found snoozing.

How does he do it?

There is no storm that rattles him.

No chaos too loud to shake him.

I used to think peace was something granted. All that was required was to turn to your neighbor, shake his hand and repeat, “Peace be with you”. Or if I prayed hard enough, angel dust would fall from the sky. land on my stressful situation, and it would magically dissolve before my eyes. Yet the dust never fell and the chaos kept mounting.

But what if peace isn’t something that can be found? What if peace must be FIERCELY PURSUED?

“Whoever desires to love life and see good days…let him turn away from evil and do good; let him SEEK peace and PURSUE it.” (1 Peter 3:10-11)

The word seek in Greek means to search for something lost. Yep. That’s it right there.

I have lost my peace.

Maybe you have too?

Take one look at the world around us: the news, the government, racial tension, the economy, inflation, and gas prices. It all screams conflict and unrest. There is zero peace in this world.

So, if peace can’t be found outside of us, we must seek to find it within.

The Greek word for pursue means to do something with intense effort, to pursue a hard thing that tends to flee. In order to obtain peace, relentless determination is required.

But how do you pursue something so abstract?

To be honest, I’m not quite sure.

But here is some practical advice I’m implementing in my own life to relieve the pressure and actively pursue peace.

SAY NO A LOT MORE.

I have said no to more people in the last week than I have in my entire life. No to dinner plans, no to crazy sports schedules, no to phone calls, Zoom calls, emails, and text messages. No, no, no, no! No lengthy explanations necessary.

LOWER THE BAR.

I’m a high achiever and I like to be productive. But guess what? Sometimes it’s ok to not accomplish as much as you once did. Admit you’re stressed and then release yourself from some of your own unrealistic expectations.

LEARN TO JUST BE.

One of the best prayers prayed over me went like this:

I feel God wants to remind you of Psalm 46:10 -

“Be still and know that I am God.”

"Actually, I feel God just wants you to “Be still and know…”

Wait, I hear him say, “Just be still…”

Never mind, He said, “Just be.”

White Peppermint Bark Recipe

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 11 Dec 2022 20:32:24 GMT

Ingredients:

Two 10-ounce bags semisweet chocolate chips
One 24-ounce package white almond bark, chopped
1 tablespoon peppermint extract
1 cup crushed peppermints (about 32 peppermint candies)

Directions:

In a medium stainless steel bowl or the top of a double boiler, add the semisweet chocolate chips. Nest the bowl over a pot of barely simmering water (the bowl should not touch the water) and stir the chocolate until melted (taking care not to get any water in the bowl). Set the bowl aside off the heat.
Pour the semisweet chocolate on a parchment paper-lined quarter sheet pan. Refrigerate until the chocolate sets slightly, 10 to 15 minutes.
In a second medium stainless steel bowl or the top of a double boiler, add the white almond bark. Nest the bowl over a pot of barely simmering water (the bowl should not touch the water). Take extra care with the white almond bark and stir over low heat until melted (being sure not to get any water in the bowl). Set the bowl aside off the heat.
Add the peppermint extract to the white almond bark and stir to combine.
Pour the white chocolate on top of the set semisweet chocolate, spread evenly, and sprinkle with the crushed peppermints.
Set aside until completely firm, at room temperature for at least 1 hour, in the fridge for 30 minutes, or in the freezer for 15 minutes (see Cook’s Note). Gently break the bark into pieces.

3 Unconventional Christmas Traditions

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 04 Dec 2022 21:43:27 GMT

Family traditions are the invisible threads stretching from heaven to earth, weaving our hearts with those who have gone before us. It’s grandma’s Italian meatballs, which are the same meatballs my dad makes on Sundays, and the same meatballs I attempt once a year. The smell dances throughout the kitchen reminding me I’m part of something bigger than myself.

The Christmas season is no exception. Rather than binding us to our passed loved ones, Christmas traditions fasten us to our faith—reminding us we’re a part of a redemption story much bigger than ourselves.

F rom the matching pajamas your wife insists you wear to the white taper candles at the Christmas Eve service that always drip wax and burn your finger s, traditions ground us. And don’t get me started on the dang elf on the shelf. Jerry is permanently hibernating in our attic.

Here are 3 of Our Unconventional Christmas Family Traditions:

Three Wisemen Gifts

The average family in the U.S. will spend over $1,300 in Christmas presents this year! It's easy to get carried away by the waves of consumerism as we all try to keep up with the Joneses.

Our children’s pastor shared a Christmas tradition I implemented when my kids were little and I have never looked back. Each child received three gifts for Christmas.That’s it! The three presents symbolized the three gifts the wisemen presented to Jesus.

“Tell me more,” I insisted.

“The first present is wrapped in red wrapping paper and is a gift that will help them grow in their faith like a Christian book, movie, Bible, devotional, etc.

The second present is wrapped in silver wrapping paper and this gift is related to a gift or skill they have. Maybe it’s an instrument, if they are musically inclined. An art kit or drawing table or sports equipment if they excel in this area.

Finally, the last present is wrapped in gold paper and all the kids know this is the big gift, the expensive gift, the one gift they begged all year for. “

I loved the idea. It was simple, meaningful, and with five kids—it fit my budget.

Birthday Cake for Jesus

I bought a birthday cake and candles last Christmas Eve at Walmart and the woman at the checkout asked me, “Are you celebrating someone’s birthday on top of Christmas?”

I replied, “Yes, Jesus’ birthday.

Her response still makes me laugh.

“Oh, it’s his birthday every day.”

Hmmm, really????

Whether people get it or not, I want my kids to know that Christmas is a celebration of Jesus’ birth. He came to the world as Emmanuel, “God With Us”. He came to save us from ourselves and make a way for us to be with God the Father in Heaven. Every Christmas Eve, we sing Happy Birthday to Jesus.

Giving to a Stranger

The last tradition is my favorite. A week before Christmas, we take $200 of the money we saved on Christmas shopping and climb into the car. All the kids pray and ask Jesus who he wants us to give the money to. We sit in the car with the worship music playing in the background and listen.

Last year, my son said he saw a picture in his mind of a red door. My daughter saw a white house. So, we drove around town until we came across a cute white house and guess what? Their door was wrapped in red wrapping paper with a giant bow! We knocked on the door, only to come face-to-face with a single mom who had just called her mother to ask for money to finish her Christmas shopping. She cried and said it was the best gift she had ever received.

Giving is a beautiful way to not only teach our kids compassion, but it's also a great lesson in learning how to hear the Holy Spirit and follow where he leads.

Shoe Swapping

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 24 Oct 2022 02:16:55 GMT

"Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. Then when you do criticize them, you will be a mile away and have their shoes.” -Jack Handy

Growing up, my father retold the same childhood fable. Usually, this tall tale was recited while stirring a simmering pot of his famous spaghetti sauce, a recipe that he claimed Russian spies were always after.

The story went something like this:

" When I was a boy, I had to walk five miles to school, uphill both ways. One morning, while trudging through a blizzard, an old woman driving a Cadillac pulled to the side of the road.

Overwhelmed with compassion, she rolled down her window and hollered, “ You poor boy! You lost a shoe!”

I lifted my head, flashed a sheepish grin, and responded, “No ma’am, I found one.”

I think it’s about time we start a new trend, “Shoe Swapping” . I’ll give you my shoes, you give me yours.

Judging others comes so naturally; doesn’t it? Do you know what’s not easy? Putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. One person’weakness may be your greatest strength. Someone else’s vice may be your victory.

You may never understand how it feels to have a substance control you.No one's five-year-plan is to become a heroin addict. Addiction is a slow fade, robbing you of your job, y our reputation, your family, and finally you r life. You will never comprehend how every minute is a mental battle to make a different choic e— until you walk a mile in my shoes.

You may never feel the wave of disappointment as you stare at another negative pregnancy test. You will never see the bank statement , the medical bills , or fathom the cost for fertility treatments. You ma y never endure the agony of going to yet another baby showe r —until you walk a mile in my shoes.

You may never comprehend the domino effects of depression. Climbing out of bed is a daily struggle, a battle in which you feel as if you are your own worst enemy. You may never know the darkness of the soul — until you walk a mile in my shoes.

You may neve r experience the sting of add ing all your grocery items in your head, and then reluctantly put things back on the shelf. You may never have to stress about how you are going to pay for your child’s yearbook , school lunch, or Christmas presents— until you walk a mile in my shoes.

You may never undergo the humiliation of your special needs child having a full-fledged meltdown in the middle of Walmart. You may never hear the whispers of onlookers spewing hurtful comments, all the while, judging your parenting skill s— until you walk a mile in my shoes.

You may neve r be haunted by loneliness each night as you veg out in front of the T V binge watching six seasons of This is Us . You may never believe the lie that you aren’t good enough to be loved and fret about dying alone— until you walk a mile in my shoes.

When it feels like no one understands you.

When you feel alone in your pain.

When you desperately want to chuck the pair of shoes this world has dealt you in the garbage remember…

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to SYMPATHIZE and UNDERSTAND our weaknesses and temptations, but One who has been tempted [knowing exactly what it feels to be human] in every respect as we are, yet without sin.” ( Hebrews 4:15 )

Only God can truly understand the LIMITATIONS on your life,

yet only God is aware of it’s LIMITLESS POTENTIAL.

The Blessings of Autism

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 26 Sep 2022 02:17:57 GMT

During the first few years of my daughter's diagnosis, you would never catch me using the words autism and blessing in the same sentence.

Instead, it felt like an evil spell my child was under. She spent most of her days screaming, kicking, and hiding away in her room. Every once in awhile, another parent would try to encourage me by squeezing my hand and whispering, "God has a plan and your daughter has a purpose."

To be honest, I wanted to punch that person in the face. (To be fair, I did not.)

And when I thought things couldn't get any worse, my three-year-old son was also diagnosed with severe autism, The doctor said my husband and I were genetically the perfect storm. I'm not sure he meant it as a compliment. But there was definitely a storm raging inside of me. I was angry at God. Angry at my kid's behaviors. And furious at all the happy families who plastered photos on Instagram of their kids sporting Mickey ears and building sand castles.

The years have rolled by. and I don't know when it happened, but a shift has occurred. A lady at the grocery store commented that my son was getting too big for the shopping cart.

I nodded in agreement.

Yet a part of me secretly hopes he'll never stop wanting to ride in the grocery cart. I didn’t feel the need to explain. It's as if God has changed my perspective and taught me to find the beauty in the midst of the pain. He's given me eyes to spot the diamonds in the rough. An uncut diamond can be overlooked at best—at worst—tossed aside and considered trash.

Oftentimes, the positive qualities of the ones we love are hidden under a harsh or unremarkable surface.

Yet today, I am reminded of all the beautiful glimmers and facets of my kids on the spectrum:

1. They posses an INNOCENCE THAT WILL NEVER FADE.

My children will never have a rebellious phase. I will never have to wonder if they’re lying because by nature, they can’t lie. I will never need to check their phones for inappropriate web searches. I will never toss and turn at night wondering what they are doing and why they are not home. No, their innocence will remain as the years continue to roll by.

2. They will always be OBLIVIOUS TO PEER PRESSURE.

They will never be ridden with anxiety in attempts to fit in. My daughter will not spend one day of her life stressing about her body image, makeup, or clothing. They will continue to be their unique selves while their peers replicate into carbon copies.

3. They will NEVER BE EMBARRASSED OF ME.

This glimmer brings me the most joy. Day-after-day they will come busting out of school and run into my arms. They will always be proud to call me mom and I’m pretty darn proud to call them mine.

Miniature Jesus

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 12 Sep 2022 03:39:00 GMT

When I was a kid, well-meaning adults informed me that Jesus lived in my heart.

Naturally, I pictured my ticker with a front door, a welcome mat, and bell that chimed “Achy Breaky Heart”. When it cracked open—there stood Jesus—well, a miniature version of himself.

Yet he wasn’t alone for long.

After my grandfather died, these well-meaning adults told me grandpa lived in my heart too. Then my grandma died. Then my uncle and aunt. It was sure getting crowded in my cardiovascular system.

As ridiculous as this sounds, our childhood perceptions of faith matter.

If I view Jesus as a tiny lego figurine as a child, I may struggle to comprehend God’s almighty power and limitless love as an adult.

The same is true for the Holy Spirit. Most Christians treat the third person of the Trinity like he is our imaginary friend.

We don’t tell anyone about him.

We’re embarrassed to acknowledge his presence.

Sometimes we whisper to him late at night when we say our bed time prayers.

But deep down, we don’t believe he exists.

Yet Jesus thought the Holy Spirt was so important that he said something crazy to his best friends right before he went to the cross:

“It’s best for you that I go away…” (John 16:7)

Can you imagine encountering Jesus face-to-face, witnessing limbs grow out, blind eyes opened, corpses coming back to life, going for strolls on the water, until Jesus looks at you and says, “I should leave. You’d be better off if I wasn’t around.”

What would possess Jesus to make such an outlandish statement?

He understood something we do not. Jesus didn’t view the Holy Spirit as an imaginary friend void of power but as the third person of the Godhead. The Spirit is necessary for us to do all we are called to do. Without the Holy Spirit, the disciples would still be hiding in the Upper Room. Jesus explained that unless he left, the Holy Spirit could not come.

Without the Spirit empowering us, we would all be weak, pathetic Christians showing up at Jesus’ door and texting him every night for advice. Jesus would have to hire a personal assistant to field all our calls and the waitlist to grab a latte with the King of Kings might be extremely long.

When Jesus was on the earth, he chose to limit himself to human form. He could only be in one place at one time, performing one miracle. He did this to model for us how to live in obedience to God the Father. But after he conquered death and rose again, it was now time to send his Spirit.

In John 14:12 Jesus says, “ I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father.”

I used to wonder how we could top Jesus in the miracle department? How could we possibly do greater works than Jesus himself? But take another look at the second half of the verse. Jesus said the reason we will do greater works is because he is going to be with his Father. And who comes when Jesus leaves? The Holy Spirit.

It’s really just simple math:

Jesus living on the earth filled with the Spirit = 1 Jesus

Every believer on the earth filled with the Spirit = 2.56 billion miniature versions of Jesus

Those who were part of the early church had a nickname, they were referred to as “little Christs” or “Christians” because of how much they resembled Jesus. May you too be a miniature version of Jesus where ever you go as we witness firsthand the multiplication effect of his Kingdom.

My Family's Top Secret Recipes

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 01 Aug 2022 03:06:59 GMT

Aunt Linda's Mac and Cheese

Ingredients:

1/2 cup of butter (1 stick)

1/4 cup of flour

2 cups of milk

1 tsp of salt

8 oz of cheddar cheese

2 cups of elbow macaroni

1 can of corn

1/2 cup of Italian bread crumbs

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
In a saucepan over low heat, melt butter and then add milk, flour, salt, and grated cheese.
Whisk conintuously and increase stovetop to medium/high until sauce thickens.
Fill a separate pot of water with a dash of salt and set it on high until it boils.
Add 2 cups of macaroni and cook until el dente.
Drain macaroni in a strainer and place in a 13x9 inch cake pan with one can of corn. Mix thoroughly.
Pour cheese sauce and top of noodles and sprinkle with bread crumbs.
Cook for 20 mins in the oven at 350 degrees. ENJOY!

Grandma Perry's Italian Meatballs

Ingredients Meatballs:

3 lbs of ground pork

3 cups of Italian bread crumbs

1/3 cup of Romano cheese

3 tsp of salt

3 tsp of pepper

1 tsp of dried basil

1/2 tsp of minced garlic

a dash of parsley flakes

6 eggs

Ingredients for Sauce:

3-28 oz cans of Hunts whole tomatoes

1-28oz can of Hunts tomato puree

1-12oz can of tomato paste

1 TBSP of sugar

Directions:

In a large bowl, combine all the meatball ingredients and mix with your hands.
Roll into 1 1/2 inch balls and set aside on a cookie sheet.
Blend the Hunts whole tomatoes in a food processor or blender until the mixture is smooth.
Add the can of blended whole tomatoes, puree, paste and sugar to a large pot and cook on low, stirring occasionally.
Add meatballs to the sauce and cook over low heat for three hours.
Serve with your favorite cooked pasta and ENJOY!

Why God Doesn't Mind if You Have Trust Issues

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 01 Aug 2022 02:35:08 GMT

After a painstaking thirteen years of siblings jumping on his bed, stealing his belongings, and leaving trails of Goldfish™ crumbs as evidence - my oldest son Jeremiah earned his own bedroom.

Dragging his comforter down the hallway, there was a skip in his step, like a giddy school girl on the first day.

His previous roommate, my son Isaac on the other hand, was sobbing.

“Jeremiah, don’t leave me! Jeremiah, stay one more night. Jeremiah, I’ll miss you.”

For an hour straight, Isaac mourned the loss of his beloved brother. He ranted about Jeremiah moving out and going to college. I reassured him that was years from now, and he was only two doors down. When the well of alligator tears began to dry up, I asked what was really making him upset.

“ I’m crying because I have been keeping something from Jeremiah” Isaac confessed.

At this point, I’m picturing a wad of stolen cash hidden under his pillow, or Jeremiah’s Air Pods to be nestled in the front pouch of Isaac’s book bag.

“I have hidden this for a long time” Isaac continued. “The truth is, Jeremiah is the most annoying brother in the whole world but I really do love him.”

And the floodgates burst open once again.

This will be one of the stories I share with Isaac’s future girlfriend in order to mortify him at the opportune time. Yet something struck me about the scenario. It took a moment of loss for my son to open up and share how he really felt about his big brother.

We’re not very good at being honest, are we?

My son Isaac is only 9 years old, yet he has already earned his Doctorate of Deceit.

The truth is, most of us are really good at lying. I’m not talking about the little white lies we sneak in every now and then. I’m talking about the big stuff.

We lie to the ones we love.
We lie to ourselves.
We lie to God.

Why?

Because we believe the lie that we won’t be loved for who we really are. If someone truly knew me, they would leave. If people discovered all my faults, they would turn tail and run. If God knew the crap in my heart, he would never accept me.

Yet God doesn’t need polished Christians that have all their ducks in a row. God wants the raw, unfiltered versions of ourselves. The only thing required to approach the God of the universe is an honest heart.

With God, it’s more important to BE than to SEEM.

Hebrews 4:13 states, “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes, and he is the one to whom we are accountable.”

Remember the nightmare where you show up to school in your birthday suit? This is how we stand before God.

He knows your pain.
He knows your faults.

He knows your doubts.
Stop pretending he doesn't.

Because this humbling place is the beginning of relationship. Intimacy is really IN-TO-ME-YOU-SEE.

God sees it all and continually loves us despite ourselves.

The Little Boy in the Red Cape

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 17 Jul 2022 01:54:33 GMT

I was strolling down a crowded street—minding my own business—when a little boy dressed in a red cape bumped my arm and whizzed past me.

He spun around mid-run and stuck out his tongue.

“Catch me if you can!”

As he ran off in the distance, I spotted the word HAPPINESS sewn in sequins on the back of his cape as it flapped in the wind.

Where is he going? Who does he think he is?

I made it my life’s mission to catch that kid.

I set out for college to pursue my dream job.

And guess what?

I spotted that dang kid at orientation. I pushed through the mass of sweaty college freshman to stop him, but he slinked through the crowd like a snake in the grass and slithered out the gym doors.

On my wedding day, he made a surprise appearance and offered to be my ring bearer. I never did catch his name. He vanished once the ceremony was over.

A few years later, I found myself surrounded by toddlers. On a trip to the park, I swear I caught a glimmer of his cape as he whooshed down the tube slide. When I went to investigate, he was no where to be found.

Time passed. I was itching for change. We loaded up a U-Haul and headed across the country in search for greener grass. While on the road, that little punk sped by us in an old beat-up station wagon with his nose pressed up against the window pane. I took down the license plate number, but I was never able to track him down.

Some days, I forgot about the little boy in the red cape.

Other days, I obsessed and plotted ways to hunt him down and capture him once and for all.

But without fail—every few years—I would spot him. Each time, we were both a wee bit older and a tad slower, yet he always seemed two steps ahead of me.

Then one glorious day, I snagged the back of his cape. To my utter shock, it was merely a cheap tablecloth from the Dollar Store that tore to shreds in my hands. With the cape now gone, I noticed the boy—now a man—was sporting a jersey with the word PURPOSE across his shoulders.

Don’t waste your life chasing after cheap Dollar Store tablecloths.

Don’t spend your time sprinting toward happiness instead of healing.

Don’t drown out the cry of your heart for purpose with shiny new places and things.

Because change on the outside will never produce change on the inside.

Your longing for HAPPINESS is actually PURPOSE in disguise.

Purpose can only exist outside oneself.

And your purpose can only be revealed by the one who created you.

Chase after Him.

“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good works he planned for us before time began.” (Ephesians 2:10)

It's Time to Go

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 17 Jul 2022 01:47:36 GMT

T he red and orange leaves showered down onto the rubber mulch below.

My eight-year old son Isaac had arrived at the park solo, but was quickly greeted by a blonde-haired barefoot beauty named Chloe.

After the awkward introductions—the chase was on—weaving in and out of the swings, crawling through the tunnels, and down the twisty slide.

The air was infused with giggles as I sat on a bench nearby with a Tim Horton’s double double warming my hands. A breeze swept in and seemed to whisper to my soul, “ There is beauty here.”

Life is a gift.

At some point, Isaac initiated a game of hide-and-seek. He crouched into a crawl space, cupped his hands over his eyes, and began counting.

“ One, two, three, four…”

A car door slammed and I spun my head around. A man sporting a Brave’s snapback stepped out of his Highlander and motioned for his daughter.

“ It’s time to go home, Sweetie.”

Chloe reluctantly grabbed her light up sneakers from the grass and was whisked away before Isaac reached twenty.

“Ready or not, here I come!” My son hollered while scanning the playground.

“ Chloe? Chloe? Wow, you’re good at hiding.”

“Honey, she had to leave. Her dad said it was time to go.”

Isaac ignored me and kept searching.

“ Isaac, she’s not here. ”

Still, Isaac refused to look my way.

In a moment of frustration, I yelled, “Isaac, she’s gone. Her dad came to take her home.”

Finally, he snapped out of his state of denial. He ran into my arms with a quivering lip and giant alligator tears.

“ Why did he do that? We only got to play for five minutes!”

"I know, Honey, you didn’t have much time.”

“I didn’t say goodbye.”

“I know, it happened so quickly.”

“Who am I going to play with now?” Isaac asked as he surveyed the empty playground.

“ It’s not fair! ”

“I know, Buddy, but I’m not her parent. I don’t get to determine when it’s her time to go home. That’s up to her father.”

And then it hit me…

Life is beautiful and horrible all at the same time.

Life is full of belly-laughs, and heartache, weddings, and funerals, cancer, and sunsets.

One minute you are drinking in the world’s goodness,

and the next minute the phone rings with devastating news.

It happens in an instant.

You rarely see it coming.

There’s no time to say goodbye.

Nothing about it is fair.

And in the cave of sorrow, you can’t help but feel alone.

But the truth is, we don’t get to determine when it’s someone’s time to go home.

That’s up to their Father.

Yet, we can grieve with hope.

Because love never dies—people do.

The Secret Sauce that Makes a Marriage Stick

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 17 Jul 2022 01:43:43 GMT

I gave him the look.

You know the one that says, “I despise you right now.”

He rolled his eyes.

I continued my case of why I was right and why he was ridiculous .

The silent game was operating in full force and I was the reigning champion.

I intended to hold a grudge indefinitely—but then he grabbed my hand.

I found the words, “I’m sorry” sneaking out of my mouth before I could stop them.

He smirked.

And grace came flooding in.

Good marriages are built on love but they are held together with the glue of grace .

Grace when she spends two hours wandering through the aisles of Target for no other reason than needing to escap e the house after being cooped up all day

Grace when he loses his temper because the kids left the fridge open again.

Grace when she hasn’t done the laundry in a week and you have no clean socks.

Grace when he leaves said socks on the floor instead of putting them in the basket two feet away.

Grace when she spends money on something silly that should have been used to pay a bill.

Grace when he stretches out on the couch after a long day, burying his head in his phone while you chase after the children.

Grace, grace, and mounds of grace are necessary to make a relationship last.

Because undeserved grace is the glue which holds two imperfect people together perfectly.

" Make every effort to be found living peaceful lives that are pure and blameless in his sight...and may you continue to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." (2 Peter 3:14,18)

Searching For Truth on Zillow

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 11 Jul 2022 02:47:53 GMT

“ You’re not going to believe this,” Greg exclaimed as he shoved the phone in my face.

Usually it’s a stupid meme, but instead the Zillow app was open.

“ This house went up for sale today. It’s a five bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath American Craftsman house with a wrap-around porch, 2 indoor fireplaces, custom-made cabinets, granite counter tops, a jacuzzi suite, and to top it off it’s located on the St. Lawrence River.”

“ How much are they asking? I’m sure it’s way out of our price range." I piped up with a dash of cynicism.

“They’re only asking $80,000.” Greg declared in disbelief.

“What’s the catch? I bet the foundation has issues, or there is a massive mold problem, or the previous owner was found dead in the house and now everyone claims it’s haunted.”

Greg rolled his eyes. He was accustom to my antics.

“ Well, there is one catch,” Greg hesitated. “ They won’t let the buyer do a walk through. You have to purchase it without a home tour.”

“Who in the world would do that? There must be a dead body in there.” I insisted.

Greg dropped the phone, got on his knees as if he was going to propose all over again, clasped his hands around mine and said, “ Trust me on this one. It’s worth it.”

This conversation almost destroyed our marriage—just kidding. :)

This is a fictitious story but I wanted you to imagine buying a house without ever stepping foot inside. No one in their right mind would pay that kind of money without entering in.

As a potential homeowner, you want to inspect every nook and cranny. The guys are checking out the furnace and the roof, while the ladies are envisioning snuggling on the couch with their kiddos and a giant bowl of popcorn, or what it would be like to whip up their favorite pasta dish in the massive kitchen.

If you want to buy a house, you must go inside.

Truth is a house.

Yet most Christians are content viewing God’s truth from a distance. They’ll drive by and admire the curb appeal, they’ll scroll through photos, and they’ll spend weeks studying the specs on Zillow.

But the only way for a truth to go from your head to your heart is for you to walk into it and experience it firsthand. Truth is proved through experience.

Right before he died, Jesus said to his best friends, “ I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Tell us the bad news, Jesus.”

“I’m leaving you. And it won’t be a ten-day vacation to Greece. I’m going to be murdered. I’m returning to my Dad in Heaven .”

The disciples were bewildered and at a loss for words—except Peter—he never knew how to shut up.

“ And the good news?”

“It’s better for me to leave. When I go, I will send the Holy Spirit. When the Spirit of Truth comes, he will lead you INTO all truth.”

If truth is a house, you can’t fully understand it unless you walk inside. And your friendly realtor? The Holy Spirit. Jesus didn't say the Holy Spirit would teach us truth, or he would model truth, he said he would lead us into truth.

And doesn’t a part of us resonate with this. Whenever Jesus speaks to me, it feels like he’s trying to talk me into something.

Why?

Because he knows we will never pay the cost it requires to follow him unless we enter into the truth he is trying to reveal.

God isn’t trying to talk us out of something, he’s trying to talk us into something

What is God trying to talk you into?

My Advice for Your Graduate

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 26 Jun 2022 03:21:33 GMT

D ear Graduate,

Wisdom is the best gift.

Here is my gift to you:

1. Push past the crowds going the opposite direction and follow God. He writes the best stories.

2. The people who are cool now, won’t be cool later. They will be fat, bald, and sad. Don’t worry about what they think.

3. Stop trying to please everyone—follow your dreams—especially if they are outside the box.

4. Do whatever you can to prevent going into massive college debt. Work, save, apply for scholarships, sell a kidney , then google "Dave Ramsey".

5. You will feel so lost in college. Alcohol can’t fix that.

6. Find one or two close friends who you can call on whenever you are lonely or bored. They will be your lifeline.

7. If you’re looking for a good man, let me ask you one question: where are you fishing? If you fish in a swamp (a bar, club, Snapchat, dating sites) you’ll ALWAYS catch a snake.

8. There is this amazing thing called CLEP tests which if you pass, you can skip whole classes and save tons of money on General Ed ucation credits.

9. Marry the guy who cries when you tell him you want to be alone the rest of your life because all men are jerks—he’s a ke eper.

10. If you drop out, you’re NOT a loser. Your life won’t end and you don’t have to be on welfare. Degrees don’t open doors: hard work and character do.

11. School taught you to be 1% committed to 100 different things. No "well-rounded" individual has ever contributed anything of great significance to society. Be 100% committed to one thing and that one thing better be something stinkin' important!

12. "Don't let anyone put you down because you are young. Teach with your life: by word, by demeanor, by love, by faith, by integrity." (1 Timothy 4: 12 The Message)

Pro-Trust

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 30 May 2022 02:37:39 GMT

As we look to the future, it seems inevitable Roe vs. Wade will be overturned. Pro-choice advocates will storm the streets demanding the government doesn’t have the right to tell women what to do with their bodies. While the Pro-life movement will storm the same streets, throwing a massive party celebrating the sanctity of life.

News anchors will dive headfirst into heated arguments. Harsh words will be exchanged between friends who are no more. Snide comments will pepper social media. And yet another issue will divide a country already sliced and diced by dissension.

At first glance, it appears there are only two sides to the abortion argument.

I would like to present a third.

I am not pro-life or pro-choice. I am pro-trust.

I’m a Christian. I believe human life begins at conception and every child is a gift from God. Yet in the same breath, I would say I don’t believe this is the core issue but a distraction. God doesn’t do surface work. He cuts past our slogans and facades, and drills down deep into our hearts.

For me, the real question isn’t “ When does life start? ” but “ When did trust stop?’

Track with me for a moment, as we revisit the most famous unplanned pregnancy: Mary, Jesus’ mother.

Bible scholars believe Mary was only sixteen years old when an angel appeared to her to proclaim the miraculous news that God had chosen her to carry his son, Jesus.

We view this as “good news” in hindsight, but according to culture of that day, it was devastating news. Mary was a virgin and engaged to a young man named Joseph. In biblical times, an engagement consisted of more than candles, rose petals, and Instagram-worthy photos. Engagement required both families to enter into a legally binding arrangement. The couple was required to live apart for a year, while the man looked for work and suitable housing for his future bride.

If a woman was to have sex before marriage, this was considered adultery. Mary not only had to break the news to Joseph and pray he didn’t desert her, she also was adorned with a scarlet letter, and faced the possibility of being stoned according to Jewish law.

Minus the angel and immaculate conception, Mary’s unplanned pregnancy mirrors many of the situations young pregnant moms find themselves in today:

Alone.

Ashamed.

Afraid.

Yet after hearing this incredible news, what is Mary’s response?

“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word .” (Luke 1:38)

Even though Mary was terrified, she chose to trust God’s will for her life amidst the chaos swirling around her.

I truly believe the core issue behind the abortion argument isn’t life, but trust.

Now, before the right-wing conservatives stand up and shout, “ I told you so! These women need to trust God and refuse to consider abortion an option” , let’s take a minute to evaluate our own hearts through this lens of trust:

Have you wasted your life at a job you despise because you are relying on a retirement plan rather than trusting God to provide for you?

Have you found yourself in a relationship with someone who doesn’t treat you well because you refused to wait on God’s timing?

Have you spent your time manipulating and controlling people and circumstances in an effort to make things go your way because you don’t believe God has your back?

Jesus reminds us, “ Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. For you will be treated as you treat others….

And why worry about the speck in your friends’ eye when you have a log in your own? ”

(Matthew 7:1-3)

When we start looking at abortion as a trust issue rather than solely a life issue, it appears like we all have two-by-fours we need to return to Home Depot.

My Prayer For You: May you become more like Christ: slow to judge and quick to forgive. May you learn to trust the hand of God in your life. And may He give you wisdom like Mary, to treasure all these things and pondered them in your heart. AMEN.

Who Else is Sick of Hiding?

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 16 May 2022 02:40:11 GMT

Our church recently hosted an amazing women’s conference. I kept thinking to myself, “So-and-so needs to be here. She would love this!” But I realized my friends who needed this conference the most, were the very ones avoiding it like the plague.

Isn’t that how we operate as humans?

The things we desperately need—we refuse to do.

The Apostle Paul put it this way, “ I don’t understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate.” (Romans 7:15 NLT)

The counseling we never seek.

The prayer we never ask for.

The church we never plug into.

It’s almost like we’re hiding.

As a kid, I was an expert at hide-and-seek. I had a knack for securing the best spots. On one occasion, I perched on top of my fridge for an hour. I watched from above while my cousins scurried around the house. Unfortunately, the prolonged crick in my neck put a damper on my victory.

You see, being good at hide-and-seek does have its downfalls.

When you are an expert at hiding, no one ever finds you.

Maybe this is you.

Maybe you have been hiding for years in such an elusive spot, things got dark. Maybe everyone you loved gave up, went home, and you found yourself alone.

You shy from the limelight.

You run from intimate relationships.

You sugar-coat your conversations and chat about the weather.

And maybe – the greatest tragedy of all – you are hiding from the One who created you.

The problem is, if you hide long enough, you start to believe all sorts of lies:

No one cares.

I’m too far gone.

There must be something wrong with me.

Like a lawyer who stacks up evidence and sets out to defend one’s case, you convince yourself that your life doesn’t warrant an all-out search. Time passes and all that remains is a remnant of the person you once were.

Congratulations, my friend. You are now an expert at hiding.

When my son was a toddler, he loved to play hide-and-seek. He always hid in plain view. Behind a chair. Under the dinning room table. Peering through his chubby fingers believing he was invisible. As a good mommy, I would wander around the house calling, “ Isaac? Isaac? Where are you?”

Like God when Adam hid in the Garden of Eden, I knew exactly where my son was.

God knows exactly where you’re hiding.

God knows exactly why you’re hiding.

He doesn’t ask “Where are you?” in order to find you.

He asks, “ Where are you? ” in order for you to find yourself.

One of my favorite quotes is by the Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard, “With God’s help, I shall become myself.”

This is my heartfelt prayer for you.

Settle it in your mind right now:

You matter.

Stop hiding.

Your life is a gift the world has yet to open.

The Things a Mom Carries

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 09 May 2022 03:02:38 GMT

It starts with a God-given dream nestled in the imagination of a young girl.

Visions wound tight—rarely spoken—tucked away in the crevice of her heart.

She dares not speak, for fear it will never come to pass.

Oh, the hopes a mom carries.

A shooting star crashes to the earth as the sonogram is placed in her hand.

She proudly displays the evidence on her fridge and stows it in her purse for the world to see.

Staring at the profile of her tiny baby, envisioning her daddy’s nose and her grandma’s smile.

Oh, the dreams a mom carries.

Nine months pass and the big day arrives.

The weight of her responsibility is sensed not only in her physical body but in her spirit.

Hours of pain are forgotten the instant her everything is swaddled and laid upon her chest

Oh, the joy a mom carries.

Her entire world strapped into a five-point-harness as the great unknown comes into view.

Panic and doubt are the hosts of her welcome-home party.

Who am I to raise this child? Do I have what it takes?

Oh, the fears a mom carries.

Memorizing the worn-out pages of What to Expect When You’re Expecting .

Her diaper bag busting at the seams with onesies, burp clothes, and pacifiers,

Her google search history filled with parenting questions and concerns.

Oh, the worries a mom carries.

Like a dutiful reporter, she documents and records milestones and memories.

Albums chock-full of first haircuts, first birthdays, and first bike rides.

Treasuring every construction paper creation and pet rock in her hope chest.

Oh, the things a mom carries.

Time speeds up at such a rate, she finds herself suffering from whiplash.

Her purse crammed with tissues, her hands filled with roses.

Dressed in cap and gown, her child walks across the stage as she wipes away the tears.

Oh, the grief a mom carries.

Walking by the empty bedroom, waiting for a visit, a text, a call.

Time and distance hammers a wedge between generations.

With one thing left to do, she busts through the doors of heaven interceding on their behalf.

Hands shaking, she drops the weight of her worries at the feet of Jesus.

Oh, the burdens a mom carries.

“I can’t carry this anymore. It’s too heavy.”

Her shameful gaze meets Jesus’ gracious smile.

“I’ve been waiting 20 years for you to drop this.

You were never meant to CARRY your children but to OFFER them up to me.

Motherhood doesn’t begin the day you CARRY A CHILD.

Motherhood starts the day you RELEASE A CHILD into my hands.

Well done my good and faithful servant.

I’ll take it from here.”

3 Radical Truths to Remember to Conquer Your Mom Guilt

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 25 Apr 2022 03:05:33 GMT

“I hate you, you fat b*tch!” My 5-year-old daughter screamed as the nurse prepped the needle.

Everyone in the room, including my husband and I picked our jaws up off the floor. We had spent a frustrating week at Boston Children’s Hospital and we all wanted to scream profanities, only my daughter didn’t a have a filter.

“ Where did you learn to swear like that? ” My husband inquired while gritting his teeth.

“Head Start,” Emma pouted matter-a-factly.

Head Start had given my daughter a head start—on swearing.

As parents, it was embarrassing.

As pastors, it was mortifying.

When I wasn’t stressing about the mass in my daughter’s chest—I was laden with guilt as a mom.

Where did we go wrong?

Maybe we didn’t discipline her enough?

Why is she so angry?

The truth is, behind every great kid is a mom who is sure she is screwing it all up.

But guilt isn’t based upon facts but originates from the Liar himself.

And every lie has a root.

Guilt’s root: I’m not doing enough.

Whether you’re a working mother who beats herself up about the time spent away, or a stay-at-home mom who finds herself resenting her kids, we all experience the overwhelming sense that we aren’t cut out for the job.

Guess what? You’re not.

We all suck at parenting when we start.

If you don’t think you’re selfish—have a child. I guarantee within forty-eight hours between midnight feedings and diaper explosions, you’ll realize how self-centered you truly are.

Every one of us is in desperate need of God’s grace. Grace is the undeserved favor of God demonstrated by Jesus’ death for every one of our screwups. We don’t have what it takes to be a good parent. We need buckets of grace to bridge the chasm between our intentions and our failures.

In traditional Japanese art, liquid gold is used to bind together fragments of broken pottery. Each crack is etched in gold leaf and formed into a new creation—one in which its brokenness and faults are completely apparent—yet stunning because of His grace.

Ask for God’s grace and let him make you into a new creation.

We can’t give what we don’t have.

Several years ago, I lost the diamond from my engagement ring. I swept every nook of our home with no luck. That night, my son found me crying in the kitchen. Without saying a word, he ran upstairs to grab his piggybank and shook in out onto the counter. Out plopped three quarters and a mound of pennies.

"Here mom, buy yourself a new diamond,” Jeremiah gleamed with pride.

“ Oh Honey, I love that you would give me all your money, but it’s not enough.”

I would never expect my son to supply the funds to replace my engagement ring, yet we oftentimes put expectations on ourselves and others to give what they don’t have.

Maybe your parents grew up in a cold home where work, not love was the priority.

Maybe you never heard the words, “I love you” as a child.

Maybe you are suffering through a divorce, an illness, or loss and are struggling to be the parent you know your child deserves .

Listen to me, you can't give what you don't have. (Refer back to Point #1)

Your child is on loan. They aren’t yours, they’re His.

“For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted my petition. Therefore, I have given him to the Lord…” (1 Samuel 1:28)

There is a story in the Bible about a mom named Hannah. For years, she struggled with infertility and continually poured her soul out to God, begging for a baby. Eventually, Hannah finds herself pregnant with a son whom she names Samuel, meaning “ God hears."

Yet this isn’t the most miraculous part of the story. Once Samuel is weaned, at three years old, Hannah presents her son to Eli the priest and leaves him to be raised in the temple.

The greatest gift a mother can give her child is to entrust them to God—after all, He’s their real Dad and he loves them far more than we ever could.

Light Used to Live Here

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 16 Apr 2022 02:42:55 GMT

I skimmed my fingertips across the chipped stone as the ocean breeze filled my nostrils. Squinting upward at the lantern room, I imagined how many stairs you would have to climb to reach the top. I sipped my latte and sat in silence, gazing up at the weathered lighthouse from the jagged shore.

Such peace.

Such beauty.

Such potential.

I yelled to my hubby over the roar of the tide, “I feel like we’re in a postcard!”

Maine had always be en a destination on my bucket list. It was more beautiful than I imagined. Yet visiting lighthouse after lighthouse became a bittersweet expedition. There was a reoccurring thought I could not shake:

Light used to live here .

Something about this notion made me sad.

There are only a handful of operational lighthouses remaining in the United States . H arbors now utilize electronic navigational systems, resulting in most lighthouse turning into empty shells light once lived in.

I know some shells light once lived in…

My little sister, whose giggle was infectious. Who dreamed of being a bus driver. Who skipped around the neighborhood and stubbornly waited 6 hours at the corner for the ice-cream truck. Light used to live here.

My best friend, whose teenage-self was bursting with God-dreams. Who would roll Hershey™ kiss wrappers into tiny little balls and flick them at my head. Who hugged me so tight every time we said goodbye. Light used to live here.

The youth in my ministry who have come and gone. Hearts burning for Jesus. Radical. Willing to do anything for God.

Then.
Life.
Happened.

Light used to live here.

When things get real dark, it’s easy to get lost at sea.

But the truth is this: People can’t be it until they can see it.

This is where you and I come in. Jesus said :

“You are the light of the world - like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.

No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket.” (Matt 5:14-15)

My son Isaac is afraid of the dark. One night , he c ame into my room sobb ing because his older brother had sn uck out of bed, unplug ged his nightlight, and hid it. Another time, he accidentally threw his comforter over top of the nightlight and woke up petrified . I fumble d around the pitch-dark room searching for his lost light.

That's the thing about light...

L ight can't be destroyed.

Light can't be extinguished.

The only way to defeat light is to hide it or cover it.

D arkness is nothing in and of itself.

Darkness is merely the absence of light.

The world isn’t dark right now because of a pandemic , or a president, or a corrupt government. The world is dark because far too many Christians are hiding their lights in their underwear drawer. Jesus called himself the light of the world and then left us with the same job description. What a great responsibility we have.

“How can people call for help if they don’t know who to trust? And how can they know who to trust if they haven’t heard of the One who can be trusted? And how can they hear if nobody tells them? And how is anyone going to tell them, unless someone is sent to do it. ” (Romans 10:15 MSG)

Stand up.

Fling off the basket of insecurity you’ve been hiding under.

Open your mouth.

Climb the winding staircase to the top of the lantern room and shine.

There is a dark world waiting on you .

Stealing the Ball

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 03 Apr 2022 02:34:59 GMT

A few years ago, I was an assistant coach for a kindergarten basketball team.

Every Saturday morning, kids flooded the gym hyped up on adrenaline and Timbits. Our objective was to reinforce the basics: dribbling, shooting, and passing. B ut for the last practice, we introduced a new game. Each child was to dribbl e their own ball with in the circle of center court. The goal was to knock the ball out of your opponent's hand. The last man standing would be declared the winner.

When the game commenced, the most seasoned player, Ben, swatted the ball repeatedly from the others, causing it to roll across the court.

“You’re out Zoey! ” I mumbled with the whistle between my lips.

Zoey froze and glared up at me in horror. Alligator tears welled in her eyes.

“ Ben is mean! He hit my ball right out of my hand! ”

“ Honey, he's supposed to. That’s the point of the game. It’s called stealing.”

I realized in that moment , none of the kids knew what it felt like to have their ball stolen. It was a shock to their systems. We spent the whole season working individually on their skills . They had never played a game.

“Why would you let him do that?” Zoey stammered in between sobs while waving her tiny finger at me.

I was being reprimanded by a five-year-old.

She stormed off the court and into her mother’s arms, vowing to never play basketball again.

Many of us have stormed off the court of life in this same fashion.

John 10:10 states, “ The thief comes except to STEAL, kill, and destroy. But I (Jesus) have come that you may have life, and have it to the full.”

Something of great value was stolen from you:

A loved one.

A marriage.

A dream.

Your health.

It's not supposed to be this way.

I know the feeling. My oldest daughter Mara was diagnosed with autism in 2012. It took a full year for me to catch my breath and sense a glimmer of hope when I thought about the future. During this time, we decided to trust God and conceive another baby. My greatest fear, the fear I dared not speak aloud:

What if my son has autism too?

Three years later, my son was also diagnosed with the same six-letter word.

Why would God allow this to happen—not once—but twice?

The One with the whistle in his mouth, the Big Man who calls the shots, stood by and did nothing.

How could a loving God not intervene? Like Zoey, staring up at me in shock, our hearts well with anger and we refuse to play on his team anymore. If we can’t trust the Coach—then we’re out.

A spirit of passivity overtakes us.

We lose heart.

And to lose heart, is to lose everything.

Why?

Because it skews our perspective.

We become victims of the one who robbed us, rather than victors of the One who saved us.

Our anger is valid, but what if it’s pointed at the wrong person?

Listen to me, the ball was stolen from you because you are a great threat and the strategy of the opposing team is to take out the best players first.

The enemy m ay have stolen the ball, but I promise you, we will win the game.

“The Kingdom of God suffered violence, and the violent take it by force.”

-Matthew 11:12

3 Takeaways From the War in Ukraine

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 28 Mar 2022 02:46:40 GMT

Imagine trying to fit everything you love into one suitcase.

I’d pack my adoption hoodie, my grandma’s Bible, our baby albums, and my MacBook.

Now, imagine your house is on fire and you only have thirty seconds to fill up the same suitcase.

The truth is, I wouldn’t lug any " thing" .

I would pile my five kids in that rolling luggage and get the heck out of there.

Over 2.2 million Ukrainian women and children have fled the country. Forsaking their houses, their husbands, and their homeland—these brave women have had to whittle their lives down to a single suitcase.

A video is circulating on social media of a Ukrainian man saying goodbye to his daughter and wife. I couldn’t stop watching it, each time my eyes welled with tears. I can’t fathom kissing my family goodbye with no guarantee of ever seeing them again.

For the last 75 years, the United States has lived in a bubble. We think this comfortable life is normal, but it’s not. A glance back in history will reveal chaos is normal. Upheaval is normal. Instability is normal. And there is something about this war that feels close to home. We weep as we watch YouTube videos of Ukrainians fleeing, and we toss at night with the fear of an oncoming war on our soil.

I pray this war will give you something rather than take something away

Perspective.

Do you know what matters when you’re fleeing for your life?

Nothing.

Material Things Don’t Matter

The car you leased doesn’t matter, your giant house with the massive mortgage doesn’t matter, your new camper doesn’t matter, your closet stuffed with clothes you never wear doesn’t matter—even your 401K and cushy job don’t matter.

As Americans, we spent the first 2/3 of our lives acquiring stuff that we don’t need only to spend the last 1/3 getting rid of it.

Hearses don’t come equipped with a hitch to lug a U-haul. Not a single thing we own will make it past the pearly gates.

Life is short.

“I wish I had more time. I let little things get between us. I spent weeks not talking to my mom because of petty arguments. I was always too busy—to visit, to call, to care,” my friend Amanda said while wiping her nose with her sleeve.

"One minute my mom was healthy, and the next week she was gone."

The Bible speaks of the fleetingness of life, “ You do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is a vapor that appears for a moment and then vanishes away.” (James 4:14)

There is a day most of us are too busy to think about: “The Last Day”.

The last day you will see your spouse.

The last day you will see your parents.

The last day you will see your kids.

The last day you will see your best friend.

None of us will know when this day will be and none of us will have a warning.

People matter. Things don’t.

Eternity is long.

The only transferable resource we can carry with us into heaven are people. We have a brief window of time to make an eternal impact on those around us.

I once saw a pastor preach on eternity using a visual illustration that will forever be engrained in my memory. He dragged a long rope up to the front. The end of the rope was wrapped in red duct tape. He held up the duct-taped three inch section for the congregation to see.

“ This rope represents our lives. Just as it seems to go on and on, we too are eternal beings. Yet we spend most of our energy worrying about this tiny three inch section known as our lives on this earth. Doesn’t that seem like a monumental waste of time?”

Don't squander your existence making red duct tape your focal point.

" Everything that is not eternal is worthless in eternity." - C.S. Lewis

10 Things My 40-Year Old Self Would Tell My 20-Year-Old Self

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 21 Mar 2022 02:44:15 GMT

I turned the big 4-0 last year and it wasn’t as rough as I anticipated.I’ve settled into my own skin and learned that rest isn’t found in an afternoon nap, but rather hitting the pause button on the constant striving I had been known for.

If I could look my twenty-year-old self square in the eyes, I would lift her chin, laugh at how serious she takes life, and tell her this:

Stop trying to be perfect.

People don’t love you because you’re perfect—they love you because you’re not. You may impress people with your strengths, but you connect to people in your weakness. As a young adult, you’ll feel alone, and this will be half your problem.

Not all men are evil.

I know you’d rather be alone than be hurt again. Don’t lose hope. Contrary to popular belief, there are still men who love Jesus and most of them can be found at church. Stay away from bars, clubs, and online dating sites. If you go fishing in a swamp, you’ll catch a snake every time.

You can’t make real friends with fake people.

(Refer back to #1.) If you aren’t authentic and vulnerable, how do you expect others to be? True friendship is birthed in the raw moments where you share your heart and the other person perks up and states, “You too? I thought I was the only one.”

College is not the key to success.

Contrary to your guidance counselor’s advice, college is a monumental waste of time if you don’t know what you’re called to do. Ask God to direct your path and don’t be afraid to take the unconventional route. If you do enroll in college, try not to go into massive debt. Otherwise, you’ll pay more every month on your school loans than you will on your mortgage.

Nothing given to God is ever wasted.

Following Jesus is hands down the best decision I’ve ever made. Surrender everything to God and watch him multiple it. This is included but not limited to; your future, your spouse, your career, your children, your heartache, your worries, your fears, you hopes, your talents, and your entire life.

Enjoy your time in the bathroom.

I know, it sounds weird. But once you have kids, the minute you sit on the toilet, someone will holler your name. You will never take a hot shower in silence again. Soak it all in while you can.

Talent matters a little, obedience matters a lot.

Right now, your schedule is packed with music lessons, sports practices, and study sessions. You hope to snag the scholarship or be drafted into the major leagues—and I hate to break it to you—YOU WON’T BE. Someone will always be better than you. Rather, invest your time in cultivating a relationship with God, learn to hear his voice, and follow his directives. He writes far better stories than you ever will.

People will talk behind your back whether you do good or bad—so do good.

You care far too much about what other’s think. Friends will talk behind your back your entire life. People will speak ill of you whether you’ve accomplished great things for God or whether you’re pulled over for a DWI in your Sponge Bob pajamas. So, why not give them something good to talk about?

Be the gum ball machine that doesn’t require quarters.

There are two types of people in this world: those who measure how much they give based upon their return on investment, and those who love without reservation. The former are angry and bitter. The latter have more joy than they can contain. Be the gum ball machine that doesn’t require quarters—give freely and never require anything in return.

Spend time with your family.

Do you want to know what is more valuable than money? Time. It's the only commodity you can't make more of. When you're young, it feels as if you’re rich with time but the clock hands whirl faster than you can imagine. Call your siblings. Make the trek home each Christmas. Spend time with your parents, because before you know it, there will be an empty chair at the Thanksgiving table.

P.S. - Invest in this little company called Apple Computers…I have a hunch.

P.S.S. - Stop over-plucking your eyebrows. You’ll regret it the rest of your life.

Unexpected Dinner Guests

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 12 Mar 2022 15:46:39 GMT

This table symbolizes a dream in my heart.

I’ve always wanted a giant table.

Newly married, we lived in a studio apartment and our kitchen consisted of two chairs and a table the size of a TV tray.

When our family began to grow, my parents gave us their dining room set—and although it was a huge upgrade—it still could not seat all seven of us.

I think desiring an 8-ft table was less about the actually piece of furniture and more about the scene I envisioned—all my kids gathered around, feasting, laughing, and stealing food off each other’s plates.

As time passed, this aspiration seemed to fade.

Having two kiddos with severe autism makes family meals nearly impossible.

Due to the noise and unpredictability, my daughter Mara refuses to eat with us and spends every meal alone in her room.

This table is bittersweet—reminding me of what COULD be and what IS.

God speaks of such a table:

“You set a TABLE before me, in the the PRESENCE of my enemies.” (Psalm 23:5)

David penned this psalm. I think sometimes we glorify people in the Bible. When we think of David, we think of “a man after God’s own heart” , a King, a giant slayer.

Yet David’s life was messed up:

He had an affair with Bethesda.

He murdered Bethesda’s husband.

Their first baby died at birth.

His daughter Tamar was raped by her brother.

Then Absolam kills his brother in revenge.

Absolam refuses to talk to his dad for years.

David forgives & restores Absolam as a prince.

Absolam leads a violent overthrow of his dad’s kingdom, causing David to flee for his life.

Yet God was with David and used him mightily.

Your mess doesn't disqualify you from being used by God.

You will have trouble in this life. You will have enemies sitting right at your table.

There may be sickness, miscarriage, death, or loss BUT…

In the middle of the madness God will:

CELEBRATE you.

PROTECT you.

PROVIDE for all your needs.

USE you.

Stop waiting for the mess to disappear .

It won’t.

Yet when this life is over, we will sit at the biggest banquet table ever. And all the enemies who harassed you will no longer be sitting next to you but will be under Jesus’ feet.

In the Eyes of an Addict

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 28 Feb 2022 04:46:14 GMT

In the eyes of an addict, I see weariness.

Not the nine-to-five exhaustion of a busy day, but an ocean of weariness—kicking and clawing for a breath—only for another wave to drag them under.

In the eyes of an addict, I see shame.

Not guilt that can be dusted off and forgotten, but shame that engulfs one’s entire being. They don’t do bad, they are bad.

In the eyes of an addict, I hear a silent scream.

Not a momentary cry for help, but the wailing of a soul in desperate need of liberation.

In the eyes of an addict, I smell the stench of regret.

Not temporary remorse for a wrong, but an eternal regret for never measuring up to the life they envisioned.

In the eyes of an addict, I hear the rattling of chains.

Not the shackles fastened to a wrist, but chains fettered around a heart—unable to love others because they can’t possibly love themselves.

In the eyes of an addict, I taste hopelessness.

Not a fleeting despair, but the utter hopelessness experienced from scrutinizing a giant chalkboard of regrets and failures.

In the eyes of an addict—if I’m brutally honest—I see myself.

Yet in the darkness, a door creaks open and light floods the room.

Ashamed and afraid, I do the one thing I do best—hide.

Blinded by the glow, I strain to see who would dare enter, as footsteps pace across the floor.

My pupils adjust and the outline of a figure comes into view. He stands and stares at the report of my life, carefully examining my long list of faults.

I bury my head in shame and pray for the stranger to leave.

Yet he remains.

Suddenly, a droplet of water lands on my finger, and then another on my arm.

I raise my head and peer out of the corner of my eye, only to discover this mysterious man dousing my chalkboard with bucket after bucket of water.

Tiny rivers of grace trickle over my sins until my slate is spotless, as my weary eyes catch a glimmer of love for the very first time.

Essential Church

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 20 Feb 2022 05:03:00 GMT

In March of 2020, the world resembled a ghost town. In order to “flatten the curve”, the government required us to hunker down in our homes and avoid all travel unless it was deemed essential.

The Oxford Dictionary defines essential as absolutely necessary.

Grocery stores topped the list.

Big Macs are apparently indispensable.

Even liquor stores were regarded as necessary for us to function as a society.

Yet church never made the cut.

I heard a Christian podcaster share a thought that has rattled in my brain for weeks:

“ As a society, we have to come to grips with the fact we have consented to the governments stance that gathering together for church is non-essential.”

To be fair, this is the first global pandemic. We don’t have a giant yellow Pandemic Protocol for Dummies book to reference. But if any group of people could relate to a world in a state of unrest, it would be the early church.

“Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another…” (Hebrews 10:23-25)

The Book of Hebrews was written to Christians who were all too familiar with persecution.

After the stoning of Stephen, the Roman government began oppressing the church. Many believers were dragged from their homes and thrown in prison, causing the early church to scatter. Some were torn to death by dogs. Others were crucified. There were even accounts of Christians being set on fire and used as human torches at night.

Yet they continued to gather together—knowing full well they were risking their lives to do so.

Jesus laid down his life for the church.

James was beheaded.

Peter was crucified upside down.

Paul was whipped, beaten, imprisoned and shipwrecked—twice.

Yet we struggle to muster up enough energy to crawl out of our pjs and head to church on Sunday?

3 Reasons Why Church is Essential

We can’t stir ourselves up.

The last two years have left most of us exhausted, discouraged, and lonely. Contrary to popular belief, we can't grab an electric mixer, plop it in our soul, add dash of positive thinking, and whip up love and good works.Self motivation never works—I've tried. A person can practice faith and hope independently—but love—love never occurs in isolation. We need someone to stir it up within us.

Hebrews 10:24 refers to this stirring. The word used is actually translated as incitement. As humans, we tend to let the truths of God settle to the bottom of our to-do list. We need others to stir up the gifts God has placed in us and compel us to love.

God shows up.

God is everywhere, yet he has reserved the grand demonstration of his presence and power for when believers gather together.

“ If two of you agree on earth concerning anything you ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. Where two or more are gathered, there I am in your midst. ” (Matthew 18:19-20)

The Greek word for agree means to “ symphonize” . Just as the single note of a cello can’t begin to compare to a great orchestra harmonizing together—God’s power and beauty are magnified when we gather in his name.

There’s no place like home.

Most Christians have heard the parable of the lost sheep. We love the idea of Jesus being the good shepherd who rescues us when we wander from him. The story goes that when Jesus found the sheep, he joyfully put it on his shoulders and returned home.

But here is the part we often overlook, when Jesus left the 99 to find the one who was lost, he didn’t just restore the sheep to himself . He restored the lost one to the flock of sheep he had left behind.

Jesus’s sole intent was to carry the poor sheep home—and he wants to do the same for you.

When Your Life Gets Too Busy for Friends

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 07 Feb 2022 03:53:08 GMT

As most women approach middle age, we come to two startling revelations:

We have grandma-hands.
We don’t have friends.

I don’t know when it happened but somewhere between the wedding, the positive pregnancy test, the 9-to-5 clock punching, the explosive diaper changing, and the glorified-Uber driving, I woke up one day and realized I don’t have many friends.

I used to beat myself up about this. My OCD-self bought a planner and created a systematic way to equally invest in my friendships. But it felt forced and my busy life kept stealing the hours away I intended to devote to this cause.

My favorite example of friendship in the Bible is David and Jonathan. They possessed a bond that could not be broken, yet they were polar opposites.

Jonathan was royalty.

David was a neglected shepherd boy that even his own dad forgot about.

But God in his divine grace, caused their paths to cross. They had nothing in common but the Bible states the minute they met: “The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. ” (I Samuel 18:1-3)

Sound’s like love friendship at first sight.

Someone once told me, “It takes time to BUILD a solid friendship.”

Yet when I think about it, my closest friendships aren’t something I CONSTRUCTED. I never deposited coins into a piggy bank and when it was full my best friend popped out.

I didn’t need to reread “ How to Win Friends and Influence People ” ten times to earn them.

True friendship is organic. Spontaneous. Mysterious. Divine. A Gift.

No one knows why you click—you just do.

BUILDING on the other hand, is logical, calculated—a step-by-step process.

Yet true friendship is like a ball of yarn, I unravel and roll across the floor when my true friends are around.

I’m not meticulously building something—I’m actually deconstructing the false walls I had up all day.

What if we don’t need to juggle dozens of superficial relationships? What if we only need one or two Jonathan’s who can look past our mask and right into our heart?

True friendship is walking in to someone’s home, ripping out your hair tie, putting on their comfy pjs, and helping yourself to the food in their fridge.

True friendship is eating an entire gallon of ice-cream while sitting on the floor of their kitchen laughing hysterically about the craziness of your day.

True friendship is being fully known by someone, bearing your soul, and in that vulnerable place—they love you more than they did the day before.

The Things Covid Stole

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 31 Jan 2022 01:24:45 GMT

Maybe Covid stole the hand you once held.

Maybe he snatched a seat at your Thanksgiving table.

Maybe he hid your smile, robbing you of joy.

Maybe he ripped your job right out from under you.

Maybe he incited arguments with friends that are no more.

Maybe he cancelled a wedding, a reunion, or a vacation you desperately needed.

Maybe Covid roused a beast of anger within you that you never knew existed.

Maybe he removed you from church, which left you worshipping through a screen.

Maybe he kidnapped your childlike faith that once proclaimed: “ God is good.”

For all the things Covid stole—WE DECLARE WAR!

And how do we fight this invisible battle?

In a world that insists on taking —we give.

Give the shopping cart to the old lady at Aldi’s and refuse to take her quarter.

Give the car behind you in the drive-thru a meal on the house.

Give the like button a click when jealousy rises and screams, “Scroll on by! ”

Give the waiter who screwed up your order a big tip, just because.

Give your kids your full attention, even when they ramble on about video games.

Give the last twenty dollars in your checking account to the GoFundMe campaign.

Give grace for every cupboard door left open and every cereal bowl on the floor.

Give your time and your listening ear to those who are in worst shape than you.

Give thanks for the giant snow banks, sub-zero temperatures, and freezing rain.

Give praise to God for the very air you breathe and the healthy lungs that inhale it.

Give.

And then keep on giving.

Give until it hurts.

Give through the hurt.

And as you do—you won’t discover more hurt—but more love.

Giving makes way for healing.

Giving is the ventilator for our soul, pumping God’s goodness deep within.

Giving doesn’t sustain you, it revives you.

In a world that takes so much—GIVE.

Running on Empty

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 22 Jan 2022 02:45:26 GMT

It was an ordinary day. But God is always on the edge of heaven waiting to transform your ordinary into something extraordinary.

I’m a creature of habit. Each morning, I satisfy my caffeine addiction by venturing to Tim Horton’s.

“Medium regular.”

I whipped out my wallet, barely acknowledging the human on the other side of the window. As I grabbed the coffee, my eyes met those of the young employee.

Tell that man he’s a good dad.

Like an email notification, the thought popped in my mind with a bing. It was not my thought. I wondered if he was even old enough to have kids.

At that moment, I had a choice. I could swipe left and drag the crazy thought to the trash and continue on with my super-important day filled with super-important things—or I could double click on it and believe God was speaking to me.

“God wants you to know you’re a good dad,” I blurted out awkwardly.

And just when I thought he was going to certify me as insane, the man’s eyes welled with tears. Trying to hide his emotion, he looked down and fumbled with my coffee lid.

“I’m a single dad. I had no clue what I was doing the first year, but I’m getting the hang of it,” he smiled and thanked me repeatedly.

As I drove away, I felt a sensation I had not experienced in a long time—I felt full. Jesus refers to this sentiment as “ spiritual food” . In John Chapter 4, his friends are worried about Jesus’ physical well-being. I can picture the disciple John sporting his fanny pack and acting like a Karen:

" Jesus, it’s been twelve hours since your last meal. You look famished. Did you eat the snack pack of figs I brought? Have you had enough electrolytes today?”

Jesus’ response?

“I have food to eat you know nothing about.”

His friends foolishly concluded Jesus must have a secret stash, like the bag of M&M’s hidden in your underwear drawer which only emerges when the kids are fast asleep. Yet Jesus wasn’t talking about literal food. He was referring to a fullness in one’s soul, which only occurs from hearing God’s voice and obeying.

What if the empty feeling we struggle with isn’t because our life doesn’t measure up? Maybe emptiness is a compass, an inner voice screaming: “There is more! ” Maybe emptiness is the hunger pains of a soul created for purpose and that purpose isn’t satisfied by slick cars, fancy lattes, and trips to Disney. Maybe the void is a result of consuming empty calories that don’t nourish our spirits.

God once showed me a picture of my life. I found myself alone in a cave consumed by darkness. I spent years staring at the cave wall, wallowing in self pity, waiting for someone to save me. At some point, I heard a voice whisper, “Turn around.”

I ignored this voice—paralyzed by fear—until I mustered the nerve to move. As I turned, sunlight rushed toward me. The opening of the cave laid up ahead and all that was required was for me to walk toward the light.

How many years have we wasted staring at a cave wall? Emptiness is the echo we hear in the cavern of selfish living. We were created to be loved and to love.

The word repentance in the Bible means to turn around—to change direction— and when you catch a glimmer of his light, it changes everything.

What Kind of World Will My Kids Grow Up In?

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 17 Jan 2022 04:42:52 GMT

Sometimes when my kids are fast asleep and their little chubby cheeks are squished against the pillow, I stare at them in awe. I admire my daughter’s beautiful locks, my son’s gorgeous eyebrows, or the adorable ptoo sound my little guy makes when he exhales.

Then, like clockwork, in the middle of this sacred moment—a knot forms in my stomach—and fear cracks open the door serving this one thought to torment me:

What kind of world will my kids grow up in?

Quarantines are now a “normal” part of life. My kids own more masks than they do underwear. (And they’re just as dirty.) Students haven’t seen the smiling faces of their teachers in two years. My children take at-home Covid tests like daily vitamins.

Things are not as they should be.

As I tossed and turned last night, God reminded me of a Bible verse:

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but later we will see face to face. Now I know in part, but later I shall know completely, just as I also am known.” (I Corinthians 13:12)

It’s as if we’re wearing those 3D glasses you get at the movie theater but we are walking in broad daylight. Our vision is blurred. We can’t see what God is up to. We are in the middle of the greatest redemption film but we hit a scary scene. It’s ok to admit that. It doesn’t make you a weak Christian. It makes you honest.

Unfortunately, we can’t fast-forward through the frightening scenes. If you’re like me, you’re never going to figure the plot out either. We may want to cover our eyes, yet at the same time we must keep moving forward. But how?

When my son was diagnosed with autism, I struggled for months as this one thought ran rampant in my mind:

It’s not fair. Why did I get dealt this hand in life?

I believed having two children with severe autism was a curse that had befallen upon me by a stroke of bad luck. I threw one pity party after another until one night Jesus stopped in my tracks and flipped a switch in my heart.

He said, “ What you claim is a CURSE you must be delivered from, is actually an HONOR I bestowed upon you. I gave you two special needs children because you are highly favored and I trust you explicitly.”

May God flip the switch in your heart today. Hear the voice of your Father proclaim the same over you:

You and your children were born for such a time as this.

Living during this time in history is not a CURSE but an HONOR.

I chose you for this exact moment because I explicitly trust you.

I gifted you with everything you need to bring about the next great awakening.

Get excited.

Grab your popcorn.

The movie isn’t over and if you haven’t read the book, we win!

The Idealist

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 09 Jan 2022 02:38:21 GMT

“Faith is like jumping off a cliff, ” Greg said with a smirk on his face.

“ What if we find the highest spot on campus and jump as a symbol of surrendering our lives to God?”

“ You’re insane! ” My roommate blurted out. “ Talk some sense into him. He’s your crazy boyfriend.”

“I think he’s on to something,” I agreed as I dragged my roommate by the arm.

“You see this all the time in the Bible. God asks people to do something in the natural in order for something to shift in the spiritual.”

With a little prodding, Greg, my roommate, and I found the tallest wall on campus and sat with our legs dangling over the side. Before we could exchange words, Greg leapt off and landed with a thud onto the grass below.

A few minutes later, I hung off the edge by my fingertips and dropped to the ground, rolling my ankle.

“ Dang! That hurt. I won’t do that again. ” I yelled to my roommate who was still perched on the wall with a look of sheer terror plastered on her face.

I can laugh at this story now but I was reminded of this moment after someone called me an idealist yesterday. It was not meant to be a compliment.

The truth is, there are 3 Types of People on this planet and our crazy leap of faith was the perfect case study:

THE FEARFUL - these poor souls live in a perpetual state of terror. “ What if ” scenarios run rampant in their minds. The thought of stepping out in faith makes them want to run, hide, and pee their pants in the process.

The Fearful like to play it safe. They call the Idealist crazy and irrational.

THE JADED - previously an Idealist, the Jaded took a leap of faith and fell—hard. They now limp through life and function in survival mode.

The Jaded question if God is real and speculate if purpose is just a cheesy inspirational running poster.

THE IDEALIST - they naively believe God is with them, for them, and working through them.

An Idealist is a visionary who pursues a higher purpose. A person who represents things as they should be , rather than as they are.

The Jaded view Idealists as naive, claiming they have yet to experience the harsh realities of life.

Yet Jesus was the greatest Idealist to ever walk the planet—and boy did he suffer. He was able to endure the cross for the JOY that was set before him. (Hebrews 12:2)

History is filled with Idealists who faced their fears, looked beyond their suffering, and changed the world:

Abraham Lincoln - an Idealist to the core. While the nation raged against each other in war, Lincoln fought to end slavery and painted a vision of unity that made our country what it is today.

Corrie Ten Boom - Corrie and her family spent years hiding Jews in their home from the Nazis during the Holocaust. Even after she was caught and sent to a concentration camp herself, Corrie pleaded with everyone to forgive their oppressors.

Martin Luther King Jr. - He had a dream—a naive, idealistic, amazing dream of equality. This dream cost Martin his life—a price an Idealist is willing to pay.

D.L. Moody - made a resolution that he would never let 24 hours pass without speaking to one person about Jesus. Somedays, he forgot and would climb out of bed at 11 PM and wander the streets looking for someone he could talk to about eternity.

So, the next time someone calls you naive, childlike, or an Idealist—thank them. It is a compliment. And rest in the fact your life is a pleasing aroma to God.

“For it’s impossible to please God without faith remaining an idealist .” (Hebrews 11:6)

The Main Grind Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 20 Dec 2021 02:03:37 GMT

The Main Grind's Famous

Chocolate Chip Cookie

by Greg & Jessica Hurlbut

Total 30 mins, includes cooling time

Makes 36 servings

Ingredients

5 cups of white flour
2 teaspoons of baking soda
2 cups of butter, melted (4 sticks)
1 cup of brown sugar
1/2 cup of white sugar
2 packages of vanilla instant pudding (*TOP SECRET INGREDIENT!!!)
4 eggs
2 teaspoons of vanilla
3 cups of chocolate chips

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Cream together the butter, brown sugar, and white sugar until thoroughly blended.
Beat in the vanilla pudding mix, followed by the eggs and vanilla.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour and baking soda and add it to the sugar mixture slowly.(This will be hard to stir and you will need a wooden spoon toward the end.)
Add the chocolate chips and mix well.
Bake on an ungreased cookie sheet for 8 minutes. (The cookies won't appear done but allow them to cool on the cookie sheet for ten extra minutes.)
Enjoy!!! But don't you share this recipe...its top secret!!!

Awakening Awe

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 20 Dec 2021 01:48:53 GMT

“How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow?

Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.”

James 4:14

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the freckle on the tip of your daughter’s nose

O r the pencil on the door frame as your son grows.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the grey wisp of hair over your grandma's eyes

O r the brisk gentle breeze as you say your goodbyes.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the newborn’s hand as they grasp your finger.

Or the alligator tears as you yank out the stinger.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the cardinals flitting in the blue above.

Or the etching in stone on the grave of your love.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the weathered rope swing where kids us e d to play

Or the rouge on her cheek as you give her away.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the quivering lip of your elderly mother.

Or the stranger who holds the door for the other.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the grains of sand as they slip through the glass

Or the seasons of souls as they change and they pass.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the fog that sweeps with the morning dawn

Or the life near one instant, the n the next breath is gone.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the infant King nestled in the stall

Subduing death which once conquered us all.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

What to Do When Prayer Doesn't Seem to Work

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 13 Dec 2021 04:20:36 GMT

“ I don’t get prayer ,” my friend confessed as she sipped her caramel macchiato.

“ I begged God to heal my mom of cancer and she still died. Seems like a waste of time. If God is God, he is going to do whatever he wants whether I pray or not. I might as well spend my time shopping the sales rack at Target.”

Most people would be put off by her frankness, but I appreciate people who say the stuff everyone else is thinking.

If I’m brutally honest, sometimes prayer doesn’t seem to work.

For years I prayed for my daughter Mara to be healed of autism. Her meltdowns lasted hours and I knew this wasn’t the life God designed—for either of us. I even organized a 24/7 prayer rally where friends interceded for my daughter around the clock.

Still, no miracle.

It felt like prayer was the ripcord that failed me.

I admired prayer warriors but often felt this task was for the elderly woman who had nothing better to do than pray while she crocheted in her rocker. As a busy mom and a results-oriented person—if I don’t see change—I’m moving on to bigger and better things. (Like there are bigger or better things than the God of the universe.)

Sigh.

It’s hard to admit, but I’m sure I’m not alone.

I think the best way to understand prayer is if we dive into the first few lines when Jesus taught his followers how to pray. (Matthew 11:2-4)

‘ Our Father in heaven,

hallowed be your name…

Prayer is a Relationship

The starting point of prayer: God is our dad and we are his kids. If I know my Father's love for me, I can take "No" for an answer. If my dad withholds something from me—I may not like it—but I can trust he loves me nonetheless.

Genuine relationships aren't built on agendas. If I only approached my husband with a “honey-do” list, I’m not sure we would still be married today.

Your kingdom come,

your will be done…

Prayer is Not About What We Want

God is not a magical blue genie with the voice of Robin Williams. Prayer is not like flipping a coin into the water fountain at a Chinese restaurant and making a wish. We can share our wants and needs with God—but ultimately—God transforms our desires into his desires.

When I was twenty, I asked God daily for a Mitsubishi Spider. I’m sure he wasn’t mad I was praying for a sports car, but I’m not convinced my dream vehicle had anything to do with his kingdom.

As we mature as Christians, our prayers should mature too.

on earth as it is in heaven…

Prayer is the Key to the Kingdom

Imagine a warehouse chucked full of miracles. There are new hearts, kidneys, and limbs for those who are sick. There are healthy babies for couples who have suffered miscarriages. There are finances for those who are struggling to pay the rent. There are friends and spouses for those who are lonely.

Everything the world needs lies right behind that giant metal sliding door.

The only problem?

You and I have the keys.

It’s not our warehouse, but we were put in charge when the Owner left the country for a business trip.

Yet if we never step out in faith and lay hold of the authority given to us, no one will be able to access the resources within.

The Challenge

Set aside at least 15 minutes each day to talk to God.

Pray for the things on his heart.

If he's a good dad, you can trust his timing and ways.

Now, dig deep in your pockets and dust off the keys he has given you.

The Tribute

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 06 Dec 2021 03:11:07 GMT

“ Is God nice?” Emma questioned from the backseat as we pulled into the driveway.

“What do you think? ” I turned my head and peered into the darkness, only able to see the whites of her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she responded with sass.

“ He’s the nicest man you’ll ever meet.”

“ Really? How do you know? ” she asked as she grabbed her Propel water from the center console.

“I talk to him every day. Plus, he’s my dad.”

“Grampy is God?”

“No, Silly!” I laughed as we raced to the front door.

“ He’s my real dad. He’s everyone’s real dad. A lot of people just don’t know it yet.”

“ So, everyone is adopted? ” Emma inquired, still trying to wrap her brain around the concept.

“ Yes, Honey, everyone is adopted.”

I remind my adopted kiddos daily how special they are. My spiel sounds like this: Out of all the kids in the whole wide world , I chose to adopt YOU!

I can’t say that about my biological children. There is something unique about adoption—it’s a radical act of love geared toward a specific person.

Adoption is laser-love aimed at a precise target .

In Ephesians 1:5-6 Paul explains this laser-like love,

“God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.”

Oftentimes, we view God’s love like a blanket which covers the whole world. Although this analogy is true, this perspective makes God’s love feel generic and cheap.

If this is the way you see God, I would argue you don’t fully understand his love.

I often tell people, “ God loves everyone, but I’m his favorite.”

Why?

Because I have experienced firsthand the laser-like love of God.

God loves me because I caught his eye. God pursued me relentlessly. Like a man trying to win me over, God has wooed me to the point I can no longer say no.

This is the love of God—a laser-love and the red dot is pointing right at my heart.

Just as I love my husband more than coffee, my parents, my kids, and more than any other man on this planet—God's love must also be devoted completely to one—a laser-like love.

The exclusivity of love is what makes it powerful.

In the futuristic movie, The Hunger Games , annually one boy and one girl from the 12 Districts are chosen as “tributes” and forced to compete in an elaborate reality show where children have to fight to the death. The last child standing is the winner.

Prim was the 12-year old girl chosen from District 12 to compete in the games. Scared out of her mind, she slowly steps out from the crowd and walks toward the stage.

The whole crowd watches in terror as Prim’s mom sobs hysterically. When all hope seems lost—a voice calls out from the masses— “I volunteer as Tribute”.

The only way a child could be dismissed from their duty was for someone to volunteer in their place. Prim’s older sister Katniss couldn’t bear to see her sister suffer, so she made the ultimate sacrifice and chose to be her substitute.

Yet Katniss wouldn’t have sacrificed her life for just anyone. It was the immense love in her heart for her sister that compelled her to lay her life down.

God looked out at the masses and saw you.

Your name had been called.

Death and suffering lied ahead.

It seemed all hope was lost.

But a voice rose above the multitudes and all eyes turned to see God the Father.

“ I volunteer as Tribute. ”

Yet everyone knew this wasn’t possible, tributes had to be children.

As the crowd parted, God the Father pushed his 12-year-old son Jesus toward the stage as tears stream down his face.

“It’s ok, Son. You have to go.”

“I know, Dad,” Jesus said as his lip quivered, trying to be strong for his father.

And the rest, my friend, is "His"-story.

"For God so loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life." (Jn 3:16 The Message)

His Bark is Worse Than His Bite

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 29 Nov 2021 05:22:43 GMT

I popped in my Air Pods, laced up my sneakers, and hit the pavement. I was training for my first marathon on a quiet country road until my rendition of “ Believer ” was rudely interrupted by a blood-curdling scream.

As I jerked my head to see what the fuss was about, I came face-to-face with the jaws of a dog who was lunging toward my thigh. Blood streamed down my leg as I hobbled to the side of the road.

That dog was a monster.

I still have nightmares.

I still mistaken mailboxes for ravenous beasts ready to pounce when I’m out on a run.

Mind you, it was a Chihuahua.

But that’s beside the point.

Yet some of us view the devil like this vicious mutt—lurking around in the darkness—just waiting for the opportune time to attack.

As a teen, my youth pastor preached a message on the devil and it freaked me out. He quoted John 10:10 where Jesus teaches, “ The devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy. But I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly.”

I never focused much on the abundant life part.

I was more petrified by the steal, kill, and destroy part.

I spent the next ten years of my life living in fear that the enemy was going to break into my house, strike me down with cancer, or have some random drunk guy in an alley kidnap me.

But over the years, I realized something…

Pain isn’t Satan’s primary goal.

Separation is.

Pain often leads to separation—from God, from others, and from the calling on our life—and that my friend, is the enemy’s primary objective.

The enemy hires trained mercenaries to attack each of us and I’m here to reveal their secret identities and expose their tactics:

Shame

The Lie: You’re not good enough.

Shame has been around since Day One. In the Garden, the enemy convinced Adam and Eve to disobey God by eating from the one tree that was forbidden. When they did, the serpent of shame slithered onto the scene.

Shame whispers, “ You’re too messed up to be loved”.

So, what did Adam and Eve do? They ran and hid in the bushes. Adam and Eve went from being friends with God to being afraid of him.

Shame separates us from God, causing us to underestimate our worth.

Stop hiding. Don’t believe the lie shame is peddling

God’s not mad.

You’re his kid and you’re worthy of love.

Fear

The Lie: God’s not good.

Fear comes in all shapes and forms. We fear other’s opinions. We fear failure. We fear the future. We fear God. Fear’s superpower is its ability to freeze people. When fear is operating in full force—you can’t move forward in all God has called you to do.

Fear whispers, “ God can’t be trusted”.

Israel had been tormented by the Midianites for seven years. Picture the scene from the Pixar movie “A Bug’s Life” when the grasshoppers swoop in and steal the harvest the ants had collected and you’ll get the idea.

The Israelites never fought back.

They hid—in caves, in dens, even in winepresses.

Yet God chose Gideon to save the Israelites. While Gideon was still hiding, he declared, “ The Lord is with you, you mighty man of courage”.

Shaking and afraid, Gideon was sure God had the wrong guy.

Fear causes us to underestimate our calling.

God is good.

He can be trusted.

Climb out from the winepress and step into your calling.

Judgment

The Lie: People aren’t good enough.

The Apostle Paul wasn’t always a saint. He spent the first half of his life persecuting the early church. He believed he was “on mission” to judge Christians.

It wasn’t until he was struck down by God himself and the scales fell of his eyes that he realized this important truth:

We aren’t called to JUDGE people. We’re called to LOVE people.

Pride kicks God off the throne. We determine what is right and wrong. And judgment causes us naturally to separate ourselves from others.

We know more.

They know less.

We are right.

They are wrong.

Pride shouts, “ People can’t be trusted ”.

And if people can’t be trusted, we better not plug into a local church, connect with family, or form meaningful relationships.

Judgement separates us from others, causing us to underestimate their value.

You need people.

You need a church family.

God is the head.

We are his body.

And may we fight together, hand-in-hand, laughing at the yippie Chihuahua chained to the fence, realizing he has no power over us.

A Prayer of Thanksgiving

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 22 Nov 2021 04:28:12 GMT

This Thanksgiving feels different.

I don’t know when the shift happened, but I’m not the same.

For most of my life, I offered token thanks from a place of abundance.

As a kid—if I failed to gobble up the nasty Hamburger Helper on my plate—my mom would lecture me on all the reasons why I should be thankful for Sloppy Joes.

There are starving people in Africa, after all.

It’s almost as if my blessings guilt-tripped me into thankfulness.

But these last two years have birthed a sincere thanks in my heart, a thanks which originates from a place of lack.

Like when my daughter lost her front tooth—it’s a lack that is glaringly obvious.

Loss has a way of making us aware of what we have been taking for granted all along.

My prayer for you this holiday season:

May you stop dreading family functions.

One day, the empty chair at the Thanksgiving table will remind you of their absence.

May you quit yelling at your rowdy children.

One day, the empty bedroom of your graduate will remind you that they’re gone.

May you stop complaining about your boss, your paycheck, or your work environment.

One day, the empty calendar will remind you that your days of productivity are over.

May you quit grumbling about the twenty-four ways your spouse drives you crazy.

One day, the empty spot next to you in bed will remind you of the void they’ve left.

May you stop working yourself to the bone for things you don’t need

One day, the empty nest will remind you of the memories you failed to make.

May you quit maxing out your calendar, running from one activity to the next.

One day, the emptiness of your soul will remind you to slow down and cherish the people in your life.

May God peel back the film of familiarity and give you eyes to see the blessings you have grown accustom to.

And may God teach your heart to sweep over every day like a magnet, collecting thousands of reasons to be thankful.

The Prize Inside

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 15 Nov 2021 03:29:46 GMT

M y kids are obsessed with surprise eggs. These overpriced trinkets promise to house a priceless treasure within. In reality, you find a ten-cent gum-ball machine prize wrapped in—I kid you not—900 layers of plastic.

Dashing out of Walmart as if it was on fire, my kids run to the car and frantically open them before we even make it home. Hoping to discover a precious gem, every time they’re disappointed! The toy is spotted several days later in the backseat along with the hardened Mc’Donald’s fry, crushed under the car mat.

We feel this way about life sometimes. We frantically anticipate a new season, a relationship, a school, a job—only to be let down. It turns out, the experience wasn’t all we had imagined it to be.

I encountered this phenomena as a new mom. I still remember the long, silent car ride home from Margaret William’s Developmental Center. Like storm clouds looming up ahead, I saw the diagnosis coming. I hoped by some act of God, we could escape the downpour. To no avail, my three-year-old son was diagnosed with severe autism.

The worst part? My husband and I had driven this same highway once before. We had endured the same swell of emotions and the same silent car ride home. We had witness the same storm clouds hanging over our life four years earlier when my daughter was diagnosed with severe autism.

My introduction to motherhood had been the worst eight years of my life.

It’s hard to write this down for the world to read. Yet like my kids disenchantment after unwrapping their “treasures”, I felt as if I had been ripped off.

For a season of time, I was angry at God. I knew God had not caused my little ones to struggle with a neurological disorder, yet I could not understand why He hadn’t prevent it. I believed that children were a blessing from the Lord—but at the time—my life felt more like a curse.

Yet God is less concerned with our lives being neatly packaged product and more concerned with the prize inside.

God allowed the pain in my life to humble me. And that ’s when His strength became apparent—when I got out of the way. The death of my dreams, somehow quickened His life within me. I stopped boasting about my success and began sharing my failures. And when I did, something amazing happened: people began to witness God shining through my broken, messed up, stressed-to-the-max, dysfunctional life.

2 Corinthians 4 states, “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this GREAT TREASURE. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”

Did you catch that? God was the original mystery egg creator! The prize inside our fragile, ordinary lives is His power, His glory, His love. The Bible says, the Holy Spirit dwells in us. This great treasure is not kept under lock and key in a museum or a bank vault. Instead, the God of the universe, parks his car and hangs his hat in my heart!?

And how is this prize revealed to the world? It is through the unadorned clay pot of my ordinary life. Clay pots and jars were common and used daily in Biblic al times. The Greek word for clay is ostrakinos , which meant pottery shards. The fragile, brittle nature of clay utensils caused them to break easily. Oftentimes, a potter’s floor was covered in shards of clay. But rather than sweeping them aside and throwing them in the trash, the potter carefully collected the broken pieces one-by-one. He crushed them and mixed them with water, and was able to reuse these shards again and again.

You're never too broken to be used by God.

The Christi an life is a paradox. The “ treasure ” of God’s glory within us becomes increasingly brighter, as our external life remains an ordinary clay pot.

And it’s the broken areas of our lives that display his glorious light the brightest.

The Need You Were Created For

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 01 Nov 2021 01:30:53 GMT

My eight-year-old adopted son popped his sopping wet hand out the shower curtain, straining as if trying to grasp something.

“Isaac, what do you need?”

“I’ll never stop reaching for her!” he proclaimed dramatically.

“ Reaching for who?” I questioned, annoyed he was taking so long to wash up.

“My real mom."

With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I grabbed his wrinkly brown fingers and squeezed them tight. I stuck my head in the shower and whispered, “I know, Buddy.”

No matter how hard I try—there will be a gap.

No matter how much I love—there will be a void.

No matter how great of a mom I am—I will never live up to the woman he has never met.

As I walked out of the bathroom, the waterworks flowed unhindered. My tears were a mixture of sadness and joy all swirled into one. I ached to fill the mom-shaped hole in my son’s heart, a need only Jesus can truly satisfy. Yet I swelled with gratitude at this one thought:

I get to do this.

I have been invited to work alongside the God of the universe and love these kids to life.

Adoption and foster care isn’t a have to —it’s a get to .

Paul instructs the Corinthian church in regards to this great truth. “ We are co-workers in God’s service” (1 Corinthians 1:9 NIV). It’s a privilege to labor alongside God to fill in the gaps of this broken world. And many times, these needs are wrapped up within the body of a tiny human being.

Mother Teresa once said, “Do you want to do something beautiful for God? There is a person who needs you. This is your chance.”

November 20, 2021 marks National Adoption Day. Currently, there are half a million children in foster care and over 125,000 of these kids are freed to be adopted and in desperate need of a forever family. This is a gigantic need—a need God invites each of us to play a role in filling.

Here are three ways you can do your part:

Consider fostering or adopting

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world” (James 1:27).

I like to joke and say, “Adoption isn’t for everyone. If you’re too busy taking care of widows, you’re off the hook. ” Although I’m being a tad facetious, God’s Word is clear about the role the church is to play in taking care of the least of these.

In the days of the early church—one of the distinguishing factors which set Christians apart from the world—wasn’t their Jesus fish bumper stickers. They had a reputation for taking care of widows, orphans, lepers, and the sick. Those who society shunned or had forgotten, found a home with fellow believers.

If you’re interested in pursuing foster care or adoption, contact your county’s Department of Social Service. They will explain the state guidelines required to become certified foster parent: a ten-week training, a home study, and unfortunately, mounds of paper work. But when the judge slams the gavel—declaring your adoption final—it will all be worth it.

Yet, sometimes the season we find ourselves in does not allow us to adopt or foster. How else can you help?

Support foster families

One of the greatest gifts you can give a family who is fostering or adopting is financial assistance. Fostering puts an extra strain on families financially. Oftentimes, due to the demands of parenting, one of the parents has to stop working or scale back on their hours. Let alone the increase in practical needs. I went through more diapers and Lunchables™ than I believed was humanly possible.

Just this past week, an older man in our church asked to meet with us. My husband is a pastor, and we assumed the man was seeking counseling. To our surprise, he pulled out a bank envelope from his coat pocket and handed us five hundred dollars. He explained that during a time of prayer, God asked him to give this money to our family to assist in our Christmas shopping. A giant weight was lifted off my shoulders through this generous gift. God knew our secret need and sent someone to fill in the gaps.

Provide Respite Care

A couple in our church is fostering a sibling group of four little ones ranging from the ages of two-eight years old. They are my heroes. One of the roadblocks with fostering is families are not allowed to leave the county with their foster children. When holidays come around, many families cannot travel. In order for this to occur, the foster children must be cared for by another certified foster family and options are extremely limited.

Discovering this need, my friend’s neighbor contacted social services and completed the certification course with the sole intent of providing respite. Having a trusted friend provide respite in order for a foster family to take a vacation or go on a weekly date night is a huge blessing.

No matter what season of life you find yourself in, may the Holy Spirit lead you as you prayerfully consider the need you were created for .

3 Reasons to Give Church Another Try

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 25 Oct 2021 04:04:07 GMT

The word “church ” is an emotionally charged word.

For some, fond memories come flooding in of vacation Bible school sing-alongs, Chubby Bunny camp charades, and sacred moments of connecting with God.

For others, the word church feels like chunks of gravel scraping across an opened wound.

The church hurt you.

The church failed you.

The church said one thing but did another.

I hear you. I too, have been wronged by people in the church.

Despite the ups-and-downs, I can honestly say, I don’t know where I’d be without the church.

THE CHURCH SAVED ME

Jesus may have saved me from my SINS, but the church saved me from MYSELF.

I was a hot mess the first time I stepped foot into a church. Yet as I entered, I felt God’s love wrap around me. As I sang, I couldn’t stop crying. The streams of tears running down my face seemed to moisturize the dry cracks of my soul.

Even after my encounter with God, I would have spun off the road and into a ditch if it wasn’t for the friendships I formed. I found myself challenged by other’s faith. Friends encouraged me to press into God, to pray, to believe for more.

Sometimes you have to watch someone love something. It’s as if they are showing you the way. (Donald Miller)

You need someone to show you the way.

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another…” (Hebrews 10:24-25)

THE CHURCH CARRIED ME

Some seasons are just plain hard. One storm after another pummeled my little boat, while I continued to operate as Miss Independent. I scurried and scooped bucket after bucket of water out, until I collapsed from exhaustion.

That’s when I saw them—off in the distance—dozens of life boats coming my way. They had warm clothes, life jackets, crockpot meals, gift cards, and words of affirmation. They offered to babysit for free, clean my house, and sent checks in the mail—just because.

I no longer claim to be self-sufficient. I'm desperately dependent upon God and his people.

I need people and people need me.

You need someone to carry you.

“For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” (Romans 12:4-5)

THE CHURCH IS MY FAMILY

My friend in college spent her whole life in foster care. She was never adopted. She never had a fireplace to snuggle next to while her and her family opened Christmas presents. She never had a mom to call for advice when her boyfriend broke up with her. She never had a father to walk her down the aisle.

She would watch Hallmark movies and ache for more, but in a vague sense. Because she had never experienced the love of a family, she didn’t really know what she was missing

Jesus said the church is our family. He didn’t say the church was like a family or resembled a family . They ARE our family.

When my husband’s buddy pulls in the driveway to help with a work project, my kids run out and yell, “Uncle Mark! Uncle Mark”. He isn’t their biological uncle, but he is their uncle. When my daughter begs me to stay the night at Aunt Dorie’s, she isn’t her biological aunt, but she is her aunt. This is the beauty of the church.

I have ten spiritual mothers, three spiritual fathers, and more brothers and sisters than I can count. You weren’t meant to do this life alone. You don’t know what you’re missing.

You have a giant family out there somewhere, just waiting to welcome you home.

"Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household…” (Eph. 2:19)

Look Up

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 18 Oct 2021 02:04:06 GMT

Newly married, I sped home in my Pontiac Grand Am while rocking out to Alanis Morissette. Despite her depressing lyrics, I found myself in a chipper mood until I pulled into the driveway and noticed the look of terror on my husband’s face.

“ What in the world happened? ” Greg inquired.

Worried I had drove through a mud puddle and coated the car like a marshmallow in a chocolate fondue fountain, I spun around to observe the damage.

My shiny ride was still intact.

“Nothing! ” I insisted.

My husband followed the trail of feathers surrounding my car and popped open the hood. Jammed up inside my engine was the humble remains of a turkey. I was cooking Thanksgiving dinner and didn’t even know it.

In my defense, I’m not the most observant person.

I run into walls, sideswipe mailboxes, and perpetually lose everything I own—only to blame it on my kids.

When it comes to my spiritual life, the same rules apply.

When life is good, I tend to ignore God.

When life is hard, I tend to look in every direction but upward. My initial response is to talk my husband’s ear off for two weeks straight. The next logical step is to complain to my friends and the innocent checkout attendant at WalMart. When this fails to produce results, I head to the Google search bar.

Why is crying out to God our last resort?

“ I lift up my eyes to You, to You who sits enthroned in heaven.” (Psalm 123:1)

These lyrics are one of the fifteen songs the Jewish people sang while traveling to Jerusalem annually to worship. Some scholars believe this particular chorus was written after the Israelites were freed as slaves in Babylon.

Despite the loss and devastation they had faced, they Israelites LOOKED UP.

This song reminds us of the power of our eyes.

We can’t control what life sets before us , but we can control what we set our eyes on.

A friend once told me you can trap a bee in an open jar. They don’t have the ability to look up. That dang bee will run into the glass walls over and over again but never realize the solution was right above his head.

You and I aren’t much smarter than a bee sometimes.

I attended a six-year-old’s funeral this spring. He was the son of my college roommate. I was a blubbering mess but his dad, Robert, had a peace that defied logic. During the burial—each time I glanced at the tiny casket—my stomach churned and the tears flowed. His mom crouched on the ground sobbing, hugging the coffin, while his dad stared off into the distance.

Heading to the car, I offered my condolences. As I turned away, Robert grabbed my arm.

“ Do you know why we picked this cemetery? ” he asked.

“ We picked this spot because of this… ” he said as he lifted my chin upward. “ He’s not in that hole. He’s up in the sky, enjoying this view.”

Stretched out before us was a beautiful stream swirling around rocks and passing by maples trees. The robins swooped in and out of their branches as they sang their cheerful melody, completely unaware of the grieving below.

There is no hole too dark for God.

When the enemy’s hot breath whispers in your ear, “There’s no hope” —Step outside, take a walk, breathe in the cool air, and look up.

God’s still on the throne.

And the solution to every problem you face is right above your head.

3 Reasons Why You Don't Fit In

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 11 Oct 2021 02:55:09 GMT

Over the summer, my son Isaac begged us to mail him in a refrigerator box to his uncle’s in Ohio. It didn’t matter how many reasons I listed—his inability to breathe, the length of time it would take, or the USPS restrictions on mailing humans—he refused to listen.

He packed his shipping container with basic necessities: his Mario blanket, a sleeve of Oreos, 4 juice boxes, legos, and an empty water bottle with the five letters, P-O-T-T-Y scribbled on it with a black Sharpie.

For two weeks, I peered at Isaac through his cutout window, reading and playing in his new residence. Then came garbage day. As we broke down the box, he wailed like a baby.

As ridiculous as this sounds, many of us spend our lives living in a box.

The world encourages people to think outside of the box, but they shun people who live outside the box. We become masters at stooping to other's expectations, rather than pursuing God’s design.

The last time I hugged my grandma, she squeezed my hand and inquired if I was a teacher yet.

“ No, Grandma. I’m still focusing on my writing.”

She gave me the grimace of disapproval that only grandma’s can get away with. I hate disappointing her.

But we will always disappoint someone. We just need to make sure it’s the right someone.

I’ve spent far too many years disappointing God—and I refuse to do it anymore—no matter how foolish I look.

So, if you struggle with feeling like you don’t fit in, take heart.

Why?

YOU’VE BEEN SET APART

"Before you were formed in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart and called you…” - Jer 1:5

God has know you personally long before you reached the birth canal. He knew how tall you would be, how many awkward moles you would have, and what talents you would possess. But what is interesting about this verse is before we were born, God knew each of us , but he only called some of us.

Maybe the reason you have struggled to find your place in this world is because you have been set apart for a divine purpose?

YOUR UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE CULTIVATES COMPASSION

My oldest son Jeremiah has two siblings with severe autism. He has experienced thousands of meltdowns, been publicly humiliated dozens of times, and has been swept away from Easter egg hunts and birthday parties long before the events began. To say his life is different is an understatement.

I mourn for the losses he has suffered but I am also thankful for them. Why? He has a perspective that cultivates a heart of compassion. He sees the world through a different lens. When a teen is sitting at the lunch table alone, he is the first to pull up a chair. When a child with a disability shows up at the library, he is the first to befriend him. When he sees someone hurting, his own eyes well with tears.

Feeling like an outsider changes a person. And maybe God knew it was necessary for you to fulfill all he has called you to do.

YOU’RE CALLED TO LEAD

We foolishly spend most of our lives trying to fit in. There used to be a mural in the youth building I hung out in as a teen that read, “ Only dead fish swim with the current. Go against the flow.”

You can’t be a leader if you think like everyone else, if you look like everyone else, or if you live like everyone else. People can’t be something, until they can see something…different.

And maybe—just maybe—that different thing is YOU.

We're All a Little Autistic

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 04 Oct 2021 02:37:52 GMT

When my daughter Mara was a toddler, she loved to meander downstairs before sunrise sporting her bedhead and unicorn footie pajamas. I would startled awake the minute our bedroom door creaked open. Mara would slip under the covers, grab my arm and wrap it around her waist, nestle in close, and flood the room with giggles.

One morning, I was up early and in the shower when my husband discovered Mara settled in bed next to him with a pen in hand, scribbling all over his favorite Bible.

Greg wanted to lash out in anger, but his half-awake state delayed his rebuke.

Just as he reached for the pen, Mara looked up and uttered the phrase, “ Hi, Daddy.”

Usually, this would be a typical response for a three year old. But Mara was not a normal three year old. Our daughter was diagnosed six months prior with Classic Autism and was non-verbal. When those words casually rolled off her tongue, my husband’s eyes welled with tears as he stared in disbelief.

“ Say it again, Mara! Say it again!”

Heading to work later that day, he found himself overwhelmed with dueling emotions. He was ecstatic to hear his little girl’s voice but this precious moment in time had poked a hole in the dam walls that were built years prior.

You know the walls I’m talking about.

The ones we build around our hearts. No one can come in and nothing can come out.

Under the covers that morning, a pinhole was pricked, and a wave of emotions came rushing—emotions that could no longer be contained.

Weeping and crying out, Greg begged God to heal Mara. He mourned the loss of the daughter he envisioned. He spoke of the pain a father feels when he doesn’t even know his own child. He complained to God how Mara lived in her own world and rarely acknowledged our presence.

God interrupted Greg’s lament and spoke these words to his heart:

I hear your cry and I know your pain. I too am a Father and oftentimes, my children fail to acknowledge my presence.

Day-in-and-day-out, they repeat the same routine: Breakfast. Work. Dinner. Netflix. Bed.

They too live in their own little world—a world filled with trivial details and silly obsessions. A world entrenched in hobbies, football games, binge-watching sitcoms, and Instagram surfing. I try everything imaginable to get their attention. I send people into their lives to interrupt their routines. I answer big and small prayers in hopes they will know my heart. I even went to the extreme of sending my Son, as an attempt to convey my love for them. Everything they have is a gift from me. Yet they continued in their ruts and can only manage to mumble a few words of gratitude before theirThanksgiving meal.

I don’t NEED them, but I desperately WANT them.

They desperately NEED me, but don’t WANT me.

My greatest desire is for them to stop what they are doing and look into my eyes. I don’t have a list of rules for them to follow or a regimented agenda for their lives. I just want a relationship. I just want to do life with them.

And I’m not mad. I don’t care how many times they have scribbled all over my story and messed it up. What they don't realize is I can redeem past mistakes and edit whole chapters. I'm the original author of their lives and I'm crafting a beautiful tale—if they would only hand me the pen.

Until then, I will patiently wait for my child to look up from all the distractions of this world and utter the words that cause my heart to skip a beat…

“Hey, Daddy.”

4 Ways to Guarantee Your Kids Won't Follow God

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 27 Sep 2021 03:27:46 GMT

NEWS FLASH: There is no way to guarantee your kids will mature into loving adults.

If you have been a Christian for any amount of time, this proverb has been beaten into your skull:

“ Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” - Proverbs 22:6

Conclusion: If my kid doesn’t follow God in the future—I must have failed royally in the parenting department.

If you have ever felt this way—as a pastor, a leader, and a fellow Christin—I’m sorry.

It’s easier to paint with strokes of black and white rather than admit the broken, complex world we live in can’t be explained in a single sentence.

The Book of Proverbs offers general principles for day-to-day living but following them doesn’t guarantee success.

Why?

Because we live in a fallen world filled with millions of human beings with free will. You may have done everything right as a parent—attended VBS, watched Veggie Tales, bought the promise ring, gathered for family devotions—but your child still has the ability to reject God.

Unfortunately, I can’t present a list of things you can do to guarantee your kids will love God all their days.

So, I figured I would offer the opposite:

4 WAYS TO GUARANTEE YOUR KIDS WON’T FOLLOW GOD AS ADULTS

LECTURE WITHOUT LIVING IT

People can’t be something until they can see something.

It doesn’t matter how many Bible verses they memorize, how many church services they attend, or how many times you tell them not to do something. If you’re not living radically different than the rest of the world—they won’t either.

In 2 Corinthians 3:6, Paul states that the law kills, but the Spirit gives life. The

Ten Commandments are the Word of God but the problem lies when we try to enforce truth from the outside in, rather than allowing the Holy Spirit to do the work from the inside out.

The greatest hope for our kids isn’t found in pushing a list of rules—demanding obedience from the outside in—but in them witnessing our own personal transformation from the inside out.

SAY NO A LOT AND YES VERY LITTLE

As soon as a toddler can crawl, we become experts at the two-letter word, “ NO!”

We may have the best intentions at heart. We want to protect our kids from harm but this two-letter word often becomes a habit for us and a stumbling block for our kiddos.

As a parent, I have resolved to say yes way more than I say no.

Yes to the double decker ice-cream cone right before bed.

Yes to the treacherous mountain climbing adventure.

Yes to the missions trip to Africa.

No, you can’t spend the night at Eric’s house.

Hopefully, all my previous yes’s make the no easier to swallow.

PUT THE LOCAL CHURCH ON THE BACK BURNER

Church attendance has been on the decline for decades. Throw in the pandemic and we are now at an all time low.

Pew Research Center conducted a study in 2020 and discovered 43% of teens and 44% of parents attend church once a month. The stark difference lies in their belief about religion. Only 24% of teens stated religion was important versus the 43% of parents who felt religion was vital in their lives.

The more infrequent our church attendance is, the more we send the subliminal message to our kids that following God isn’t really that important.

SQUASH THEIR PASSION FOR GOD WITH PRACTICALITY

When I was a young adult, I had a friend who desperately wished to attend Bible college. I was ecstatic because I wanted a buddy to tag along with me on my venture. Unfortunately, this friend never stepped foot on campus—not because of finances, or a change of heart—but because her parents talked her into something more practical.

Today, my friend is a doctor who is disillusioned with the church and is no longer following God. But at least she makes a lot of money! (Sarcasm added.)

When we make fear-based decisions for our kids, we fail to teach them how to walk by faith.

MY PRAYER FOR YOU: May God give you the wisdom to be the best parent you can be, grace to love your kids when they fall, and faith to trust an unknown future to a known God.

The Yes That Changes Everything

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 18 Sep 2021 18:00:53 GMT

As a kid, I owned a two-story Barbie penthouse decked out with spacious bedrooms, pink accessories, and an in-ground swimming pool. I logged countless hours rearranging the miniature furniture, making the beds, and setting the kitchen table with tiny cups and saucers.

Ironically, as an adult, I wasted far too many years doing the same. I bought the big Victorian house lined with lilacs set in the safest part of town—doorways framed with cherry molding and antique crystal doorknobs.

I spent more money in the last ten years at TJ Maxx than I care to admit.

But something inside was never satisfied.

It didn’t matter how pretty my house was or how many accessories I added, a part of me longed for more.

It’s a more modern day consumerism can’t buy.

A more 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, and a yappy dog can’t fill.

I never could put my finger on this more until my first trip to Uganda.

We roamed red-dust covered roads—hugged orphans, handed out Dollar Store flip-flops, and watched street kids play soccer with nothing more than a wad of plastic bags formed into a ball. They were so happy—so free—barefoot with hand-me-down T-shirts two sizes too big.

They had nothing.

Yet, they had everything.

I had everything.

But, it felt like nothing.

When it was time to say goodbye, I blew up one last red balloon and sent it out the bus window to the children lined up along the street to see the white mzungus off.

In that moment, I heard Jesus whisper:

“If I called you to move across the world and love these kids, would you?”

As the bus rolled away, it felt as if my heart was the Stretch Armstrong doll being yanked in opposite directions. I fought back the tears—tears which only result from a heart divided. Part of me desperately wanted to do what God asked of me, but the other half clung to the comfortable life I had grown accustom to.

In that moment, I made a choice.

I’ll do whatever you want, Jesus.

Although I was willing, Jesus never asked me to move to Africa. It was less about the question and more about my response.

That day I said, yes to whatever God had for me.

It was as if Jesus had been waiting my whole life for this yes—a moment of complete surrender.

He’s waiting for you, too.

You see, you can’t follow Jesus if your faith isn’t going anywhere. And God won't move you without your p ermission.

Maybe the reason you're unable to figure out God’s will for your life is because you have never said yes with tears welling in your eyes and your heart tearing in two?

This kind of yes moves mountains.

Maybe it’s not as complicated as we want to make it?

Maybe God’s will is one yes away?

Your yes is the key that unlocks the door God is calling you to walk through.

My yes has changed everything, and I promise yours will too.

I Pray Your Kids Fail

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 13 Sep 2021 01:53:02 GMT

I’m a recovering perfectionist.

As a teen, no hair could be out of place.

No question could be marked wrong.

No fault could be found—except my eyebrows—or what was left of them.

(Anyone else still recovering from their 90’s over-plucked brows?)

It took years of pain and numerous humbling acts of God to bring me back down to earth.

Yet as a parent, I find myself projecting the same perfectionist tendencies on to my children.

It’s almost as if I’m secretly praying my kids don’t fail.

Yet without the sting of failure…

They’ll take credit for their success rather than believe God is working through them.

My husband claims his family suffers from the curse of being “too capable”. This curse may sound like a blessing, but in actuality, it is the very thing that has prevented him from relying on God for years.

If you’re busting with talent, ingenuity, and competence—why would you need God?

The same is true for our kids—if they don’t fall on their face from time-to-time—they will never cry out to God for help. And if they never call out to God, they may believe the fable that they can manage this life on their own.

“Pride lands you flat on your face; but humility prepares you for honor.” Proverbs 29:23

They’ll fall for the lie that their value is found in their success.

Grades don’t define you. Degrees don’t define you. Job titles don’t define you. A number on a scale does not define you. Your marital status does not define you. Your past does not define you. Your income does not define you. Your appearance does not define you. Your car does not define you. And thank heavens, your social media accounts don’t define you.

While most of us would agree with this list in theory, the world shouts at our children a different message:

Image is everything.

While at the playground today, I watch three 8-year-old girls flop on the ground instead of playing tag with their friends. I thought they were resting until I realized they were glued to a phone and overheard them oohing and awing with comments like this:

“ I love her hair. What color is that? I should dye mine. And her eyebrows—how does she do her makeup like that?”

We live in a culture that defines value in terms of likes and follows.How many years will our kids waste trying to measure up to impossible standards set by invisible beings in cyberspace?

In a world that measures value through externals, our kids will obsess about their outsides, while ignoring the deep work God wants to do on the inside.

They’ll never experience unconditional love and amazing grace.

News Flash: God didn’t give us the Ten Commandments for us to KEEP them—but to BREAK them.

Why?

In order for us to come to the revelation that we need him desperately.

I will screw up everything my hands touch without God’s help.

It’s God’s grace that we are able to morph into the person he has called us to be.

And the beautiful thing about God’s love, is it walks with us THROUGH our failures and changes us from the inside out.

Shouldn’t we hope for the same as parents? Shouldn’t we be on the edge of our seats, just waiting for the moment our kids fail?

I used to believe I was a good parent if I prayed for my kids to be successful.

But that kind of love is more about me and less about them .

Now, I realize a good parent focuses less on success and more on loving their kids THROUGH failures.

Because that kind of love is less about me and more about them .

My Kids and This Crazy World

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 30 Aug 2021 02:49:34 GMT

Does your stomach churn with anxiety when you think about the world our kids are growing up in?

In the last year, I can’t count the number of times I’m startled awake by this thought:

It’s real. This is not a bad nightmare. This is not a sci-fi movie where Will Smith is going to kill the aliens and save the day. This is the world we live in now.

The masks.

The virus.

The protests.

The polarization.

The unknown.

When I was a kid, the only thing I had to worry about was if all the giant chocolate chip cookies would be sold out by the time I got through the lunch line.

It doesn’t seem fair for this generation to face such hardships.

Yet when I find myself complaining, God reminds me of all the moms in the Bible who have gone before me. Moms who laid in bed at night—tossing-and-turning—worrying about their children.

Think about Moses’ mom. The Israelites were enslaved by the Egyptians, toiling from sunup to sundown manufacturing bricks. She discovers she is pregnant and prays for nine months it’s a girl. Why? Because Pharaoh has decreed all the first born males to be murdered. Yet what does his mom do? By faith, she swaddles him in a basket, kisses his forehead, and releases her son to float down a river.

How about the prodigal son’s mother? There is no mention of her in the Bible but I can’t fathom how many sleepless nights she endured. Her eldest son demanded his inheritance, hit the road, and squandered all his money on wild living. Yet what does his mom do? By faith, she packs his lunch box, kisses his forehead, and releases her son into the big, scary world.

And we dare not forget Mary, Jesus’ mother. She was honored to carry the Son of God in her womb, but how many worries did she bear in her heart? How often do you think Jesus reminded her he was called to suffer for mankind? How many death threats did she get wind of? Yet what does his mom do? By faith, Mary gathers up her closest friends for support, kisses his forehead, and releases her son to be crucified.

As parents, we want to protect our kids from harm. If we could bubble wrap them from head to toe, we would. Yet what if each trial intended for evil, actually strengthened our children to be all God has called them to be?

What if we are focused on all the wrong things? As moms, we can get so stuck on praying for our kid’s safety, while God is busy plotting and planning their destiny?

“Consider it pure joy…whenever you fall into trials…because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4)

James implores us to celebrate—not if—but when trials knock on our door. Why? It seems God is more concerned with our children’s MATURITY than he is with their SECURITY. And if this is the case, as moms we need to learn to be good at one vital skill:

LETTING GO.

We feel the tension the day our five year old hangs his Paw Patrol book-bag in his cubby. We sense the tearing of our heart strings as we unload the last box and settle our son into his college dorm. We cringe at the thought of the day we will give our daughter away at the altar.

It is an act of war to release our children into the world. Why do you think the Bible calls them arrows? The power of God breaks forth when we pull back on the bow and LET GO.

So, what should we do? By faith, we will fall on our knees, kiss their foreheads, and release our children into the big, scary world believing in our hearts they were born for such a time as this.

He's Got Me

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 23 Aug 2021 03:46:03 GMT

On a recent flight to Nashville, my not-so-smart husband booked our seats across the aisle from each other. After we boarded the plane, I stretched my hand towards him and pouted my lip, until the stewardess bumped us with her drink cart.

Coming through!

So much for a romantic getaway without children.

Beside me sat a middle-aged woman named Kim. After talking for a few minutes, I popped in my AirPods and cranked Imagine Dragons. As I began to doze off, I glanced over to see Kim clenching the “oh crap” bar attached to the seat in front of her while performing Lamaze breathing techniques in order to remain calm.

I caught a glimpse of her stomach.

She doesn’t look pregnant.

So, I did what any good pastor would do—I pretended to be asleep—while squinting slightly in order to see her out of the corner of my eye. (Don’t judge me!)

It was one of those awkward moments where you aren’t sure if you need to give someone privacy or if you need to help them. Like when you’re in a public restroom and you hear someone struggling in the next stall. Part of you wants to make sure they are ok, and the other part of you wants to run.

Her sighs and deep breathing grew louder. Meanwhile, the plane hadn’t even left the ground yet!

“I haven’t done this in awhile. Last time I flew, I had my family for moral support. I guess you guys have to be my family today, ” Kim explained.

I opened my eyes and smiled, trying not to laugh.

“Sure, Kim. I’ll be your mom.”

Then I leaned over to the stranger sitting on the other side of Kim and asked, “Is that OK with you, Pa?”

Like any good labor and delivery coach, I rubbed her back during take off and calmed her fears with my cheesy jokes. When we were finally in the air, Kim glanced over and asked, “ How do you stay so calm?”

I nonchalantly replied, “ He’s got me” as I pointed upward.

Kim shook her head and then spent the rest of the flight hitting on “ Pa ” in the next seat over.

My answer to her was elementary. Yet at the same time, it was my gut reaction and I knew it originated from deep within.

How is it that two people the same age, in the same situation, on the same plane can have two polar opposite reactions?

The simplest answer: I knew God had me and she did not.

Listen to me, no matter how crazy our world gets, remember: He’s got you

Your external circumstances don’t have to determine your internal turmoil.

And your sense of security isn’t based upon your SAFETY level but your TRUST level.

“The peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4:6-7)

The word for peace in the Greek is best translated as a blissful rest, like when a baby is fast asleep in their parent’s arms without a care in the world.

As a mom of a newborn, there is an unspoken rule: Never Set a Baby Down. EVER!!!

If you do, they instantly start crying. It doesn’t matter how gently you lay them in their crib, how quietly you tiptoe to their bassinet, or how many times you sing Hush Little Baby —the instant you set a baby down THEY WILL SCREAM.

It’s maddening. (And we wonder why new moms never shower or sleep.)

Yet the second you pick the baby up, they immediately stop crying.

Why?

Because they know you got them.

And when you know God’s got you —you can sleep through a storm, you can praise God in a prison, you can rest in a lion’s den, and you can smile during a global pandemic.

Because peace is not found outside of Jesus.

Peace is a person—so, let Him hold you.

The Good God Intends When We are Shut In

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 16 Aug 2021 02:42:28 GMT

For eight years, I was virtually a shut-in. Raising two young children with severe autism made leaving the house nearly impossible.

Scrolling through Facebook, I watched my friends hop on planes and return with Mickey Mouse ears, turn into lobsters after boating on the St. Lawrence, and stuff their faces with s’mores on weekend camping trips.

Meanwhile, I sat alone.

Ironically, the state of my life for the last eight years is the state of the world today.

Isolated.

Alone.

Working Remotely.

We are all experiencing a Hidden Season .

And just when we think the restrictions are letting up and life is returning to normal, another spike occurs and we find ourselves shut-in again.

I am no epidemiologist but I am an expert at one thing: seeing the value of hidden years.

Hidden Things Grow

Jesus spent 30 years of his life in obscurity—living in his parent’s basement—and 3 years ministering. Those numbers seem a tad disproportionate to me.Why would God’s Son spend three decades crafting dining-room tables in Joseph’s wood shop?

Isolated.

Alone.

Working remotely.

Wouldn’t he have been more productive investing his time preaching, teaching, and healing the sick?

But the truth is, Jesus wasn’t striving to be PRODUCTIVE but OBEDIENT.

Jesus came to the world to model for use a better way to live. He only did what he saw his Father do. He only said what he heard his Father say. So, when his Dad told him to stay home, work hard, and obey his parents—he did.

And so should you.

Why? Because we all need to grow.

Luke 2:52 states, " And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.”

If Jesus needed to grow, so do we.

Hidden Things Are Formed.

Some of the most beautiful things in the world are formed in obscurity. Consider the development of a child in the womb.

Isolated.

Alone.

While God is working overtime to create something so miraculous it brings tears to our eyes when it finally arrives.

You are not FORGOTTEN, you are in FORMATION.

And just as an employer needs to process a worker before releasing him into the work force, our formation is necessary for our usefulness.

Hidden Things Go Deep.

Roots grow best in darkness, below the surface, under the radar.

A tree is never concerned with the height or width of its reach, but with the depth of its roots. The deeper the tree is rooted, the greater its reach will be. The same is true for you. Yet we can’t go deeper in God if we’re too busy impressing others.

For the past 18 months, God has halted our crazy game of comparison and called a timeout. We find ourselves sitting on the bench of life. The bench may be humbling, but it’s also eye-opening.

May we stop looking left and right and started looking up and in .

The truth is, we don’t need to grow taller, or wider, but deeper in Him.

Hidden Seasons Remind Us of the Value of Relationships

The biggest tree on the planet is a sequoia redwood that measures 275 feet tall and is 25 feet in diameter! You would think a tree that gigantic would need a massive root system. Yet this is not the case, their roots only travel 6-12 feet underground.

What holds up these giants?

The redwoods have an intricate network of intertwined roots with other nearby trees. These trees grow close together and are dependent upon each other for support and nutrients.

Even giants aren't meant to stand on their own.

Stop trying to do it all yourself.

My prayer for us all: May we gather up our troops, lock arms, and weather this storm together .

Growing Pains

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 09 Aug 2021 03:18:29 GMT

“ Five foot, six inches,” The nurse stated, scribbling it down on her chart.

“I’m five-seven. I have been five-seven since I was sixteen years old! Want to see my driver’s license? ” I demanded while rummaging through my purse.

Refusing my documentation, the nurse obliged to measure me one more time.

“Five foot, six inches on the dot. Sometimes people shrink, my dear.”

I rolled my eyes, writing the poor lady off as incompetent.

Even though I’m still in denial, the human body reaches its maximum height when we hit 20 years old. Our skeletal systems are fully formed and most of our bones have finished growing by the time we can legally drink our first margarita.

Inevitably,we stop growing and start shrinking.

Our mind, on the other hand, continues to mature. Scientists have concluded our brains reach full maturity around the age of twenty-five. I once heard a graduation speech where the principal informed the seniors it was acceptable for them to make impulsive decisions because the prefrontal cortex of their brain was not fully developed yet.

(News Flash: Teenagers don’t need our permission to do stupid things.)

All the parents—including myself—wanted to boo her off the stage.

Eventually our physical bodies cease to grow (height-wise, width-wise may be a different story) and our minds stop maturing, but what about our spirits?

If the Holy Spirit lives within us—we have unlimited potential.

Yet when was the last time your spirit has been stretched? When was the last time you tossed and turned at night with spiritual growing pains? When was the last time you ran into someone you hadn’t seen in awhile and they stop you mid-sentence to say, “ Wow! I don’t even recognize you. Your faith has grown so much!”

In 2 Timothy 1:6, Paul encourages his protege Timothy from a Roman prison cell to “ fan into flame the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of hands.”

Paul saw Timothy’s potential.

Timothy saw his limits.

Yet Paul knew a secret—you can’t keep running hard after God without a fan. The flickering embers of your “first love ” will die out unless you continually fan them into flames.

When my family has a camp fire we don’t just blow on the fire to get it going. We are “ Go Big or Go Home” kind of people. My husband pulls out the leaf blower and pummels that thing with O2 whenever the fire starts to die down.

What about you?

There used to be something in you that burned for God.

A gift inside of you that is dying to be released into the world.

A melody trapped within you that only you can sing.

But slowly burning is not enough. You must grab the leaf blower and go to town.

Why?

Because making a decision to accept Jesus occurs on an exact day, in a definitive location, at a specific moment in time, and is purely a conscious choice.

But falling away from Jesus is quite the opposite—it occurs gradually, over time, at a snails-pace, and is largely an unconscious choice.

Without intentionally tracking our spiritual growth—we drift. Just as you could never stay in one place while floating in the middle of the ocean, there is no status quo in Christianity. If we aren’t actively rowing our hearts out, we drift further and further from the human envisioned when God gathered a lump of clay with you on his mind.

Growing pains suck.

Sometimes they hurt.

Sometimes you look awkward and gangly when you walk.

Sometimes people laugh at your baby steps of faith.

But as you grow, it’s almost as if God reaches down from heaven and cranks the volume knob on your life exclaiming, “ Turn her up. I love this song.”

Aldi's Christianity

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 02 Aug 2021 00:55:06 GMT

When it comes to grocery shopping, I’m all about saving money.

We love Aldi’s. (Can’t you tell?)

I don’t mind scrounging the crevices of my car in search of a quarter or bagging my own groceries.

Why? Because when I scan the receipt, I see all the money I saved.

But there is one thing about Aldi’s you have to anticipate—you must be willing to buy generic brands.

I don’t need my peanut butter to be labeled JIF or my crackers to be Ritz. As long as they taste good, I will eat an entire sleeve of Oreo’s whether they are the originals or the knock-off brand.

But I’m afraid as Christians, we have settled for generic Christianity.

We go to Aldi’s because the prices are cheap, but we wander into the aisles of generic Christianity when we believe the cost of discipleship is too high.

When Jesus walked the earth, he was radical.

Every message He preached required his followers to pay a high price.

He proclaimed: “ Whoever desires to find their lives, must lose their lives.”

He implored us to “pick up our cross and follow him.”

He often required his disciples to give up their jobs, their possessions, their loved ones—and on one occasion—he demanded this smack-dab in the middle a funeral.

No, Jesus wasn’t peddling generic Christianity but this seems to be what most of us are buying.

Generic Christianity is choosing to be nice and polite rather than obeying God. Don’t get me wrong, Jesus desires us to exhibit the fruits of the Spirit such as love, peace, patient, and kindness.

But the problem arises when we substitute good manners in place of obedience.

God doesn’t expect us to be a glorified version of Mr. Rogers.

Jesus led by example. He only did what he saw his Father doing. He only said what he heard his Father speaking.

This obedience resulted in immense pain and suffering. This obedience led Jesus to the cross.

Who wants to sign up?

Maybe you struggle to hear God’s voice. Maybe you’re not sure what God is requiring of you. We don’t need to look far to know some of the things Jesus asks of us, they are laid out in the Word:

1. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations.”

2. “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress.”

3. “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.”

Just looking at this short list, take a minute and evaluate your life.

How many people are you discipling? Not being friendly to. Not having coffee with. Not chatting about the weather on the phone. Anyone?

How many orphans or widows are you caring for? Generic Christianity gives to the food banks or donates clothes to the Salvation Army.

Yet this is the knock-off version of what God commanded. He said, “ care for ”—day in and day out—attending to the needs of people who are in distress and have NO ONE ELSE.

Think of the one person you despise right now? Maybe they hurt you or someone you love to such a degree that you feel you can never forgive them.

How have you been loving them this week? What have you done practically for their good?

I have a feeling we all come up short on this one!

Jesus doesn’t want our quarters or our punched time cards, indicating all the Sundays we attended church.

Jesus desires our lives—and it will cost us everything.

But at the end of the day, there is no cause I’d rather spend mine on.

The Gifts You Never Open

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 26 Jul 2021 01:42:45 GMT

The best gifts are just because gifts.

I have a friend who is the queen of just because gifts.

I receive a gift when I accompany her to the doctor, when we grab coffee, and on days when my kids are driving me crazy.

Just because gifts remind us that we are SEEN and LOVED.

God is the King of just because gifts.

My first present arrived December of 1995. I was a bratty junior higher with boys on the brain. I did NOT deserve this gift.

But we never deserve just because gifts.

I was counting down the days until my school trip to Boston. The only problem was, a deposit of $300 was due—$300 that my parents did not have.

I pitched a fit and threatened to run away. I only made it to the end of my driveway. As I plopped myself on the curb with my JanSport book bag in tow, my older sister sat beside me. As a means to cheer me up, she offered to treat me to bingo.

Now, I am a master at bingo and it requires three things:

More cards than you can humanly scan.
A lucky charm (such as a troll with rainbow hair).
Chanting the number you’re waiting on until your winning number is called.

I followed my strategy to a tee, yet I never yelled bingo.

The tears began to flow as the final game was underway. This was my last chance to win and I was desperate.

So, I did something you should probably never do. I asked God to let me win. I wasn’t sure if Jesus liked gambling—but I was pretty sure he liked me.

The final game required you to cover your entire bingo card. I was waiting on one number…N 43. Suddenly, a muffled old man’s voice boomed from the speaker, “N 43.”

I shot out of my seat and ran to the front. I had won the last game of the night.

And the prize?

$300—the exact amount I needed for my school trip.

Maybe you think this was just a coincidence. Maybe you’ll unsubscribe from this email because I’m promoting gambling and even worse, I prayed to win.

Or maybe, you can look past the foolishness of a twelve-year-old girl and see a God who cares about ever little need we have.

Jesus reminds us in Matthew 7:7-11

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened…

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father give good things to those who ask him.”

God has been a father for a really, really long time. He’s pretty good at it. He cares about the smallest worry we obsess over and the biggest heartache we face. The problem is, most of us don’t ask him for help.

A month ago, I dreamt a package came in the mail with no return address. When I opened it, I found a gold key strung on a necklace and I knew it was from God.

While in Nashville this week, I met with a publicist about my upcoming book. The trip was surreal and Jesus’ fingerprints were all over it.

And just when I thought, God you can’t top this! I walked into a gift shop near our Airbnb and stumbled upon an entire display of gold keys strung on necklaces.

I immediately knew this was a just because gift from my Dad.

I walked toward the display and scooped the first key I saw into my hand. Etched in gold was one simple word: CREATE .

God knows you. He anticipates your needs before you even ask. But he waits on you.

How many just because gifts are stored in heaven unopened—intricately wrapped with ribbons and bows—with your name on the tag?

How many requests is God sitting on the edge of his throne, waiting to grant, but you have never dared to ask?

You don’t have to earn it.

He wants to bless you… just because.

Tie Up Your Apron Strings

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 19 Jul 2021 04:37:07 GMT

Perspective #1:

MUST. HAVE. CAFFEINE. , I mumble to myself as I swing open the glass door and stumble into my favorite coffeeshop, only to be greeted by a massive line.

Seriously! Why do so many people need coffee at the exact moment I’m craving a cup?I feel like a number here—a face in the crowd. Why can’t these people settle for the stale, day-old coffee at the gas station down the street?

Maybe I should find a new coffeeshop? I deserve a business that provides one-on-one attention and doesn’t have ridiculously long lines.

My thoughts are interrupted by a burst of laughter coming from the front as a customer chats with the owner as if they are long-lost best friends.

The owner never talks to me that way, and I’m a regular. Just place your order and move along people!

Annoyed at life—I spot it—one lone chocolate chip cookie in the display case. Immediately, my mouth begins to water.

Who am I kidding? That cookie will be snatched up before it’s my turn to order. They are always short staffed here and their supply of baked goods is continually running low. I really don’t like how they run this establishment. I would do things differently. Not to mention, they are probably violating ten health code regulations at the moment.

At my wits ends, I let out an exaggerated sigh in hopes those around will notice my distress and head for the door.

I deserve better than this!

Perspective #2:

MUST. HAVE. CAFFEINE. , I mumble to myself as I swing open the glass door and stumble into my favorite coffeeshop, only to be greeted by a massive line.

Yes, business is booming! This is what I like to see, all these smiling faces sipping on lattes and enjoying life.

My thoughts are interrupted by a burst of laughter coming from the front as a customer chats with the owner as if they are long-lost best friends.

This is the kind of boss I want to work for. He always takes the time to make each person feel noticed and loved.

I budge past the line, whispering, “Excuse me” until I reach the cash register. I grab an apron and tie it around my waist.

I tap the owner on the shoulder and ask, “ Do you need a hand? It’s crazy busy today. I see you’re low on cookies. I’ll take a few order and then throw another batch in the oven.”

The owner flashes me a smile, followed by a fist bump. He knows I have his back. Nothing excites me more than serving alongside him. And talk about benefits, I never have to worry if someone will steal the last cookie, because being tight with the Boss means everything he owns is at my disposal. And honestly, I can’t begin to explain how fulfilling it is to play a small role in something bigger than myself.

Now, imagine instead of a coffeeshop that this is your church…

Jesus didn’t suffer and die for us to waste our time complaining, church-hopping, and church-shopping.

He calls us co-laborers, heirs, friends.

And as we slip behind the counter, and tie up our apron strings, someone in the crowd shouts, "Hey, I know you. You look just like your Father."

When You Can't Hit The Pause Button

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 11 Jul 2021 04:54:00 GMT

Time.

Like sand, it slips through our fingers.

We sense its speed when we are startled by of our own reflection in a storefront window.

Who the heck is that old lady?

We can’t deny it’s power when we notice the ever-widening gap between our teenage son’s socks and his pant leg.

We mourn the loss of time when the baby we rocked parades across the graduation stage.

Yet no matter how hard we try, we can’t hit the pause button.Time keeps chugging forward, seeming to gain momentum as we grow older.

In a futile effort to fight back, we set aside time.Like a kid at the beach—we dig feverishly in the sand—only to have the demands of life come flooding right back in.

You see, we can’t make time.

Time isn’t something we can find either.

Time can’t be bought or manufactured.

There are only two things we can do with our time: WASTE IT or REDEEM IT.

My kids are obsessed with the arcade and they jump up and down when they hit the jackpot and a hundred tickets stream out the slot. To me, these tickets are flimsy pieces of paper that I throw in the garbage.They have no value in and of themselves unless you present them to the attendant at the counter.

The same is true of our time. Our time is worthless unless it’s presented to the One with the authority to redeem it.

Paul warned the believers in Ephesus: “ Walk carefully, not as fools but as wise, REDEEMING the time, because the days are evil.” (Eph 5:15-16)

So, how do we REDEEM our time?

MAKE IT COUNT - Offer each day to God. Every morning pray: I give this day to you. Your will be done, not mine.

ASK GOD WHAT HE WANTS YOU TO DO - Sit with a notebook and ask God one question: What is one thing you want me to do today? Not ten things, not a five-year plan, not a bible verse or word for the year. JUST ONE THING. It doesn’t usually sound grand. It oftentimes feels random. On many occasions, I fear I made it up. But when I step out in faith and do whatever it is—God shows up in a powerful way.

FIND THE LOOSE HOURS - Scurry and find the loose hours—like stray tickets— laying around and cash them in. What if you gave up the hour you spent scrolling through Facebook and spent it in prayer? What if you started a weekly small group for women? What stray hours can you redeem?

In Psalm 90, Moses prayed: “ Teach us to NUMBER our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

I used to think this verse was imploring us to count our days. My math equation looked like this:

365 days a year x 80 years (the average life span) = 27,375

Yet as I studied more, I realized it doesn’t say we are to COUNT our days but to NUMBER them.

My husband and I helped my parents move out of state several years ago. My mom was extremely organized. Every box was not just COUNTED but NUMBERED 1-60. The most important boxes—the ones that really mattered—were written on a pad of paper and packed last.

God isn’t up in Heaven with a giant jar of marbles and each day we rise—kerplunk!

God doesn’t COUNT our days—he NUMBERS them. The first day you offer to him and try to do his will, he leans over his nightstand and scribbles in his Book of Remembrance, Day One.

I See Dead People...They're Everywhere

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 11 Jul 2021 04:26:04 GMT

There are good people and there are bad people.

There are cops and there are robbers.

Robbers wear bandanas over their noses—according to my son Isaac—and this misconception presented problems during COVID.

As ridiculous as this sounds, kids aren’t the only ones who categorize people.

One summer, my husband and I had flown to Vegas to visit his brother. We were enjoying dinner with several of his friends when the conversation turned to the topic of kids. When one of the guests discovered we had adopted from foster care, things got weird.

“Oh wow! You’re one of those Mother Teresa-type people. You guys are good, good people. Me? Not so much.”

He then insisted we spend a day on Lake Mead at his family’s marina. He gifted us with a beautiful boating excursion, free of charge, all because we were good people.

We didn’t argue.

But our human minds tend to simplify the complexities of life into black and white:

Bad people should be punished.

Good people should be rewarded.

Bad people need to change.

Good people need to change the bad people.

Yet the good people in the Bible were often the religious Pharisees. They believed they were good because they followed all the rules. They looked down on all the bad people.

How did Jesus respond?

Jesus yelled at the good people—a lot. He called them really mean names. He flipped tables and told them off.

Jesus was bad to the good people.

And what about the bad people? How did Jesus treat them?

He noticed them.

He went to their house for dinner.

He called them friends.

He defended them.

He healed them.

He loved them to life.

Why?

Because Jesus didn’t come to earth to make bad people good, he came to make dead people live.

Good people don’t need a savior—they have one—themselves.

It’s hard to help someone who doesn’t think they need a hand and it’s difficult to provide answers to someone who has them all.

When Jesus scanned a crowd he never saw bad people or good people.

He saw dead people—everywhere—walking around like regular people.

We are all dead men walking without the breath of God quickening us to life.

I know. I experienced this phenomenon when I was fifteen. I witnessed firsthand a girl radically healed of dyslexia. This one thought replayed in my mind:

“It’s real. It’s all real. God’s real.”

It was as if Jesus hooked up jumper cables to my spirit and in an instant, I was alive. I ran up and down the streets of my neighborhood like a madman. I felt as if my heart would explode and spew liquid love all over the place. I would spot a stranger at the grocery store and have to fight the urge to hug them. I was dead and now I am alive.

John 10:10 says that Jesus came to the world to give us life, and life to the full. The Greek word for a full life means exceedingly, beyond what is expected, imagine, or hoped for.

It’s like when you go to McDonald’s and they ask if you want to supersize your meal. Jesus wants to supersize your life . It will be wilder, crazier, and better than you can ask or think.

Is this how you would describe your life?

If not, maybe you’re a dead man walking around like a regular person and Jesus is on the edge of his seat, just waiting for you to ask him to love you to life.

We're All a Little Lost and It's Alright

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 19 Jun 2021 02:49:32 GMT

I’m almost 40 and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

It’s humbling.

I should be paying off my mortgage, building my 401K, and designing the layout for my future retirement bungalow in Florida.

Instead, I find myself back at square one asking the same questions my guidance counselor asked when I was a teen sporting GAP hoodies and white Keds.

“What are you strengths? What do you enjoy?”

Twenty-two years later, I’m still trying to figure this out.

But if we’re brutally honest, we all feel a little lost sometimes.

America’s Got Talent featured a singer who goes by the name Nightbirde last week. She has been given a 2% chance of survival after a grim cancer diagnosis. Nightbirde received the golden buzzer for singing—what I believe—is the anthem of our hearts.

The chorus repeats this one line:

“It’s okay if you’re lost. We’re all a little lost and it’s alright.”

Everyone of us is a little lost—some of us are just better at hiding it than others.

What if feeling lost is actually a good thing?

Jesus shares three stories in the Bible of something that is lost and must be found:

The first tale is of an old woman who loses a silver coin and wildly Swiffer mops every inch of her house until she finds it.
The second account is of a shepherd tending his sheep, only to discover one is missing. He abandons the entire flock in search of the one.
The third is of a son who demands his inheritance from his father. He heads to Vegas and blows all of his money on hookers and slot machines. Broke and desperate, he finds himself so hungry that pig slop looks appetizing. So, he returns to ask for forgiveness. His dad rolls out the red carpet and throws a welcome home party in his honor.

In each story, the more valuable the lost item was to the owner, the more intense the search was to recover it, and the bigger the party was when it was found.

During the pandemic, I lost my thermometer. I didn’t even look for it. I was so sick of reporting those dang health screenings to the school everyday, I just started making up numbers.

“98.4 sounds about right.”

A few years back, the diamond to my engagement ring went missing. I swept the house from top to bottom, rummaged through every garbage can, and prayed to St. Anthony for a month (and I’m not even Catholic). I finally gave up only to find the diamond the very next day while giving my son a bath.

One summer, my Autistic daughter went missing. I dashed out of my house, leaving my other kids unattended, and frantically searched our neighborhood while screaming her name. I still have nightmares about it. We notified the police and in less than five minutes, six cop cars and twenty neighbors had join in the effort. When she was finally found—almost an hour later—I wanted to rent a giant bounce house, set off fireworks, and throw a massive welcome home party in my backyard.

God is a good dad.

You don’t have clean yourself up and get your life in order to find God—he finds you.

He is frantically calling your name.

He doesn’t think twice about leaving the rest of the family behind in search of you.

He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t think, until your are safe at home.

So maybe feeling lost is a good thing.

Maybe it means your Dad is out there in the darkness, hollering your name, shining his flashlight your way, waiting to welcome you home.

Maybe feeling LOST means you’re one step away from being FOUND.

How Self-Care has Sidelined a Generation

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 14 Jun 2021 02:45:17 GMT

Contrary to popular belief—bubble baths, manicures, and lattes aren’t going to solve our problems.

There is a reason the book, The Purpose Driven Life, has sold over 50 million copies.

We are starved for purpose.

But the world keeps spoon feeding us self-care propaganda. It tastes good for a hot second, but it lacks the nourishment our souls crave.

The truth is, we don’t need to be persuaded to put ourselves first. A study revealed that 78% of our conversations involve talking about ourselves (Dunbar, Marriott et al, 1997). Scientists have even discovered a default area of our brain that is active when we are at rest. This same region lights up on a scan when we think about ourselves (Meyer and Lieberman, 2018).

So in a sense, our brains are hardwired to think about one thing…OURSELVES.

While our minds may operate on autopilot, our hearts yearn for more than a life wrapped up in me, myself, and I.

In I Corinthians 9:24, Paul declares:

“Don’t you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.”

If life is a race, then self-care is an aid station. An aid station is a small tent located along the course of a marathon where runners can rest, hydrate, or grab a bite to eat.

Hear me when I say this: self-care is necessary. Without aid stations, a runner could not complete the race.

But today’s culture has made self-care the finish line rather than a pit stop.

But where did this lie come from?

I’m not sure if you realize this but it’s impossible for the enemy to create anything. God is the Great Creator. All the devil can do is take a truth God has created and twist it.

The twisted myth the enemy wants you to believe? That self-care is the end goal.

Imagine if I was running a marathon and around mile three I was coaxed by the crowd to beeline to the nearest aid station. After all, I had a small blister forming on my pinkie toe and I deserved an ice-cold lemonade. After a back massage and a cup of soup, I’m ready to get back in the race. Yet the crowd encourages me to grab a power bar and take a seat.

Most of us spend our lives hanging out at the aid station.

Nothing exciting happens at the aid station.

Self care is lame if it’s the finish line. H ow long are you going to hang out under a tent with the Gatorade and bandaids? How many years have you wasted convincing yourself you need another time out?

If Paul was on the sidelines of your life, he would be screaming, “RUN!!!”

Jesus preached the same counter-cultural message:

“If anyone desires to come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

(Mt. 16:24)

The race Jesus was running led him to a cross. Yet he continued sprinting toward the finish line despite the pain, suffering, and loss. The prize set before him propelled him forward.

What was the prize?

Us.

Jesus modeled for us a life that lives and dies for others—despite the cost. He proclaimed, “There is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friends.”

The goal isn’t self-care but self-denial.

The journey to the finish line will require you to lay down your life for others.

Will it be hard? Ridiculously hard.

Will it be painful? Excruciating at times.

Will you want to quit? Almost every day.

Will it be worth it? Absolutely!

Your purpose is found in the race.

So, stop at the aid station and take a breather—then lace up your sneakers, grab a caramel macchiato, and JUST KEEP RUNNING!

Why 1/2 Free Isn't Free at All

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 07 Jun 2021 04:39:47 GMT

“Psst! Excuse me Ma’am, do I need to wear a mask in your store?”

“Well, the CDC states you must be vaccinated to be exempt from the mask mandate.”

Internal sigh of relief as I whip my mask off and shove it in my purse. I proceed to stroll through TJ Maxx, sipping my coffee with the song, “Freedom” by George Michael playing on repeat in my head.

Yet something interrupts my freedom strut—or should I say—someone. I noticed everyone around me still has a mask on. With peer pressure operating in full force, I quickly yanked the elastic band hanging out my purse and strapped that baby back on.

Isn’t this what we do in life?

We finally come to a place where we start to believe what God says about us

We begin to feel comfortable in our own skin.

We emerge from the cave of insecurity we have been hibernating in.

We stretch our legs and take our first wobbly step of faith.

Then—as quickly as the fleeting rush of boldness appeared—our freedom balloon deflates the minute we catch a glimpse of an onlooker.

They’re judging me.

Who do I think I am?

We strap our “mask” back on and return home, reassuring ourselves with this one thought:

Well, I’m freer than I was last year.

But here is the thing about freedom: there is no such thing as 1/2 free . You’re either a freeman or you’re a slave. You’re either 100% free or you are trapped in bondage. We don’t like to hear that. But the Bible declares it.

“Who the Son (Jesus) sets free, is free INDEED.” (John 8:36)

That word “indeed” in the Greek actually means “in reality.”

The JHT (Jessica Hurlbut’s Translation) puts it this way: IF JESUS HAS SET YOU FREE, YOU’RE FREE—LIKE REALLY, REALLY, REALLY FREE.

Free from all the habits and hangups that have held you down in the past.

Free from other people’s opinions.

Free to not just share your thoughts but free to believe God wants to speak through you.

Free from fear—like really, really, really free.

Slavery was common in ancient times, and the Romans who ruled during Jesus’ life were no exception. Yet Roman slaves differed in one dramatic way:

Roman slaves were set free on a regular basis.

Normally, if you were born a slave, you died a slave—unless you were a Roman slave. Some owners freed their slaves outright, while others allowed them to buy their freedom. The slave would appear in court before a civil officer, would be emancipated, and then declared a Roman citizen.

The same is true for you:

Because of the price Jesus paid, God, the Great Judge, declares you free from your past, free from sin, and free to be all God has created you to be. At that moment—in an instant—you’re 100% free. You aren’t half free, or a little free, or freer than you were last year.

And as a citizen of heaven and an adopted child of the King, all the resources and rights of the royal family are at your disposal.

Stop looking to the right or the left. Stop comparing yourself to everyone around you. Pop the “Freedom” soundtrack into the tape deck of your mind, strap on your headphones, drown out the voices of the onlookers, and stroll through life belting, “Freedom!”

Because if Jesus sets you free—you’re really, really, really free.

3 Things to Do When It Feels Like God is Ignoring You

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 31 May 2021 03:20:02 GMT

Silence.

There is nothing I hate more.

When I ask my husband a question and his face is buried in his phone.

Silence.

When I holler to my kids upstairs, quite certain they are devouring an entire box of Hostess Cupcakes under their bed.

Silence.

When I pose the same request to God time and time again.

Silence.

I know I shouldn’t be mad at God, but honestly, sometimes I am. I equate silence with apathy.

Silence = the person on the receiving end could care less.

Yet the thing about God is he isn’t like us.

God doesn’t give the silent treatment. His ways are higher than ours—beyond human comprehension—meaning we must walk through seasons where God’s voice feels distant.

When my daughter was diagnosed with severe Autism I was rip-roaring mad at God. Four years later—when my son was ALSO diagnosed with severe Autism—I was livid. I remember during this season, yelling at God with hot tears streaming down my face, pounding on my steering wheel, and shouting one word, “WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHY!”

His reply?

Silence.

I don’t have all the answers but despite the pain, GOD HAS CHANGED ME. He wants to do the same for you. But there are a few things you must do:

1. DON’T BE AFRAID TO YELL AT GOD.

Growing up in the church, I believed subconsciously that anger was wrong. Anger at God…forbidden. But when I started reading the Bible, I realized people got angry at God. David started most of his songs pointing a finger at God and shouting accusations such as:

Why have you abandoned me?

Where are you God?

Don’t you care?

Did you know “being angry” is actually a command in the Bible? In Ephesians 4:26 Paul commands the church to BE angry BUT do not sin.

Anger isn’t a sin—it’s an emotion.

Ignoring you’re angry at God doesn’t take the emotion away, it only buries it. He wants to hear your heart—even your angry heart.

2. WORSHIP WHEN YOU DON'T FEEL IT.

Do you know there is a gift we can give God even the angels are envious of; an offering we can present exclusively on earth?

When we join Jesus in eternity, our opportunity to present this token will have passed.

It’s the gift of worshipping, despite our pain.

In heaven, there will be no sorrow. We will clearly see all of God’s ways. But while on earth, it’s as if we are sitting in a dark room staring into a mirror. We can’t see our reflection clearly, just a vague outline of who we are. The future is hazy and we don’t have the answers to all our why’s.

But what moves the heart God more than the saints casting their crowns before the throne of heaven, is a woman on earth who makes the conscious choice to worship—despite her pain. This act causes all of heaven to turn and stand in awe.

So crank up some good worship music (I suggest Elevation Worship on YouTube) and sing your guts out to God, even when you don’t feel it.

3. SURRENDER TO THE PROCESS.

For the past month, I have had no clue what my husband has been doing clearing our property. He rents big machines and dumps loads of dirt here and there. He grinds stumps, cuts down trees—and in my mind—makes a giant mess.

Yet, just because I don’t understand what he is doing, doesn’t mean he isn’t creating something beautiful. At the end of the summer—when the property is cleared and the grass is growing—I will be enjoying the haven He created for me. I stopped arguing with him and surrendered to the process.

The same is true for God. The process is messy. Bulldozers are running you over and there is dirt flying. Yet God is creating something beautiful from your pain, even when you can’t hear his voice over the heavy machinery.

The Number One Regret of People on Their Deathbeds

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 23 May 2021 02:53:28 GMT

Do you ever feel stuck?

I’m not talking about the time you thought it was a good idea to play on the kiddie slide. I’m referring to the debilitating fear you experience when you can’t move forward.

My thoughts go like this: I know you’re real, God. I have experienced too much in my life to go back to the way I used to live.

BUT…

It will COST me too much to move forward.

As a young adult, I read a book about a 19-year-old girl who was raised in a wealthy Christian home. She was the president of her class and the homecoming queen, yet her accomplishments aren’t what made her famous.

What caught my attention—and the attention of millions—was this good girl living the American dream did the unthinkable:

She quit her life.

She dropped out of college, broke up with her boyfriend, left her family, and moved to Uganda to live INDEFINITELY fostering fourteen Ugandan girls.

I remember wanting to meet her.

I remember wanting to be her.

To really do what Jesus said—to lay down my life and follow him.

And then I met Kayla Kesner.

Kayla is quiet and unassuming. Nothing about her demands attention, yet all of heaven knows her name. She grew up as part of our youth group and has worked for years with my daughter who has Autism.

But what makes Kayla remarkable isn’t so much what she has done for God but rather what she has given up for Him.

Kayla traveled to Uganda on several short-term missions trip and her life was forever changed. In a few months, Kayla will be moving there INDEFINITELY to love on and disciple fifteen Ugandan youth whom our church family has supported for the last decade.

You see, leadership isn’t a title or a cute plaque that goes on your office door. Leadership isn’t about knowing the right people or being in the right place at the right time.

Leadership is a CHOICE—a choice to pay a high cost.

And the moment you stop paying the cost, is the moment you stop leading.

There is a story in the Bible about a rich dude asking Jesus how to inherit eternal life. Jesus simple says: follow the Ten Commandments. The wealthy guy claims he has kept ALL of the commandments since he was a child. (Nobody believes you buddy!) So, Jesus gives him one more order:

“Sell all you have, give to the poor, and come follow me.”

And what does the rich young ruler do? HE WALKS AWAY SAD.

I think a lot of us feel sad and stuck in life because we are unwilling to pay the high cost.

And guess what? Jesus still loves you but he is willing to let you walk away sad. He is a gentleman. He will never force his will on you and as you depart, he will grieve for you.

What is the high cost God is calling you to pay?

God may not call you to move to Uganda, but he may call you to end the relationship you’re in.

God may not ask you to sell all your belongings, but he may ask you to downsize your life and start giving extravagantly.

God may not commission you to be a missionary, but he may instruct you to quit your job and follow him.

Do you know the number one regret of people on their deathbeds? Almost every person interviewed said:

“ I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

This is my prayer for you:

May you have the courage to live a life of RISK, not REGRET.

And may you holler to the Good Shepherd as he walks away, “Hey Jesus, wait up! ”

If you feel moved to give financially to support Kayla Kesner and her work in Uganda, simply click the link below and under the "Give" heading scroll down to “Missions: Kayla Kesner Support”.

Click Here to Support Kayla Kesner

How to Reclaim the Power of Your Voice

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Thu, 20 May 2021 15:02:27 GMT

This is a subtitle for your new post

A s a mom of boys, there is a smell I encounter almost daily: the aroma of urine. Last summer, I noticed this smell emanating from my son’s room.

A quick whiff of the sheets. Nope.

A quick scan of the room for wet undies. Nope.

I convinced myself all was well and carried on with my day.

Except the odor began to fill the house and by Day Three I was desperate to locate its whereabouts. I narrowed it down to the closet and then deducted my son’s pitstop was inside his giant lego bin.

BINGO!!!

My husband demanded we throw the entire bin away. I refused. The kids were always building creative works of art with them. Two hours later—after scrubbing each individual lego by-hand in the bathtub— they were squeaky clean.

Legos were created with the intent of building and God has given us a tool to build with too: our words.

Proverbs 18:21 states, “ DEATH and LIFE are in the power of the tongue.”

Every word you utter has power. Every syllable either builds up or tears down. Your words have eternal impact. The problem is, we believe the lie our voice doesn’t matter.

Growing up, I was the shy kid who hide behind her mother’s leg and never talked to strangers. I would have spent my life believing my voice had no power if it wasn’t for my encounter with Jesus as a teen. Suddenly, I realized the power of my words. Their might was not rooted in my wisdom or eloquence—rather their power was found in their origin . The God of the universe wanted to speak in and through me.

And that changes everything.

A week after the lego escapade, my kids and I headed to the beach. At one point, I realized my daughter had stolen a blue ball from an adorable brown-eyed boy. After a bit of a fight, I pried the toy out of her hand and threw it to the cutie onshore. There was something vaguely familiar about this boy. Suddenly, a scene from my days as a youth pastor flashed before my eyes:

Katie had approached me right after the service.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked sheepishly.

“ Of course!”

As tears coursed down her cheeks, she shared with me how her close friend was in a bad relationship and had just found out she was pregnant.

“ She is going to get an abortion tomorrow. Can you help?”

To be honest, I had no clue what to do. I shot up a quick prayer and headed over to the girl’s workplace. Pulling in, our headlights shined on a woman cleaning out her car who happened to be the girl’s mother. My heart skipped a beat and I busted open my car door with a string of words spilling out of my mouth.

"Hi! I'm a youth pastor. Your daughter is in a tough spot. She is pregnant and planning on heading tomorrow morning to an abortion clinic. She is afraid of disappointing you.”

The mother burst into tears and thanked me. As I climbed in my car and drove away, I caught a glimpse of the mom embracing her daughter in the rearview mirror.

That girl NEVER made it to the abortion clinic the next day.

Years later, I stumbled upon a picture of this girl’s beautiful brown-eyed boy on Facebook—the same boy who smiled and waved at me from the water’s edge as I handed him his blue ball.

Love Letter to the Invisible Woman on Mother's Day

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 09 May 2021 01:06:05 GMT

I see you.

I know how hard Mother’s Day is.

While others are celebrating—you are grieving.

To the woman who longs to have a child yet her arms are empty.

I see you.

Wandering through the aisles of Target fingering the cute onesies and princess dresses.

I see you.

Hesitantly inquiring how the kids are doing when you grab coffee with a friend.

I see you.

Sitting in the back at the baby shower, less talkative than usual.

I see you.

To the woman who lost her baby too soon.

I see you.

Dreaming of how your child would look at three, six, and eighteen.

I see you.

Wondering if she had your blue eyes and your husband’s goofy laugh.

I see you.

Visiting the memorial—continually feeling life is backward—you should have gone first.

I see you.

To the woman who has a special needs child.

I see you.

Wishing your little one had the words to convey their love.

I see you.

Exhausted, angry, alone, and misunderstood.

I see you.

Longing for a different life but then beating yourself up for feeling that way.

I see you.

To the woman who has to raise her children alone.

I see you.

Working full-time while juggling soccer practice, piano lessons, and sick kiddos.

I see you.

Dropping balls left and right because you can’t possibly be two people at once.

I see you.

Mother’s Day comes with little fanfare—no one to take the kids to buy you flowers.

I see you.

To the woman who lost her momma.

I see you.

Reminiscing of yesterdays—Christmas dinners, laughs, and her gentle touch.

I see you.

Missing your best friend and sensing the irreplaceable void she left behind.

I see you.

Regretting the time you didn’t spend or the words you didn’t say.

I see you.

Just as I sent the angel Gabriel to Mary—a young, childless woman who felt alone—I am sending my messenger to comfort you and proclaim:

YOU ARE HIGHLY FAVORED BY ME AND I AM WITH YOU. No matter how hard things are right now, I promise there will be brighter days.

Love,

Jesus

How I Learned to Stop Settling for Less

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 03 May 2021 00:38:07 GMT

For most of my life, I believed I didn’t deserve good things.

My rationale went like this:

I’m no good.

Therefore, I don’t deserve good things to happen to me.

As newlyweds, my husband and I resided in a tiny apartment and lived off Ramen noodles. Being a dropout with nothing to offer, I scanned the help-wanted ads and applied to any job available.

I landed two gigs:

I stuffed flyers in a newspaper.
I cleaned bathrooms at a youth center.

Eight hours a day, I robotically inserted Walmart flyers into our local paper.

The upside: I became a savvy coupon queen.

The downside: I hated it.

But when you don’t deserve good things, you do what I had become a professional at:

YOU SETTLE.

Exiting my car juggling ten rolls of toilet paper, I ran smack into an old friend. My face turned as red as her cashmere cardigan as I attempted to explain myself. Stumbling over my words, toilet paper slipped out of my arms and rolled right into traffic. She laughed as I chased my run-away TP. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. She proceeded to tell me about law school and teaching at a college. I nodded and smiled while thinking:

Good for you. I will never do anything like that. I have nothing to offer.

I would have continued to operate in this vicious cycle if God had not intervened. That fall, my husband and I were invited to receive prayer from a visiting pastor.

Have you ever had someone say something to you and it impacted you to such a degree that everything they say after that point fades into the background?

The minister looked us square in the eyes and said, “God is not a JUST-GETTTING-BY-GOD. God is a God of MORE-THAN-ENOUGH.”

This was my view of God. I knew God had infinite resources but I believed I wasn’t worthy of his extravagant love. I spent my days only asking for enough to get by.

Psalm 23:5 says, “ You prepare a table before me in the presences of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

Imagine God as the host of elaborate smorgasbord and your name is on the guest list. I’m not talking Olive Garden—I’m talking a ten-course meal with fine china and seven different forks designated for each entree.

Who is he celebrating? YOU.

Who is busing the table? JESUS.

Yet there is a commotion in the heavenly kitchen because you are no where to be found.

Why? You’re under the table—collecting crumbs.

Don’t settle for collecting crumbs when the God of the universe is inviting you to sit at his table.

God yearns to provide for us more graciously than our hearts can even desire—and not just material needs. It’s less about the stuff on the table to eat and more about getting your butt in the seat. I spent most of my adult life not owning a car. I still don’t have a job. Yet each day I find my heart overflowing with an abundance of:

Purpose.

Influence.

Grace.

Love.

Why? Because I finally stopped settling, got up off the floor, and sat in the place God had prepared for me.

I saved you a seat—you should do the same.

Why We Need to Die Twice

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 26 Apr 2021 01:13:41 GMT

Twice

I lived my own life—free to do what I wanted.
Never realizing by my poor choices I’d be haunted.
I plotted my decisions and never thought twice
in seeking God’s help or timely advice.

Then one morning I scraped rock bottom.
My solutions landed me alone and forgotten.
I screamed out to God in the black of the night,
promised to die to my sin and give him my life.

Time ticked onward and I was filled with great joy.
God was like Santa—supplying new toys.
I thought I had Christianity all figured out.
I was living for Jesus—without a doubt.

I sought God’s direction yet pursued my own dreams.
Some days were so thrilling, I could bust at the seams.
I prayed for guidance. I prayed for God’s will.
I prayed for finances, a house, a partner, and even more still.

Eventually, I got frustrated when God didn’t do His part.

I told him, “Jesus, what’s going on? I gave you my heart.

Why aren’t you answering me? Why aren’t you providing?
I thought you loved me and in that love I’m abiding?”

I waited for a reply from my Father above.
But his only response: “Do you even understand love?”
You claim you have died to yourself and now Christ lives in you
but don’t you realize the word “I” is still in everything you do?

You pray for my will but you do your own thing .
You say you’re committed but where is your ring?
Your days jam-packed with your l ife, your family, your job.
I want you to drop those things and seek first the Kingdom of God.

Your mind is consumed with your bills, your kids, and your pains

but the broken, lonely, and addicted are the reason I came.
You may have died to your old life of sin and been made new
but my mission on this earth isn't just about you.

I desire the beating in your chest to be in tune with my heart
and abandoning your old life is only the start.
Every follower of mine must turn and repent
but when Jesus spoke of “dying to self” this is not what he meant.

My son was the perfect example for all to see:
true love forfeits their dreams,their ambitions, and dies on a tree.

Just being kind and moral will never suffice
because the truth is every Christian is called to die twice.

Does God Play Favorites?

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 18 Apr 2021 15:39:47 GMT

The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air as my mom scrubbed the last baking sheet. Shaking the water off her hands, she motioned for me to come near. Standing at the sink, she knelt beside me and whispered in my ear: “I love all my kids, but you’re my favorite. ”

To this day, she denies this conversation occurred. I get it—she has the reputation of being a fair mother to uphold. But I know the truth, and the truth has set me free.

Now I have five of my own. On a daily basis, the question of who is the favorite emerges. I deny any allegations but the accusations keep rolling in.

Having favorites doesn't seem right. Yet sometimes it feels like God plays favorites too.

You know the people I’m talking about—the ones in the limelight. The ones whose lives look so easy. The ones who make everything look effortless. Doors open and opportunities arise.

But what about the rest of us? The invisible ones. The ones who hide behind closed doors. The ones working backstage. The exhausted ones. The ones who receive little praise and are often overlooked.

We fly under the radar.
We struggle with loneliness.
We wonder where our place is in the world.

I have been there—I’m still there.

Yet when you spend enough time in the darkness, a terrible lie starts to fester:

What I’m doing doesn’t matter.

The sacrifices I’m making to serve my family go unnoticed. The cost I pay day-in-and-day-out isn’t recorded. The love I extend to others isn’t reciprocated.

As the lie takes root—our view of the Father is twisted. We believe God is keeping a detailed record of our wrongs but failing to take note of our rights .

I found myself complaining to God, standing at my kitchen sink—with toddlers at my feet—and God interrupted my rant with three small words:

“I SEE YOU.”

Tears welled in my eyes as truth shot through my core.

He sees me. It doesn’t matter if anyone else does. It doesn’t matter if I measures up to the world’s standard of success.

HE SEES ME.

In Psalm 17:8 David prayed, “ Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me under the shadow of your wings.”

David penned this prayer while hiding in a field from Saul who was out to kill him. Even as a boy, David spent his days in the field tending the sheep—hidden. But the beauty about David's story is even in a place of obscurity— God found him. God sent the prophet Samuel in order to anoint the next king. His father paraded his young, strapping sons (minus David) before the prophet but Samuel wasn't impressed, The future king wasn't found in the limelight but alone in a barren field.

God saw David and he sees you.

The Hebrew phrase, “ apple of your eye” means “ little man of the eye ”—referring to the reflection we see of ourselves when we stare into another’s pupils. To be the apple of God’s eye means we are being watched with great intensity. Our very image is dancing in the eyes of our Father .

It’s as if God gazes at you and motions for you to come near. He bends down from heaven and whispers in your ear, “ I love all my kids, but you’re my favorite.”

May you know this truth—and may this truth set you free.

My Secret When I Feel Like I'm Drowning

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 12 Apr 2021 00:39:48 GMT

With blood smeared across his t-shirt and caked on his palms, Joe greeted me at the door of his home with a hug. I had arrived as a supportive friend in his time of loss but it was as if we had switched roles. I stood horrified at the scene—unable to articulate a single word. Sensing my shock, Joe’s steady hand clenched my trembling fingers as he declared four words I will never forget:

“God is STILL good, Jess.”

How can God still be good when you witness your twin brother shot in a hunting accident? How can God still be good when you carry him through the woods and plead with Jesus to spare his life? How can God still be good when a 20 year old dies senselessly minutes after arriving to the hospital?

I had never seen it before. It was mysterious. It was unbelievable. It was supernatural. It was what the Bible calls, “ peace that passes all understanding”.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and thanksgiving let your requests be made know to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7)

An inner calm stood guard over my friend’s heart in the middle of his tsunami. A peace I could not comprehend and never had experienced.

My emotions tend to run wild—kind of like my children. Maybe yours do too. Yet God’s peace isn’t based upon how level headed you are. Peace is not found inside yourself, requiring you to muster it up. Peace is found outside yourself, and the only requirement is to look up.

When we attempt to manufacture peace, it’s temporal. It shifts like sand beneath our feet. One minute we are stable on the shore of life, the next minute we are whisked away by the tide. This is why most of our lives feel like a twisted roller coaster ride of highs and lows. We are at the whim of the storms as they toss us every which way.

Stability isn’t something we master after devouring a self-help book on mindfulness. Calm is not only for those with steady temperaments who never lose their cool. Peace can’t be administered through a magic pill or achieved through excessive amounts of “self care”.

Peace is a person—a prince actually.

His name is Jesus and his presence transcends anything you face.

Have you ever seen the ocean crash upon the jagged shore? There is usually one lonely rock out in the water that gets pummeled by the waves—covering the rock entirely—and you think to yourself, “Well, that’s the end of that rock ”. Yet when the waves receded, there it still stands. It hasn’t budged an inch.

This is the “peace that passes understanding”.

No matter what tragedy life throws at you—if you look to Jesus—you will not be moved.

The Door Easter Unlocked

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Fri, 02 Apr 2021 13:49:47 GMT

"Your daughter has a mass on her lung the size of a grapefruit ,” the doctor announced emotionless.

My mind failed to compute his words. The day had been a whirlwind; one minute we were at the pediatrician’s office, the next we were escorted to the ER, and suddenly we found ourselves whisked away on a MedFlight to Boston Children’s Hospital.

The following morning, a team of doctors paraded into our room dressed in hazmat suits to report their latest findings. It was as if they were speaking a foreign language and I was only able to catch the scary words: oncology, mass, cancer, infectious disease.

Later that night, I climbed over the side rails of the hospital bed and curled up to my baby girl, maneuvering my way around the tubes and wires. My arm rose and fell in sync with her labored breathing. Just when I thought she was fast asleep, she rolled over—her eyes welling with emotion.

“I want to go home, Mommy. Please let me go home,” she begged while squeezing my fingers as hard as she could.

“Not yet, Honey. The doctors have to figure out what’s wrong, ” I reminded her as I tried to choke back the tears.

While she slept, I refused to let her go. I feared she wouldn’t make it through the night. As I laid in bed, a million worst-case scenarios ran through my head—envisioning myself banging on a locked door in heaven plastered with deadbolts.

In my darkest hour, I pleaded with God:

Father, please take this away. I will do anything—anything for my girl. Let me switch places with her. Why her? Why not me?

I repeated this prayer for hours until I drifted off to sleep.

Yet my prayer was nothing new to God. He had heard it once before, 2,000 years ago.

Jesus was betrayed by the very people he was sent to love. His best friends had deserted him. His execution was imminent. In his darkest hour, he pleaded with God:

Father, please take this away. Yet your will not mine. I will do anything—anything for my kids. Let me switch places with them. Why them? Why not me?

And God granted his request. The Father did the one thing no parent should ever have to do—turn his back on his own son. While on the cross, Jesus felt his Dad’s cold shoulder as he wailed in agony, “Father, why have you abandoned me?”

Jesus’ love compelled him to switch places with us. He lived a perfect life and then chose to carry the weight of our punishment so we could have a relationship with our heavenly Father. The day Jesus was buried, all of hell threw a victory party. Little did they know, three days later Jesus would rise and put death to death once and for all.

What does that mean for us today? EVERYTHING.

Jesus’ resurrection unlocked the revolving door in heaven; the same one I was pounding on. Every deadbolt was broken, not just to bring us to heaven—but to bring heaven to earth.

After a month-long hospital stay—two days before Easter—my daughter was discharged. Miraculously, the mass had shrunk to the size of a grape with no treatment!

To this day, my daughter is a medical anomaly.

And to this day, death has no hold on me.

Why I'm Ready to Ditch the Mask

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 28 Mar 2021 02:38:41 GMT

“I’m sick of these masks,” Isaac whined as he climbed into the car, yanking the elastic band off his ears.

“I know buddy. I am too.”

“I never can tell if my teacher is mad or happy because I can’t see her mouth, ” he continued.

If there is one thing I miss more than movie theaters and birthday parties—it’s the power of a smile.

I haven’t seen a smile in a public setting in over a year. That does something to a person.

In 2019, a survey revealed 1 in 10 Americans struggled with anxiety or depression. This January, the same survey concluded 1 in 4 Americans now struggle with anxiety or depression.

It’s not supposed to be this way.

Every human is created in the image of God—possessing a body, a soul, and a spirit. Each of these are interconnected. If you’re battling stress, it will plague your mind, attack your emotions, and wreck havoc on your physical body. If you’re diagnosed with cancer—it not only eats away at your cells but at your very soul.

I believe in following precautions but I fear we have elevated the health of our physical bodies while neglecting our souls and spirits—forgetting they are all intertwined.

Science calls this the mind-body connection. The sheer activity of moving your facial muscles to form a smile (even if you’er faking it) creates positive emotions. When we smile, the emotional center of the brain releases neurotransmitters encouraging us to see the world in an optimistic light.

In an essence, smiling causes us to view life with a pair of rose-colored glasses. And if there is ever a time in history we need a healthy dose of positivity, it’s now.

“A cheerful heart bring a smile to your face; a sad heart makes it hard to get through the day.” ( Proverbs 15:13)

In a world void of smiles, and hugs, and pats on the back—it’s hard to make it through the day. Why? Because over 55% of communication is non-verbal. As humans we do not express our thoughts solely with words, but through touch, through smiling, and through our body language. We are not fully communicating—or dare I say—living, when we remove this beautiful way of connecting.

When my daughter falls on the playground and skins her knee, she doesn’t need a bandaid, or a sticker, or a popsicle. She needs the loving touch of a teacher as she hobbles to the nurses office.

When my friend miscarries, she doesn’t need a list of reasons why stillbirths are common, or a care emoji posted to her Facebook wall. She needs the warmth of my shoulder as we sit in silence and she cries in my arms.

When my father mourns the death of the love of his life, he doesn’t need an obituary, or a beautiful casket spread, or a card in his mailbox. He needs hugs from friends in the receiving line, and the reassuring hand of his daughter clenching his as he shares memories with the crowd.

When an elderly woman struggling with Alzheimer’s wanders into Walmart, she doesn’t need to follow the red arrows on the floor, or to maintain a six-foot distance from strangers. She needs a kind soul to take her by the arm, lean in, and whisper, “What can I help you find, Honey? ”

A wise Man once said, “ It’s not good for man to be alone” and I think He was right.

Why I Quit Going to Church

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 21 Mar 2021 15:41:47 GMT

Why I Quit Going to Church

I quit going to church.

This may sound surprising coming from a pastor’s wife, but it's true.

People stop attending church for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes they feel lost in the crowd and don't see value in waking up early on a Sunday morning.

INSERT SNOOZE BUTTON.

Other times, people are offended by the pastor. (If that's me, I need marriage counseling.) Most of the time, our lives get too dang busy. Between sport practices, music lessons, job responsibilities, and family functions—we are fried. We convince ourselves that all we need is a day to relax, binge-watch Netflix, forget to shower, and sit in our pjs until noon. Soon a habit is formed and church is a distant memory.

Why did I quit going to church? Church is a struggle for my autistic daughter. She gets agitated due to the loud noises and crowd. The children's pastor has gone above and beyond to accommodate Mara by providing a special needs classroom but it just isn't working. For this season, I will be staying home streaming the service on Facebook LIVE while sipping coffee, un-showered in my pjs.

But back to you, What's keeping you from church?

Most likely, it's not the irrational screams of your autistic child. I'm not encouraging people to quit going to church. Actually, I want to challenge you.

"And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another."

(Heb. 10:25)

If you're struggling with discouragement—rather than googling inspirational quotes to post on Instagram—maybe you need to surround yourself with others who can pray for and encourage you.

"But our bodies have many parts, and God has put each part just where he wants it. How strange a body would be if it had only one part! Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you...all of you together are Christ's body and each of you are a part of it." (I Cor. 12:18-27)

Christ is the head of the church. We are his body. Yet a lot of us function like a severed pinkie finger—flapping up and down on the pavement but getting nowhere. We are spinning our wheels, always busy yet lacking purpose. If I could sit in your kitchen and chat with you over a cup of coffee, I would look you square in the eyes, grab your hands and say...

You were NEVER meant to do this life alone. God doesn't want you to be independent. You are part of a whole.

Some of you may argue you can have a relationship with Jesus outside of church. You’re right. But guess what? You will never accomplish anything for God on your own. You need a body.

I read in a medical journal that once a limb is severed from the body that it only has a 6-12 hour window of time in which it can be reattached. If a surgeons waits any longer, the tissue will deteriorate and die. Don't waste another day being separated from the people God wants you to do life with.

Find a church to call your own.

And you're welcome to come un-showered in your pjs to ours!

The Cardboard Box

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 15 Mar 2021 00:36:10 GMT

I was startled by the knock. I wasn’t expecting anyone and was still sporting my pajamas. I peered through the crack of my door to discover Jesus standing with a cardboard box in hand. I welcomed him in. As he strolled into the living room, I found myself fixing my hair and frantically chucking toys into a nearby bin in a futile attempt to tidy up.

I’m a mess Jesus.

He didn’t seem to notice the disarray of my house or the snarls in my hair. Settling on my couch, he grabs my hand and smiles. Without a word, he slowly opens the box. I peeked inside to see what gift he brought—only to discover the box was empty.

Without a word, Jesus starts packing. First, he reaches for my job.

Oh wait Jesus. Don’t take that. I need my job. How am I going to pay the bills?

He smiles. He doesn’t seem concerned.

He then walks over to the hall closet. He grabs my some of my dearest friendships off the shelf.

Oh Jesus, don’t pack up my friends. They keep me sane.

He turns his head to acknowledge he has heard me but continues into the kitchen. He opens up the cupboard and pulls out the deed to my house.

Jesus, not the house. I don’t want to move. I finally feeling settled and comfortable.

He smirks and responds, “I never intended for my kids to get comfortable.”

He then heads upstairs towards my daughter’s bedroom. He twists the doorknob as my stomach churns.

Please, don’t touch my kids. They are my everything.

Jesus presses his index finger against his lip, signaling me to remain quiet—not wanting to wake the children. Slowly, one-by-one, he packs each of my kids into his mysterious box.

After several hours, everything about me was encapsulated inside that little box. Jesus then secures the seams with packaging tape, blocking the only rays of light streaming through the cracks.

He carries me for several feet and sets me down in the darkness. His footsteps trail off in the distance. My only companion—silence.

There I sat, and sat, and sat. I was sure he would come back and rescue me. I was sure he just had an errand to run. He would return, eventually. He must be testing my patience.All the while, the world continued to keep buzzing along without me. Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into years.

Like an old box of unwanted junk in the attic, I was forgotten.

Eventually, I learned to live in the darkness. I stopped hoping. I stopped waiting. It was as if I slipped into a coma. Breathing in and out—yet completely void of life.

Then out of no where—after years of waiting—the box cracked open and a spotlight shone so bright, I was nearly blinded by it. As my eyes adjusted, I scrambled to make sense of my surroundings. I saw dazzling ornaments of glass and glistening objects all around. I squinted to decipher more. I wasn’t in a dusty attic, as I had assumed. Rather, I had spent years in the dark on the shelf of a beautiful china cabinet.

You were not set down and forgotten. Rather, you were set up by Jesus who is waiting for the perfect moment to flick the switch and display his precious gem for the world to see.

“The Lord will hold you in his hand for all to see—a splendid crown in the hand of God. Never again will you be called Rejected. Your new name will be My Delight.”

(Isaiah 62:3-4)

How to Make Decisions When You're Driving Blind

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 08 Mar 2021 03:20:15 GMT

I’m cheap and blind—a bad combination.

I have been walking around for a month wearing one contact.

This is not a new thing. As a young adult, I purchased contacts—wore them longer than directed—and did not buy new ones until I won the lottery. Those tiny pieces of plastic are expensive!

One time, I gave a girl a ride home from a youth event. It was late. It was dark. And you guessed it,I only had one contact in. She lived in the middle of nowhere.

“Are you sure you’re going to make it home Mrs. Hurlbut?”

I assured her I would be fine. Approaching the intersection, I strained to read the street sign. No luck. I shifted into park, climbed out of the car, and examined the sign. Standing directly in front of the guide post, I squinted as if my life depended on it, and was still was unable to make out a single letter.

I climbed back into the car—only to discover the gas gauge was on E.

I told you I was cheap.

I was lost and running on empty.

Isn’t this how we feel? Stuck at an intersection, trying to figure out which way to turn, yet we can’t see ten feet in front of us.

I have no idea what next month is going to look like.

Heck, I have no idea what tomorrow may look like. Maybe my kids will be quarantined. Maybe I’ll be working from home. Maybe I'll be looking for another job. Maybe someone I love will be sick.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

How do we make life-altering decisions with all those maybes hanging around.

1. PHONE AN EXPERT.
Do you know who I called when I was stranded? My husband. Why? Because he was a mailman and could drive those back roads in his sleep from the passenger seat of the car (that’s what rural carriers do).

Instead of calling one your friends for advice—most of which are as blind as we are—what if we cried out to Jesus for direction? He created the roads after all.

I’m not talking vague prayers like, “Bless my day”. I mean crazy specific prayers:

“End this relationship if it’s not of you.”
“If this job is right, open doors.”
“If I’m suppose to move, confirm this.”

I spent years praying vague prayers, which resulted in me continually feeling lost and believing God didn’t care.

2. MOVE.
God can't move a parked car.

How many years have you wasted squinting upward, studying a street sign—paralyzed by fear—unable to move?

Once you sense God is leading you, although your vision will still be hazy, you have to turn at the intersection. You can’t stay put because you’re worried you might make a wrong turn. Move already!

3. YOU MIGHT STILL FEEL LOST—BUT YOU’LL GET THERE.
God’s word is a lamp to our feet. Do you know how far you can see with a flashlight strapped to your head? I do. I run with a headlamp. I can only see enough to take one more step. So I take one step. And then the next. And then the next. Do you know when I stop seeing anything? When I refuse to move.

My blurry vision never improved, but guess what? I made it home. Why? Because the reassuring voice on the other line would not hang up until he knew his bride was safe in his arms.

Behind Closed Doors

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 22 Feb 2021 04:06:05 GMT

M y kids have knack for breaking things. I should put this talent to good use. As a way to earn extra cash, maybe I could contract them out as product testers. Any takers?

My ad would read as such:

Do you have an item you consider indestructible? Simply drop it off at 23 Hillcrest Ave and in a day we will dispute the validity of your claim!

My daughter Mara, is an expert in this area. Autism is a social disorder and children on the spectrum can become overwhelmed by noise and unpredictability. Not that my other four children are noisy or unpredictable. ;)

Most days, Mara enjoys time alone and to ensure this, she locks her bedroom door to keep the other kids out.

Last summer, Mara somehow managed to break the lock on her door and was trapped inside. I finagled with the keys to no avail, all the while, Mara was panicking within. I called my husband at work and he rushed home. He removed the entire doorknob in hopes of releasing the prisoner. No luck! The only thing left to do was to remove the door from its hinges. Finally an hour later, Mara was free.

As crazy as this escapade sounds, how many of us do the same thing in our lives?

HOW MANY DOORS HAVE YOU TRIED TO PRY OPEN?

Maybe you believed God told you to pursue a certain goal, job, or relationship. You work hard to make it happen. You sweat over the lock and feel trapped inside when God doesn’t seem to be moving fast enough.

You stress.

You worry.

You try harder.

You manipulate.

You undermine.

You pray desperate prayers.

Yet the door won’t budge.

Question: How do you know the difference between working hard to make something happen and forcing it to happen?

Answer: If you feel like you’re STRIVING to open a door, it’s not God’s timing.

There is a big difference between bearing fruit and bearing children .

And all the moms out there shouted, Amen!

When a tree bears fruit, it doesn’t have to strive to bring it forth. The fruit appears, naturally. On the other hand, when a woman goes into labor, it’s a lot of hard work, sweat, and tears.

Jesus said in John 15:5 , “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do NOTHING.”

Have you ever seen an apple tree stress out?

Have you ever witnessed a vineyard scrambling to produce its grapes?

Of course not!

“ For promotion comes neither from the east nor from the west nor from the south. But God is the Judge: He puts down one, and exalts another.”Psalm 75:6-7

What door are you trying to pry open?

You can trust Him with your life.

Most of our stress is self-induced and it comes from place of deep mistrust.

There is NOTHING you can do apart from Him. So, trade in your crowbar today for a key from your Father and allow him to make a way for you.

Three Life Lessons From Cobra Kai

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 08 Feb 2021 04:29:42 GMT

M y son roped me into watching the Netflix series Cobra Kai. It’s a quirky martial arts comedy featuring the original actors from the film Karate Kid as adults. Daniel is a wealthy, successful car salesman. Johnny, Daniel’s rival, is broke handy man with a heavy drinking problem.

In the first episode, Johnny hits rock bottom. Watching an old military rerun, suddenly the narrator’s voice booms through the screen as if h e is speaking directly to him and says: God doesn’t give people things he doesn’t want them to use.

Isn’t that truth? Yet most of us don’t utilize what is in our hands. It reminds me of a story Jesus told:

A wealthy businessman went on vacation. He distributed his wealth among three servants. The first servant received five talents, the second received two talents, and the third was given one.

Let me interject - a talent isn’t what you’re thinking. The master wasn’t giving his servants mad guitar skills or artistic watercolor abilities. He was giving money, and lots of it. A talent was actually a sum of money, equivalent to 250 pounds of gold! We are talking about a lot of cash!

The businessman returned and called his workers to account. The first two servants both doubled their wealth. But the third was afraid of losing what he was given. He grabbed a shovel and buried his talent in the ground.

The wealthy man was ecstatic with the first two workers. He praised them both exclaiming, “Well, done my good and faithful servants.” But the employer was furious with the third servant. He took the one talent away from him and gave it to the guy with ten talents saying:

“To those who use well what they are given, even more will be given. But those who do nothing, even what little they have will be taken away!”

1. EVERYTHING YOU HAVE IS FROM GOD

Everything you have is from God: your house, your job, your stamp collection, your kids, the amount of money in your bank account (or lack thereof), your talents, your skills, everything!

Far too often, we steal God’s glory and boast in all these things as if we achieved them. We are not owners of anything, but stewards of everything.

2. DON’T WASTE YOUR TALENTS ON YOURSELF

I learned this lesson the hard way. I competed on American Ninja Warrior. I set out to raise awareness for adoption, but along the journey I become obsessed with getting stronger and winning the competition. Pride comes before a fall, and it sure did for me! I slipped on the first obstacle, an obstacle that an 80-year-old veteran completed several minutes later. Sopping wet, wrapped in my red POM Wonderful™ towel, I received yet another serving of humble pie.

Pride points to oneself and say, “Hey, look at me!”
Humility points to God and says, “Hey, look at Him!”

3. IF YOU DON’T USE IT, YOU’LL LOSE IT

This is the exact opposite of how the world works. If I use my cell phone all day, the battery will die. If my son eats all my Pringles, I won’t get a snack at the end of the night. If my husband works construction for ten hours, his energy will be zapped.

In the world, if you use it, YOU LOSE IT.
But in the Kingdom of God, if you use it, YOU WILL BE GIVEN MORE.

Invest your talents in loving others and glorifying God and then watch them multiply. I have seen this in my life. As a teen, I had no abilities to speak of. But the more I have been faithful in the little things, the more God has entrusted to me.

4. USING YOUR TALENTS WILL REQUIRE RISK

Faith is spelled R-I-S-K! You can’t do much for God if you aren’t willing to take risks. The servant with one talent was too afraid to lose what was given to him, so he avoided risk at all costs. Buried in the ground, it was no longer in his face taunting him and reminding him of the weighty responsibility he had been given. He could then carry on with his daily life. Yet his life had no impact. It had all been lived for himself.

The truth is, if I risk and lose, all the loss falls on me.
But if I risk and gain, all the gain goes to Go d.

What about you? Do you avoid risks at all cost? Each one of us has been given something. Either you are investing it or burying it.

You gain nothing if you risk nothing…

“ Our greatest talent and treasure is our ability to love, and in this enterprise the champion is the greatest risk taker. The one willing to invest himself where the odds appear most against him.”

Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis

Why We Can't Stop Lying

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 08 Feb 2021 04:24:56 GMT

After a painstaking thirteen years of siblings jumping on his bed, stealing his belongings, and leaving trails of Goldfish™ crumbs as evidence - my oldest son Jeremiah earned his own bedroom.

Dragging his comforter down the hallway, there was a skip in his step, like a giddy school girl on the first day. His previous roommate, my son Isaac on the other hand, was sobbing.

“Jeremiah, don’t leave me! Jeremiah, stay one more night. Jeremiah, I’ll miss you.”

“I’m crying because I have been keeping something from Jeremiah” Isaac confessed.

At this point, I’m picturing a wad of stolen cash hidden under his pillow, or Jeremiah’s Air Pods to be nestled in the front pouch of Isaac’s book bag.

“I have hidden this for a long time” Isaac continued. “ The truth is, Jeremiah is the most annoying brother in the whole world but I REALLY DO LOVE HIM. ”

And the floodgates burst open once again.

This is one of those stories I needed to share with Isaac’s future girlfriend in order to mortify him at the opportune time. Yet something struck me about the scenario. It took a moment of loss for my son to open up and share how he really felt about his big brother.

We’re not very good at being honest, are we? My son Isaac is only 8 years old, yet he has already earned his Doctorate of Deceit.

Most of us are really good at lying. I’m not talking about the little white lies we sneak in every now and then. I’m talking about the big stuff.

We lie to the ones we love.
We lie to ourselves.
We lie to God.

Why? Because we believe the lie that we won’t be loved for who we really are. If someone truly knew me, they would leave. If people discovered all my faults, they would turn tail and run. If God knew the crap in my heart, he would never accept me.

With God, it’s more important to BE than to SEEM.

Hebrews 4:13 states, “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes, and he is the one to whom we are accountable.”

Remember the nightmare where you show up to school in your birthday suit? This is how we stand before God.

He knows your pain.
He knows your faults.
He knows your doubts.
Stop pretending he doesn't.

Because this humbling place is the beginning of relationship. Intimacy is really IN-TO-ME-YOU-SEE.

God sees it all and continually loves us despite ourselves

Knocking Out Anxiety Like Rocky

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 10 Jan 2021 04:15:37 GMT

“Race you to the top!”

I mounted my pink Huffy™ bike adorned with sparkly handlebar streamers and took to the road like a rebel without a hemet. I peddled as fast as my 8-year-old legs could carry me. With the wind whipping through my pigtails, I reached the summit completely out of breath but mustered enough strength to pump my fists in the air like Rocky Balboa in victory.

“No fair! Your legs are longer than mine! ” My friend Tiffany whined.

Riding bikes around my neighborhood was an adventure. My course was often limited to traversing up and down our dead-end street. Yet every once in awhile, my mom allowed me to venture to the ginormous hill behind our house. The trek uphill was killer on our tiny calf muscles, but the burn was worth it as we coasted down the sloping stretch of road screaming our guts out.

In an instant, my joyous shout morphed into a shriek of terror. My shoelace was wound around my pedal causing me to fly over the handlebars and crash headfirst into the curb. My knees and elbows were caked in gravel and my heart welled up with fear.

I’m never going down that deathtrap-of-a-hill again. What was I thinking?

My bike sat in the garage the rest of the year. Fear once again successfully sideline d me.

Maybe anxiety has twisted around your heart and caused the forward motion of your life to come to a screeching halt. I heard it once said that worry is like a rocking chair: you’re always moving but never going anywhere. Regret may keep you looking backward, but anxiety keeps you from moving forward.

“Anxiety weighs down the heart but a kind word cheers it up.” - Proverbs 12:25

All it takes is a few loose, anxious thoughts to get caught in your wheels and suddenly you’re spiraling downhill and colliding with the curb. If you let it, anxiety will trip you up time and time again.

The truth is, we have a lot to be anxious about right now. So how do we keep moving forward when our fearful thoughts act as an anchor, dragging us down into the murky waters of despair?

The answer? TIE YOUR SHOES! Double knot them if you must.

The Bible teaches us to take every loose thought captive. But how can we grab hold of our thoughts and tie them up tight?

I DENTIFY THEM.

Every anxious thought sounds the same. Each lie whispered into our hearts starts with the same two words: “WHAT IF…”

WHAT IF…my loved one gets COVID and passes away?

WHAT IF…my kids fall behind in school and never catch up?

WHAT IF…things never return to “normal”?

2. CAPTURE THEM.

When a felon is captured they are handcuffed and sent to jail. They are no longer able to roam freely. Just as you would never allow a criminal to wander around your property, you must do the same with anxious thoughts. Drive the stake in the ground for the NO TRESPASSING sign and refuse to let these rebels make their home in your mind.

3. REPLACE THEM.

It’s not enough to identify and capture a thought. Each lie has to be replaced with a truth. Here are some of my go-to’s:

John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Isaia h 41:10

Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Philippians 4:6-7

D o not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Psalm 27:1

The Lord is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?

Joshua 1:9

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

1 Peter 5:7

Cast all your anxiety on him b ecause he cares f or you.

2 Timothy 1:7

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

Psalm 91 (Read the whole thing!)

Print these out and post them on your fridge. Write a truth on your hand with a Sharpie. Plaster your mirror with sticky notes. Do whatever it takes to get these truths into your being.

And don’t be hard on yourself when anxious thoughts pop back up. My seven year old son Isaac still struggles to tie his shoes.

It takes work.

It takes practice.

It takes persistence.

But once you have the double knot down, you can do it in your sleep. With your anxious thoughts securely tied, you’ll be free to hit the road and run the race God has set before you - sparkly streamers and all!

What to Expect When You're Expecting

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 04 Jan 2021 03:37:51 GMT

“PUSH!” The doctor screamed as I clenched my husband’s hand, to the point I could hear his knuckles crack.

Must. Punch. Someone. My husband? He IS the one who got me into this mess. The nurse? No lady, I don’t want to go for a walk right now. It feels like a watermelon is going to fall out of me! She needs a good smack. The doctor? That might be a bad idea since he is the only one able to deliver my child. But what the heck is that metal contraption in his hand?

I delayed traveling to the hospital to the last possible minute in-order to avoid spending needless time in immense pain, half-naked with strangers gathered round. Unfortunately, the baby was ready to make an appearance as soon as I was wheeled into the main entrance. Due to my poor timing, no pain meds could be administered.

“No epidural! This is NOT what I signed up for.”

I dreamed of welcoming a new life into the world. I signed up for an addition to our family that would have my husband’s eyebrows and my dimples. I signed up for onesies, crib sets, and decorating the nursery like a Pinterest photo.

This was NOT what I signed up for.

No one can prepare you for labor. Reading “ What to Expect When You’re Expecting” can’t virtually transport you into the delivery room. No women’s advice can equip you for the gruesome battle you are about to face. And on top of it all, Hollywood lies to you! Hallmark portrays phony scenes of labor and delivery: the woman’s hair perfectly in place, makeup on point, one push and the baby is miraculously clean and swaddled in her mother’s arms while Leonardo DiCaprio grabs the newborns hand and whispers, “Never let go.”

No. Labor and delivery is messy. Painful. Traumatizing. But, oh so worth it!

The Bible says, the entire world is currently undergoing labor pains:

“ For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children …” (Romans 8:22-23)

2020 has been a long, drawn-out, excruciating trip to the delivery room for us all.

This is NOT what we signed up for.

No one could prepare us for the pain, the heartache, or the medical apparel we would all be donning. I don’t have all the answers. My finite brain can’t possibly understand God’s glorious plan. No part of me believes God is causing this pandemic, but I often inquire why He is allowing it.

When questions swirl in my mind and doubt overwhelms my heavy heart, I remember this verse. I eagerly hope for the day God will give us our full rights as his adopted kids .

My husband and I have had the privilege of adopting a sibling group of two from foster care. The beautiful thing about adoption is everything we own will one day be theirs. My eight year old son has already claimed our beautiful home on th e river when he is older and marries his first grade crush. My daughter will inherit all my jewelry and my “fancy high heels” (which I never wear).

They will have access to all we possess.

Not because of anything they have done.

Not because they are my flesh and blood.

Simply because adoption supersedes the life they were dealt.

Our adoption as God’s children will one day supersede the life we have been dealt on this earth. There will be no fear. No pain. No sickness. No tears. No death.

As we enter into 2021, let us lay hold of all the goods in the heavenly storehouse our Father has set aside for us. Although the labor seems long, let’s remember a beautiful new life is always the end result!

And it will be oh so worth it!

Light Used to Live Here

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 27 Dec 2020 21:20:35 GMT

I skimmed my fingertips along th e white chipped stone as the ocean breeze filled my nostrils. Squinting upward at the lantern room, I imagined how many stairs one would have to climb to reach the top. I sipped my latte and sat in silence, gazing up at the weathered lighthouse from the jagged shore.

Such peace. Such beauty. Such potential.

I yelled to my hubby over the roar of the tide, “I feel like we’re in a postcard!”

Maine had always been a destination on my bucket-list. It was more beautiful than I imagined. Yet visiting lighthouse after lighthouse became a bittersweet expedition. There was a reoccurring thought I could not shake:

Light used to live here.

Something about this notion made me sad.

There are only a handful of operational lighthouses remaining in the U.S. Harbors now utilize electronic navigational systems, resulting in most lighthouses becomings shells light once lived in.

I know some shells light once lived in…

My little sister whose giggle was infectious. Who dreamed of being a bus driver. Who skipped around the neighborhood and stubbornly waited 6 hours at the corner for the ice-cream truck. Light used to live here.

My best friend whose teenage-self was bursting with God-dreams. Who would roll Hershey™ kiss wrappers into ti ny little balls and flick them at my head. Who hugged me so tight every time we said goodbye. Light used to live here .

The youth in my ministry who have come and gone. Hearts burning for Jesus. Radical. Willing to do anything for God.

Then.

Life.

Happened.

Light used to live here.

When things get real dark, it’s easy to get lost at sea. And 2020 has been a dark year for us all.

Sometimes I get angry at the darkness, at COVID, at this cold, cruel world. Other times, I find myself furious at the ones I love who have lost their way - desiring to grab them by their shoulders and shake them awake.

But the truth is this: People can’t BE it, until they can SEE it.

This is where you and I come in. Jesus said:

“You are the light of the world - like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket.” (Matt 5:14-15)

My son Isaac is afraid of the dark. Many nights, he comes into my room sobbing. His older brother sneaks out of bed, unplugs his night light and hides it. Other times, he throws a blanket over top of the night light. I have to stumble around the pitch dark room, searching for his lost light.

The truth is, the only way to defeat light is to hide it or cover it. Light can’t be extinguished. And light doesn’t strive to shine. Jesus didn’t say, “BECOME light”, he said “you ARE light”. There is nothing the enemy wants more than for us to be quiet Christians who hide away, only to emerge for church on Sunday.

You see, darkness is nothing in and of itself. Darkness is merely the absence of light.

The world isn’t dark right now because of a virus, or a president, or a corrupt government. The world is dark because far too many Christians are hiding their lights in their underwear drawer. Jesus called himself the light of the world and then left us with the same job description. What a great responsibility we have.

“ How can people call for help if they don’t know who to trust? And how can they know who to trust if they haven’t heard of the One who can be trusted? And how can they hear if nobody tells them? And how is anyone going to tell them, unless someone is sent to do it .” (Romans 10:15 MSG)

Stand up.

Fling off the basket of insecurity you’ve been hiding under.

Open your mouth.

Climb the winding staircase to the top of the lantern room and SHINE!

There is a dark world waiting on you…

The Prize Inside

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 19 Dec 2020 03:52:22 GMT

My introduction to motherhood had been the worst eight years of my life.

It’s hard to write this down for the world to read. Yet like my kids disenchantment after unwrapping their “ treasures” , I felt as if I had been ripped off.

Yet God is less concerned with our lives being neatly packaged product and more concerned with the prize inside.

God allowed the pain in my life to humble m e. And that’s when His strength became apparent—when I got out of the way. The death of my dreams, somehow quickened His life within me. I stopped boasting about my success and began sharing my failures. And when I did, something amazing happened: people began to witness God shining through my broken, messed up, stressed-to-the-max, dysfunctional life.

2 Corinthians 4 :6-7 states, “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this GREAT TREASURE. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”

And how is this prize revealed to the world? It is through the unadorned clay pot of my ordinary life. Clay pots and jars were common and used daily in Biblical times. The Greek word for clay is ostrakinos, which meant pottery shards. The fragile, brittle nature of clay utensils caused them to break easily. Oftentimes, a potter’s floor was covered in shards of clay. But rather than sweeping them aside and throwing them in the trash, the potter carefully collected the broken pieces one-by-one. He crushed them and mixed them with water, and was able to reuse these shards again and again.

You're never too broken to be used by God.

The Christian life is a paradox. The “ treasure” of God’s glory within us becomes increasingly brighter, as our external life remains an ordinary clay pot.

And it’s the broken areas of our lives that display his glorious light the brightest.

Hands Don't Lie

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sat, 19 Dec 2020 03:48:21 GMT

“I had held so many things in my hands, and I lost them all. But whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess.” ~ Martin Luther

You can tell a lot about a person by their hands. Can’t you?

The rough, worn-out hands of a hardworking man, fingernails caked with dirt, and mind heavy with regret.

The delicate, wrinkly hands of a newborn baby, clutching tightly onto everything as they explore their new world.

The well-manicured, soft hands of the woman who has spent time pampering herself, toiling for a beauty that despite her best efforts, continues to fade.

We may attempt to fool others, but our hands reveal our true age and our hands expose our true nature.

HANDS DON’T LIE!

My children may swear up-and-down they did not eat all the powdered donuts, but their hands tell a different story.

And so do yours…

When it comes to our inner lives, it’s less about the appearance of our hands and more about the position of them.

Some of us find our hands tense, grasping on to people and things in a desperate attempt to maintain control.

Fists clenched.

Striving.

Fighting.

Working tirelessly to keep all the balls in the air.

These were my hands. I had to fix everything. Be everything. Do everything. But at some point, a ball dropped. And then another. And then another. And finally, the entire universe came crashing down and I realized something:

CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION.

At that moment, my weary hands began to relax. Tired fingers slowly released my worries, my doubts, my agendas to God. I DROPPED ALL THE BALLS! I allowed the people in my life to breath again. And although it was petrifying, I knew it was the only option.

This week, we will celebrate Christmas. Santa will arrive, wrapping paper will be torn to shreds, and far too much money will have been spent on our credit cards. I pray amidst the hustle and bustle of the holidays you would take a minute to stand in awe at another set of hands.

Jesus was the Son of God, yet the Bible says he emptied himself of all his “God power”. In a sense, the position of his hands was palms up, wide open. At any moment, he could have ordered a legion of angels to rescue him from the cruel death he knew was imminent. At any instance, he could have proven to Pontius Pilate his divinity. In a whim, he could have accessed supernatural strength and climb down from the cross. But he didn’t…

He knew this secret, a secret God is continuing t o reveal to me . Absolutely NOTHING can touch me until first it has passed through God’s hands, and then Christs hands, and then into mine. If something in my life has come this far, it comes with a great purpose. Even though I may not fully understand in that mom ent, I can trust the hands who passed it to me.

Take time this Christmas to admire the steady, outstretched, hands of a loving Savior whose palms were pierced for you.

And remember…

HANDS DON’T LIE.

Awakening Awe

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Sun, 06 Dec 2020 22:04:22 GMT

AWAKENING AWE

“How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow?

Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” ~James 4:14

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the freckle on the tip of your daughter’s nose

or the pencil on the door frame as your son grows.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the grey wisp of hair over your grandma's eyes

Or the brisk gentle breeze as you say your goodbyes.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the newborn’s hand as they grasp your finger.

Or the alligator tears as you yank out the stinger.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the cardinals flitting in the blue above.

Or the etching in stone on the grave of your love.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the weathered rope swing where kids use to play

Or the rouge on her cheek as you give her away.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the quivering lip of your elderly mother.

Or the stranger who holds the door for ano ther.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the grains of sand as they slip through the glass

Or the seasons of souls as they change and they pass.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the fog that sweeps with the morning dawn

Or the life near one instant, and the next breath is gone.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

At the infant King nestled in the stall

Subduing death that once conquered us all.

Life is fragile, handle with care.

Life is fragile, sit back and stare.

A Backstage Pass

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 30 Nov 2020 03:53:52 GMT

Uncertainty.

It’s everywhere.

Next weekend things will be dramatically different but…

“No matter who is sitting in the President’s chair, God is still on the throne!”

This gives me peace. When I worry about the repercussions of this election and the rise of COVID cases, I’m reminded of this verse:

“Clearly, you are a God who works behind the scenes, God of Israel, Savior God.”

~ Isaiah 45:15

I have been to two Broadway plays in my lifetime and far too many high school musicals to count. One thing that leaves me in awe is the mysterious workings behind the scenes. Each production has a stage crew. These key players dress in black as not to be detected and work feverishly to orchestrate ornate scene changes and amazing transitions.

They work best in darkness.

They sweat tirelessly to make things right.

All the while we sit, oblivious until the next beautiful scene is revealed

And so it is with God:

He works best in darkness.

He sweats tirelessly to make things right.

All the while we sit, oblivious until the next beautiful scene is revealed.

Skeptical? Let me illustrate:

In 2011 my husband and I set out to pursue adoption. We were sent on a mission to rescue a child from a life of despair. We desired to be God’s hands and care for orphans in need. When social services contacted us stating a newborn baby boy needed a home, we were ecstatic. Fourteen months later, his sister came into our world. Since then, we have had the privilege of adopting these two spunky kiddos and they have become a part of our forever family.

And that should be the end of the story. Yet, God LOVES TO WORK BEHIND THE SCENES.

In 2016, life threw us a curve ball. Two of our three biological children were diagnosed with severe autism. Not the type of autism where your child struggles to make friends but the kind of autism that is filled with daily meltdowns and broken windows.

If we had’t answered the call and adopted, my oldest would only know the role of a caretaker - a caretaker with zero playmates. He would have no brother to challenge on the basketball court and no sister to protect from creepers in high school. As parents, we would be forced to care for two disabled children alone the rest of our lives with no family support. There would be little to no light at the end of our tunnel. Our future would be bleak but ... GOD LOVES TO WORK BEHIND THE SCENES!

God had not sent US to TO THESE CHILDREN.

God had sent THESE CHILDREN to US.

We were not the RESCUERS

We were the ones who needed to be RESCUED.

We weren’t saving THEM.

God was saving US.

No matter what transpires this next season, remember:

When God is hidden from your view, he’s still working on your behalf.

Stones in Your Pocket

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 30 Nov 2020 03:35:02 GMT

“While Goliath was filling the air with fear and intimidation, David quietly chose his stones.”

- Nate Johnston

My husband traveled to Israel twice. During his time, he immersed himself in all the Biblical sites and sounds. He lounged in a fishing boat on the Sea of Galilee. He attempted to walk on water. Apparently, he was lacking in the faith department and sank immediately. He visited the garden tomb where Jesus rose from the dead. He even trespassed in a farmer’s field and stole five smooth stones from the same brook David secured his in order to slay Goliath.

David and Goliath is one of my favorite Bible stories—but it almost seems unbelievable.

The Israelite and Philistine armies square off for battle in the Valley of Elah. Day-in-and-day-out, a 10-foot giant by the name of Goliath taunts the Israelites and their God. The entire army is terrified, hiding, and in need of Depends™.

For forty days straight, Goliath takes center stage and challenges a warrior to fight him. If he wins, all the Israelites would become the Philistine’s slaves and if his opponent wins, vice-versa.

Surprisingly, there were no volunteers, until a 12-year old boy named David delivers his brothers some bologna sandwiches. (OK, I’m embellishing a little but if my son Isaac was telling the story, it would definitely include his favorite: bologna sandwiches.)

David is appalled by the Israelite’s fear. He dashes to the shore of the same brook my husband stood at, runs his fingers through the same water, and gathers five smooth stones for his sling.

He positions himself in the most dangerous place to be and challenges Goliath. Why?

HE WAS CRAZY ENOUGH TO BELIEVE GOD WAS WITH HIM!

Are you?

The world is filled with fear and intimidation right now. We have all hunkered down and are praying for the giant named COVID to retreat. It’s easy to get sucked into the whirlwind of panic. Day-in-and-day-out, the media taunts us through the airwaves. The enormity of the situation makes each of us all feel small and powerless.

Yet a little shepherd boy proves to us all we can have peace and confidence during this time.

How?

HE BELIEVED GOD WAS FIGHTING FOR HIM.

“ Do not be afraid of them; the Lord your God himself will fight for you. ” ~ Deut. 3:22

If you feel small and insignificant.

YOU ARE.

But so is a stone.

If you feel you have nothing to offer.

YOU DON’T.

But neither did a 12-year old shepherd boy.

The stone was unremarkable. The boy was ordinary.

Yet a stone flung in FAITH at the enemy transforms into a Weapon of Mass Destruction.

What stones in your pocket need dusting off?

The Need You Were Created For

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 23 Nov 2020 02:27:34 GMT

M y eight-year-old adopted son popped his sopping wet hand out through the shower curtain, straining, as if trying to grasp something.

“Isaac, what do you need?”

“I’ll never stop reaching for her!” he proclaimed dramatically.

“Reaching for who?” I questioned, annoyed he was taking so long to wash up.

“My REAL mom.”

With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I grabbed his wrinkly brown fingers and squeezed them tight, stuck my head in the shower and whispered, “I know buddy!”

No matter how hard I try to bridge the distance - there will be a gap.

No matter how much love I pour into his tiny being - there will be a void.

No matter how great of a mom I am - I will never live up to the woman he has never met.

An old English Proverb states, “Necessity is the mother of invention.” The idea behind this quote is that the driving force for most new inventions is a NEED.

The claw of a hammer was created to address the need for pulling nails out of a board.

A stapler was created to address the need for keeping paperwork neatly together.

AirPods were created to address the need for all teens to ignore their parents.

But do you realize you were created with a purpose in mind? A specific NEED you were meant to fulfill?

Second Timothy 1:9 states God has “ saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his OWN PURPOSE and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus BEFORE TIME BEGAN.”

Let this sink in. God not only has a blueprint drawn out for your life, he sketched it before the beginning of time. God mapped out your destiny prior to separating the light from the darkness. Before he formed the earth and covered it with the seas, God knew you and had orchestrated a grand plan for your life. He has NEEDS only you can fill.

Reflecting on 2020, we can assuredly say, things are not suppose to be this way. The world is not as it should be. And if left with that thought, the lights in your heart will start to dim and your love will grow cold.

Yet God sits outside of time. He gazed at the timeline of the world from his throne in eternity. He saw the pain. He saw the heartache. He saw the NEEDs.

From this vantage point, he picked up a lump of clay and began molding and shaping a human being. He created their facial features, their stature, their talents, and added his finishing touches with a dash of personality and the weird birth mark you hate. He blew the breath of life within you and stood back in awe to admire his handiwork.

The driving force behind your creation was a NEED.

And most of the time, that NEED is wrapped up within the body of a tiny human being.

“ Do you want to do something beautiful for God? There is a person who needs you.

This is your chance. ” ~Mother Teresa

The Curse of a Perfectionist

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 23 Nov 2020 02:19:42 GMT

“ God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble.” ~James 4:6

I have spent most of my life trying to be the best. I call it the curse of a perfectionist.

The best child.

The best student.

The best friend.

The best wife.

The best mom.

As a perfectionist you have one competitor: yourself. You set an unrealistic standard that you must achieve. To onlookers, it appears noble at first glance. A “spirit of excellence”, they call it. But it is actually rooted in pride.

As a Christian, the curse of a perfectionist translates into my relationship with God.

The best Christian.

The best leader.

The best Bible reader.

The problem remained, the goal just shifted a little. The onlookers don’t just think my goals are noble, now they appear righteous!

Yet isn’t this the very thing Jesus hated about the religious leaders of his day? He called them white-washed tombs! Squeaky clean and sparkling on the outside, but on the inside they are filled with dead bones.

This is the terrifying part about being a perfectionist.

WE SHINE ON THE OUTSIDE BUT WE ARE DEAD ON THE INSIDE.

I believed that if I wanted to make God proud, I had a lot of work to do! If I wanted to receive the best gifts from God, the first place ribbon needed to be pinned to my shirt!

Yet the Kingdom of God is backward. Jesus said if you want to be the greatest, you must become the least. If you want to be first, you must be last. If you want to find life, you must die.

Perfectionists don’t like to be the least, or to be last, and we definitely don’t like to die!

But the truth is, God’s greatest gifts are reserved for those who climb down the ladder of success, not those to strive and fight their way up it.

“I used to thing that God’s gifts were on shelves one above the other, and that the taller we grew in Christian character the easier we could reach them. I now find that God’s gifts are on shelves one beneath the other. It’s not a question of growing taller, but of stooping down, to get His best gifts.”

~FB Meyer

Excuse me, Mr. Governor:

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Mon, 23 Nov 2020 02:17:15 GMT

E xcuse me, Mr Governor:

You can require me to wear a mask,

but I refuse don the coat of fear you’re selling.

I’m warm enough, thank you - clothed in the

robe of righteousness my Father gave me

(Isaiah 61:10)

You can bid me to shelter in place,

but I have found my home safe under His wings.

His faithful promises - my armor and protection.

(Psalm 91:4)

You can demand social distance,

but I will not stop pursuing those in need.

You can’t restrain love, compelling me to

care for my neighbors, the sick, and the shut-ins.

(Matt 25:34-40)

You can shut down Sunday services,

but you can’t dismember the church.

We are one body and what God joins together,

no MAN can separate!

(I Cor. 12:12-27) (Hebrews 10:25)

You can order a PAUSE on activities,

but you can’t halt the next move of God

It’s barreling like a locomotive -you might want to get out of the way!

(Matt 24:13-14)

You can cancel the holidays,

but the same Being whose birth and death enacted

the world to celebrate is STILL ON THE THRONE

and He commands me to “Rejoice!”

(Philippians 4:4)

You can warn me that COVID is deadly,

but my favorite Book reminds me that

NOTHING can separate me from God’s love.

Not death, not life, nor fears for today, or worries for tomorrow.

(Romans 8:35-38)

Oh, and one last thing Mr Governor:

Please, don’t take this personal.

It’s not that I’m rebellious.

It’s just my orders come from Higher-up!

***Disclaimer: I am in no way inferring that people who are older or have preexisting conditions and need to strictly obey CDC’s guidelines are lacking in the faith department.

It’s less about NOT FOLLOWING the guidelines and more about NOT FALLING for the lies lurking behind them. We need to remember WHO WE ARE and WHOSE WE ARE.

Believing Your a Bother

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Thu, 05 Nov 2020 02:34:15 GMT

I've always been bad at asking for things. When I was a kid, I never requested anything from my parents! Growing up as the middle child of a large family, I always felt I was a bother. Even when it came to school lunches, rather ask for the $1.25, I would scrounge in the change jar and collect dimes and nickels until I had enough. Honestly, most days I came up short. Yet rather than ask, I went to school knowing I would not eat lunch that day. Thankfully, I had a sweet friend who would take notice when I arrived at the cafeteria empty handed. His heart went out to me and he started telling his mom about the poor girl at school. Each day He would come to school with an extra dollar. That sweet boy is still taking care of me to this day... Gregory Hurlbut .

So, fast forward to the present.

I still struggle to ask for things.

I still believe the lie that I am a bother. Maybe you do too?

This translates into my relationship with God. I don't ask because I'm afraid of being disappointed. What if he doesn't come through? I don't ask because I mean, He's God, He has bigger things to worry about then my petty needs.

Yet the Bible actually says, "You have not, because you ask not." (James 4:2). God wants me to bring my needs before Him. So, lately I have been trying to put this into practice.

Back in January, God spoke to my heart to write. Now, I always enjoyed writing but this felt different. He wanted me to start to write down all He has taught me over the years and the ways the Holy Spirit has guided me throughout my life. On a practical level, the only real way I could do this is if I had a computer. My husband has a MacBook but it is utilized for his job at the church. Although he would often bring it home at night, I rarely have a quiet moment to sit down and write. So, I started to ask God for a laptop. I didn't tell a soul, including my husband that I needed one. I didn't search online to purchase one because honestly, we didn't have any extra money to purchase one. I just kept lifting this little prayer up to heaven:

"If you want me to write, you've got to provide, God.”

A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine posted on Facebook that he had a MacBook Pro for sale for $200! I wasn't even looking for it, it just popped up in my newsfeed. I immediately messaged him only to find out someone was on their way to pick it up. A deal too good to be true.

Again, I lifted up this little prayer to heaven, "If you want me to write, you've got to provide, God.”

I woke the next morning with a text message from my friend:

"They never showed, do you still want the computer?"

My heart leapt. It really wasn't about the computer. My Father in heaven heard me, cared about my need, and provided. All I had to do was ask!

All you have to do is ask.

YOU'RE NOT A BOTHER.

He's a good Dad that wants to give good gifts to his kids.

Offering Teaspoons

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 05:02:52 GMT

R unning is therapeutic for me. I don’t run because I ate one too many Twinkies™ or because I want to be fit. I run to get away! And every parent said, “Amen!”

One particular morning, when finishing my normal route, I was reflecting on the great need for foster and adoptive parents in the US. There are currently 123,000 kids in care who are in desperate need of a forever family. As I sprinted home and stopped to catch my breath, I asked God this question:

What else can I do to further the cause?

My husband and I had the privilege of adopting a sibling group of two from foster care in 2014 and with five kids, four of which were in diapers, we were at max capacity. Yet, I was distressed at the thought that there were 123,000 orphans trapped in the system (and I know this isn’t politically correct) that “nobody wanted”.

“Run for them”, a still small voice echoed in my spirit.

Then Jesus made me a promise that I cling to for dear life.

“If you take care of my kids, I’ll take care of yours.”

This impression from Jesus brought me to tears. I have two biological children who struggle with severe autism. Life is one giant challenge for them and my heart aches everyday because I can’t fix it. Most of the children in foster care currently are viewed by the world as “damaged goods”. Many are plagued with mental disabilities, reactive attachment disorder, physical limitations, or sometimes, all of the above.

It is so counterintuitive to believe that the best thing you can do to care for your kids, is to adopt more children, many of which have special needs themselves. Yet through my journey I have come to realize this glorious truth:

“Give, and it will be given back to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with THE MEASURE YOU USE IT WILL BE MEASURED BACK TO YOU.” - Luke 6:37-38

This verse references the Jewish custom of dry measure. If one was receiving a sack of corn or a bushel of grapes, those who were generous would shake the basket and press down the product in order to fit more, even to the point of overflowing. The truth is you can’t out give God. Yet the latter verse is the clincher for me. The MEASURE YOU USE, IT WILL BE MEASURED BACK TO YOU.

Imagine if I had a teaspoon in my hand, and with it I scoop that measure of myself out and I offer it to God. I may be feeling extra bountiful, and I dip my spoon in again and offer that much of myself to others. Then visualize God, ever so politely, taking that little utensil from my hand and with it he scoops up the same measure of his heavenly blessings and resources and pours them into my life.

There is more to life than looking out for you and your own.

Open your heart.

Open your hands.

Open your home.

And watch God open the windows of Heaven over your life.

Dear Special Needs Parents

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:57:39 GMT

Dea r Special Need Parents,

As infection rate creeps upward across the country and you continue to shelter in place, I see you.

I see you chasing your child around the house, cleaning up smeared yogurt and tripping over toy avalanches, all the while trying to keep your cool. I see your coffee still sitting in the microwave after you have attempted to reheat it five times and still have not had a sip. I hear you mumble under your breath and complain to your spouse, “I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS!”

I see you.

I know the pain of scrolling through Facebook and seeing all your friends camping and vacationing. You should be excited for them, but jealousy seeps into your heart like a poison. You attempted to go to the park yesterday and that ended in a meltdown, so vacation is out of the question.

I see you.

I know how many times you have Googled self care, only to come to the realization that most of the recommendations aren’t humanly possibly for you.

“Suggestion One: Take a day off and head to the spa.”

You laugh like a madman and roll your eyes. Never going to happen!

I see you.

I see your hopes dashed as they cancel summer school. Your greatest fear has come to pass, as you watch your child regress and you are powerless to fix it. I know how exhausted you are, yet you lie awake at night mulling over the governor’s latest address regarding education in the fall.

I see you.

I know how inadequate you feel. You can’t give your child the education they need. You can’t possibly be a mom, a special ed teacher, an occupational therapist, a physical therapist, and a speech instructor all-in-one. To top it off, you don’t even feel like a good parent. You yell more than you care to admit. Your child spends hours in front of the TV or on their iPad inorder for you to remain sane and make it through another day. You measure yourself against parents of typical kids, and you always fall short.

I see you.

And although I don’t have ANY answers and I have no idea what the future holds for your child, I want to convey this one message:

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Hoarding - Buried Alive

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:55:04 GMT

Have you watched the TLC show Hoarding: Buried Alive? I have a dream that one day I will produce and star in my own version of this popular show and rename it Declutterer: Empty Inside. You see, I’m not a hoarder. Oh no! I’m the other end of the spectrum. I’m a compulsive declutterer. What is that you may ask? I have an excessive desire to discard objects in my home and living area.

“Thanks for the birthday card friend!” Remove cash. Discard in wastebasket.

“That’s a lovely picture you drew, Sweetie!” When child walks away, stuff artwork deep down in the garbage, piling extra debris on top so it won’t be spotted.

“Honey, where is the leftover meatloaf from last night?” In the trash! I don’t usually waste food but I had to make room for the groceries.

My favorite was last week. We had a camp fire and I couldn’t bear to look at the disorganized bookshelf in my dining room any longer. What was the cause of the clutter? All those dang remote learning packets my five kids had collected in the last six months! So….we burned them all in the fire chanting:

No more pencils

No more books

No more teacher’s dirty looks

Kick the tables

Kick the chairs

Kick the teachers down the stairs

Just kidding, we only sang the first three lines. I had never heard the whole song until I looked it up to write this piece. Geesh! That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

I can’t stand clutter! It feels therapeutic to let something go and free up space. We have to do the same in our life. You can’t add something to your plate without taking something off. Several weeks ago, I turned down my first teaching job, a job I would have LOVED to have. I returned to college two years ago and invested a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to finish my Master’s Degree. I was so ready to teach, have my own classroom, and wear a facemark all day. Ok! That last one was a lie. But when I prayed about the decision, I didn’t have peace. Everything in me logically said, “Take the job!” Yet sometimes God works outside of logic. Sometimes God calls us to give up the things we have worked so hard for, the very things he promised us.

Don’t believe me? Meet my friend Abraham. He hoped and prayed his whole life to have a child. No luck. Then at the ripe old age of 99, an angel appears and tells him God is going to give him a son. His wife burst out laughing at the absurdity of the matter. This son, Isaac, would be the beginning of a line of descendants more numerous than the stars in the sky. Crazy; right? Do you know what is more insane? Abraham’s wife DOES give birth to a son, only to then be told by God to take a hike up a mountain and to offer that son as a sacrifice. Say what?

You see, God cares more about our obedience and surrender, than he does about blessing us or making all of our dreams come true. People often see God as a magic genie. Rub a bottle. Make a wish. If you believe, you will receive. Yet this is not how God operates. He often requires us to give up the things he promised us, so that we will learn to trust him more.

My life motto is 2 Samuel 24:23, in which King David demands to pay a peasant for his threshing floor, wood, and ox to make an offering to the Lord in order to stop a plague that ravaged Israel. The farmer wanted to give it to David, free of charge. Dave’s response:

“I will not offer to the Lord my God that which COST ME NOTHING.”

What we are willing to PAY for something determines how much we VALUE it. What we are willing to LET GO of for someone, determines our love.

“If you’re following God and haven’t lost much of what you’ve been holding on to - follow a little closer” ~ Bob Goff

Who Told You That You Can't?

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:52:29 GMT

Growing up, basketball was my thing. Curling up on the couch with a bag of burnt microwave popcorn and watching the Syracuse Orangemen with my father was a treat. I played on a house league in elementary and I was promoted to first string in junior high. But when I turned fifteen, my professional basketball career came to a screeching halt. High school tryouts were two days long. On day one, I struggled to keep up with the older girls. I had gone from feeling like a superstar to feeling like I didn’t quite measure up. I chucked my sweat-drenched clothes in my locker and slammed the door of my parent’s station wagon.

“I’m not going back tomorrow.” I murmured.

“Why? What happened?”, inquired my dad.

“I SUCK. That’s what happened. I missed too many shots. I’m not as fast as the rest of them. The older girls were whispering. I just feel out of place. I don’t even want to be on the team, anyways.”

And that was that. The abrupt end of my basketball career. I spent the next four years of high school making banana splits at DQ rather than making three pointers.

But don’t we all do this in life? WE GIVE UP ON THE THINGS WE LOVE BECAUSE WE ARE AFRAID. Fear is the thief that robs us from all God has called us to do. Fear comes in three forms:

1. FEAR OF FEEDBACK

Have you ever been to a kids sporting event and their is that one obnoxious parent on the sidelines that won’t shut-up? I’m all about cheering for our kids, but this parent wants to criticize everyone; the coach, the ref, the other players. No matter what, in life you’re always gonna have someone screaming from the sidelines. Those who are often the most vocal are the ones who have way too much time on their hands and the irony is they aren’t even in the game themselves. Guess what? NO ONE ON THE BLEACHERS CAN DISQUALIFY YOU!

2. FEAR OF FAILURE

If you can drowned out the noise from the sidelines, the next battle you have to face is between your two ears. We are our own worst critics. The loudest voice is often our own. Someone looks at us a certain way and we interpret it to mean we don’t measure up. We take a statement or remark and twist it into rejection. We are constantly looking for ways to disqualify ourselves because WE ARE AFRAID TO TRY AND FAIL. And guess what? FAILURE DOESN’T DISQUALIFY YOU!

3. FEAR OF FALLING

If you push past the outer critics, and ignore you’re inner critic, you still have one more mountain to conquer and that hurdle has the word RISK written on it with a bold, black sharpie. When my sons first learned to ice skate they tackled the task with two unique approaches: Jeremiah, my oldest, is cautious, calculating, and slow-moving. Isaac, my six year old is impulsive, hyper, and free. When Jeremiah takes to the ice, he grabs on to the side of the rink and takes painstakingly slow baby steps like an eighty year old grandma. Isaac on the other hand, runs out on to the ice full force and falls smack dab on his face. But guess what? Both of them fall, repeatedly. Both of them get hurt. But who do you think learned to skate first? The one who gave it his all and chose not let fear rob him of his destiny. FALLING DOES NOT DISQUALIFY YOU!

“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body b ut rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming , “Wow what a ride!”

5 Stages of Grief

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:46:45 GMT

NEWS FLASH: You may not realize it but you are grieving right now. Don’t you hate when you can’t put a finger on what your are feeling? If you’re a man, you may say, “Feelings? What feelings?” But as a woman, I HATE when I can’t articulate how I feel. For the last two months, I have struggled to put into words my state, but it hit me square in the face the other night… I’M GRIEVING. WE ARE ALL GRIEVING.

Now bear with me, this is not a sappy post about getting in touch with your inner self. When a person experiences a loss, they process through THE FIVE STEPS OF GRIEVING. And guess what? A global pandemic is a loss; whether a loved one has passed away or not. There are graduation ceremonies and parties that will never transpire. Weddings and funerals that will be sparsely attended. Birthdays that will be spent alone. Baby showers that consist of Amazon boxes instead of girlfriends gathered around googling over onesies. Sports that won’t be played. Summer vacation plans thrown in the trash. School plays and concerts that won’t ever be recorded on our iPhones. And what is harder than losing all these things? The fear that we won’t just miss out on these celebrations this year but possibly next year, and dare I say it, the next? So there is sorrow. There is grief and for each of us, this grief is presented differently because we are at different stages.

DENIAL. Ok so we have all been here. If you haven’t moved past this stage, you may be living under a rock. We all lived in a state of denial for awhile regarding COVID-19.

“Oh, it’s just the flu.”

“Only really sick people get it.”

“It’s halfway across the world. Why worry?”

Most of us quickly moved on to the next stage.

2. ANGER. I dare to say, 75% of people are at this stage, or at least most of my Facebook friends. :) Now, don’t get me wrong. There are things to be angry about. We have legitimate reasons to be upset. The Bible actually commands us to be angry! Say what?

“BE ANGRY…yet do not sin.” ~Ephesians 4:26

I think we fall into trouble when we start to take the justified anger we feel and hurl it towards someone else. There is a human need for a scapegoat. We all tend to lean this way. It’s the president’s fault. It’s China’s fault. It’s the governor’s fault. And the list goes on and on. That is what is so maddening about this virus, it’s invisible and there is no dang person to blame.

3. BARGAINING. The normal reaction to a feeling of helplessness is often a need to regain control through a series of “If only” statements.

“If only…the President would have closed down the country sooner.”

“If only…I hadn’t traveled out of country.”

“If only…people would stay in their homes and wear a mask and then all of this would be over!”

Been there. Done that. Bought the “If only…” T-shirt.

4. DEPRESSION. Maybe you are here. This is currently where I am at. I’m not angry. I’m not trying to fix it or blame someone. I’m just sad. But what I love about God is that he actually promises to draw near to those who are brokenhearted.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; He saves the contrite in spirit.” ~Psalm 34:18

This Psalm was a song David wrote when he was hiding in a cave from his enemies. In an essence, David was “sheltering in place”. In that damp, dark cave, David was found vulnerable and hiding but God heard his cry and was closer than his next breath. It’s ok to stay at this stage for awhile. Brokenness really is a beautiful thing!

5. ACCEPTANCE. If you have made it to this stage, you’re a rockstar. This is a huge pill to swallow. First off, because we aren’t sure what we are accepting. We have no clue what our jobs will look like next year. We worry what our children’s education will look like next fall. So much of our future is ambiguous. So how do we just accept it? Here is a little secret. It's a nine letter word that changes everything…

S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R

Spiritual surrender is defined as giving up your will and plans. It means chucking your list for the future in the garbage and walking away. But as you walk away, with a lump in your throat, you look up to heaven and muster the words, “You’re in charge now”. My prayer through this trial is that we may all come to this place.

“He is no fool who GIVES what he can not keep, to GAIN what he can not lose.” - Jim Elliot

3-2-1 Fly!

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:43:13 GMT

Do you want to know what I’m thankful for? I’m grateful iPhones and social media did not exist when I was young. I performed far too many brainless activities that would have been recorded and still floating around the internet for the world to see.

One of those foolish ideas went something like this:

1. Go to an amusement park with my college friends.

2. Strap myself into a contraption that resembles a straightjacket.

3. Attached to a cable, willfully allow myself to be raised 300 ft in the air, dangling like

an old sneaker from a telephone wire.

4. Over a megaphone the attendant yells four words that still haunt me in my

dreams: “3-2-1 FLY!”

5. At this cue, pull a ripcord and fall to my death.

6. Moments before hitting the ground, the cord catches and I swing

like a pendulum through the air sobbing like a baby.

7. When my feet hit solid ground, I run to my friends exclaiming, “Woohoo! What a ride!”

This is the perfect picture of faith.

Faith is irrational.

Faith is uncalculated.

Faith is messy.

Faith makes you want to throw up and scream “Woohoo” simultaneously.

Faith is risky business.

There is a verse in the Bible that makes me cringe. Hebrews 11:6 states,

“It is IMPOSSIBLE to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him.”

We all want to be used by God but no one wants to step out in faith. Yet this verse reminds us that FAITH and ACTION are like a two-sided coin. A quarter with Washington’s face erased from the front, would be null and void. It would have no value and should be thrown in the trash. It is the same with faith. What we BELIEVE bleeds into all we DO. Likewise, our actions convey to the world what we believe.

Here is the dilemma. It’s easier to live a safe life, only attempting to do things we know we are capable of. My husband says, “Being capable is our greatest curse!”

I’m capable of working a nine-to-five job and earning a reasonable living. I’m capable of being a halfway decent spouse, parent, and citizen. But when we are capable, we don’t really need God and we never step out in faith. And you know what else? Life gets really BORING!

You might be thinking, I wish I could be brave like you, Jess.

Let me set the record straight! When I step out in faith I do not feel brave. Not one bit. I feel queasy. I feel like I have lost my mind. I doubt if God really told me to do what I’m attempting to do. But the one thing I don’t do…turn back. I take one petrified baby step after another because all I want to do is please my Father. The best part? An attendant was strapped in beside me because I was so terrified. I knew I would never pull the ripcord. He pulled it for me when I was dangling 300 ft in the air. He did all the work. I just had the pleasure of going along for the ride.

“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “Wow what a ride!”

Aldi's Christianity

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:39:02 GMT

When it comes to grocery shopping, I’m all about saving money. I LOVE Aldi’s. I never complain about scrounging the car in search of a quarter for my cart or bagging my own groceries because after each trip, I can scan the receipt and see all the money I have saved. But there is one thing about Aldi’s you have to anticipate; you must be willing to buy generic brands. I don’t need my peanut butter to be labeled JIF, or my crackers to be Ritz. As long as they taste good, I will eat an entire sleeve of Oreo’s whether they are the originals or the knock-off brand! But I’m afraid as Christians, we have settled for GENERIC CHRISTIANITY. We all go to Aldi’s because the prices are cheaper, but we wander into the aisles of generic Christianity when we believe the cost of discipleship is too high. Think about it! When Jesus walked the earth, he was radical. Every message He preached required his followers to pay a HIGH PRICE. He said, “Whoever desires to find their lives, need to lose their lives first.” He implored us to emulate Him in his death by “picking up our cross and following Him.” He required his disciples to give up their occupations, sell all they had, and leave their loved ones, and on one occasion He demanded this in the middle a family’s funeral. No, Jesus wasn’t peddling generic Christianity but that seems to be what most of us are buying.

So, what is generic Christianity? Generic Christianity is choosing to be nice, polite, and kind rather than being obedient to God’s Word and the Holy Spirit. None of these qualities are bad in and of themselves. Jesus desires us to exemplify the fruits of the Spirit in our lives. But the problem arises when we substitute these traits in place of obedience. God doesn’t desire for all of us to be a glorified version of Mr. Rogers. Jesus led by example in that he was constantly reiterating that He would only do what He saw His Father doing. But that obedience led Jesus to walk through a lot of pain and suffering, that obedience led Him to Calgary. Who wants to sign up?

Some of you may say, “I’ve never had Jesus ask me to do something hard.” Well my response to that is, He has and just maybe you aren’t listening. Even if you struggle to hear God’s voice, we can look to the Word and see over and over again some of the commands God has given each one of us:

“Therefore GO and MAKE DISCIPLES of all nations.” (Matt 28:19)

2. “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after ORPHANS and WIDOWS in their distress.” (James 1:27)

3. “LOVE your ENEMIES, do GOOD to those who hate you, BLESS those who curse you, PRAY for those who mistreat you.” (Luke 6:27-28)

4. “Only ask, and I will give you the NATIONS as your inheritance…” (Psalm 2:8)

So, just looking at that short list of four commands, take a minute and evaluate your life:

How many people are you discipling? Not being friendly too. Not having coffee with. I didn’t ask how many small groups you are a part of. Who are you actually sitting down with and walking through the Word and teaching them how to apply it practically to their lives? Anyone?

How many orphans or widows are you caring for? Generic Christianity may give to the food banks on the holidays or donate clothes to Salvation Army. But that is the knock-off version of what God commanded. He said, “CARE FOR”, that means day in, and day out, we are taking care of the people that have NO ONE ELSE TO TAKE CARE OF THEM.

Think of the one person you despise the most right now? Maybe they have offended you or they have vehemently spread rumors about you. Maybe they hurt you or someone in you love so bad you feel you can never forgive them. So, how have you been loving them this week? What have you done practically this week for their good? Hmmmm….I have a feeling we all come up short on this one!

Finally, when is the last time you’ve asked God for a NATION? Say what? How crazy is this. I’m praying for God to provide the money to pay my overdue electric bill while He is commanding me to pray and ask for entire nations to come to Christ. Our vision is so narrow. Jesus wants to expand our horizons but guess what, it will cost us! But in the end, I can’t think of a greater cause to spend my life on!

The Whirlwind

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:34:57 GMT

Some days I feel on top of the world; like I could run a hundred miles or win the million as the next American Ninja Warrior. Other days, I want to crawl into a hole and die. And it’s ok to have both kinds of days. I GIVE YOU PERMISSION!

Today was a typical Sunday but everything was a little more challenging than our normal chaos. I took my five kids to the park and within minutes my autistic daughter Mara was butt naked in the grass peeing, Emma was throwing a fit because she fell off the monkey bars, Isaac was on the tippy top of the swing set, all the while Jake was happily playing in the nearby drainage ditch. Some instances like this one are glaring reminders of the limits and constraints on my life. I kept thinking, “We can’t even last two minutes at a freakin’ playground.” It took me nearly 25 minutes to catch them all and get them in our vehicle and I returned home feeling absolutely defeated.

It’s not really about the park incident, or my daughter discovering scissors and chopping her own hair off later that night. It’s the lack of control I have over my own reality that always kicks me in the gut. Will I ever even be able to pursue the things God has placed on my heart? Will I ever be able to work outside the home or become a teacher? Is it humanly possible with the challenges my family faces?

I believe life is about 10% within our power to control and 90% wildly out of our control. Maybe your life doesn’t feel half as crazy as mine, but I still think those percentages hold true. We just build elaborate facades to convince ourselves and others we are in control. We really aren’t!

Yet there is a God who spins the world on the tip of his finger.

He can make order out of your chaos.

He can reveal purpose in your mess.

And this is where SURRENDER comes into play. If I spend all my days controlling my circumstances and the people around me, then I’ll be guaranteed a safe, happy life.

Let me know how that works out for you! It won’t!

Life will throw you a curveball that will smack you right in the back of the head. So stop trying to control it. Learn to surrender. He doesn’t promise a perfect or easy life but He does promise to shine His glory in the midst of your madness.

Diamonds in the Rough

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:25:24 GMT

Life is unfair. Some days all of the blessings I know I should be grateful for fade away and all I can see are the gaping holes in my life. I have TWO, YES TWO CHILDREN WITH SEVERE AUTISM. Not the kind of autism where your child is awkward in social settings or the kid who loves to talk about Thomas the train. No, I’m talking the other end of the spectrum. The kids that are often hidden away in tiny classrooms or behind locked doors. The autism where bus windows are shattered and screaming is a common place. The autism where few meaningful words are exchanged and repetition of their favorite movie lines is a staple in your home. It’s the kind of autism you don’t wish on your worst enemy, yet two of most precious treasures have had to struggle with this demon since day one.

L ately though, God has been asking me to find the diamonds in the rough. An uncut diamond can be overlooked at best or at worse, be tossed aside and considered trash. Sometimes the positive qualities of the ones we love are hidden under a harsh or unremarkable surface. Yet today, I am reminded of so many of their beautiful glimmers and facets:

1. They posses an INNOCENCE THAT WILL NEVER FADE. My children will never have a rebellious phase. I will never have to wonder if they’re lying because by nature, they can’t lie. I will never need to check their phones for inappropriate web searches. I will never toss and turn at night wondering what they are doing and why they are not home. No, their innocence will remain as the years continue to roll by.

2. They will always be OBLIVIOUS TO PEER PRESSURE. They will never be ridden with anxiety in attempts to fit in. My daughter will not spend one day of her life stressing about her body image, makeup, or clothing. They will continue to be their unique selves while their peers replicate into carbon copies.

3. They will NEVER BE EMBARRASSED OF ME. This glimmer brings me the most joy! Day-after-day they will coming busting out of school at the end of the day and run into my arms. They will always be proud to call me Mom and I’m pretty darn proud to call them mine!

Bad Boys and My Active Pursuit

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:20:50 GMT

Back in the day, television was wholesome, edifying, and laced with moral values. Sesame Street. Mr. Rogers. Different Strokes. Full House. And my favorite? COPS! Cops was a reality TV show that followed law enforcement officers from various regions set to the popular song:

“Bad boys, bad boys, what ya gonna do? What ya gonna do when they’re coming for you?”

My favorite episodes were the car chases involving the hot pursuit of suspects. Vehicles would weave in and out of traffic, enter the wrong lane, and plow off-road to avoid being caught. The best part? When the criminal’s car was totaled and the chase continued a foot. The officer would yell to his partner, “active pursuit” and try to outrun the suspect while awaiting backup. Now that was good, educational entertainment! ;)

As a driven individual, every season of my life has had an “active pursuit.” I’ve chased after degrees, jobs, athletic accomplishments, ministry opportunities, social causes, book contracts, and the like. Yet last week, as I sat in the grass and admired my kids playing tag in the park, I felt God whisper to my heart:

“You have spent your life chasing after so many things. But there is one pursuit you have neglected - the PURSUIT OF PEACE.”

In my defense, pursuing peace while raising autistic children is like trying to find a needle in a haystack…blindfolded, spun around fifty times, with your hands tied behind your back. Yet I’m reminded of the Bible story in Mark when Jesus was sleeping in a boat with his disciples in the middle of a giant storm. The boat was filled with water, they were all about to die, and Jesus was found napping peacefully.

There is no storm that rattles Him.

No chaos to loud that peace can’t be found.

I used to think that peace was something that was granted. All it took was shaking a neighbor’s hand at mass and repeating, “Peace be with you”. Or maybe if I prayed hard enough, magical fairy dust would fall from the sky and a stressful situation would suddenly become calm. Yet the dust never fell and my chaos kept growing.

But what if peace isn’t something that can be granted or found? What if peace must be FIERCELY PURSUED.

“ Whoever desires to love life and see good days…let him turn away from evil and do good; let him SEEK peace and PURSUE it. ” ~ 1 Peter 3:10-11

The word “seek” in Greek actually means to search for something that has been lost. Yep. That’s it right there. I HAVE LOST MY PEACE. Maybe you have too?

Take one look at the world around us, the news, the protests, the election, COVID, remote learning; they all scream conflict and unrest. There is no peace in the world. So, if peace cannot be found outside of us, we must seek to find peace within.

The Greek word for “pursue” is defined as doing something with intense effort, to pursue a hard thing that tends to flee. In order to obtain it, it requires RELENTLESS DETERMINATION.

I realized that living a life filled with peace begins with a CHOICE. The conscious choice to relentlessly pursue it.

But how do you pursue something so abstract and etherial? To be honest, I’m not quite sure. But here are some practical things I am implementing in my life to relieve the pressure and actively chase after peace.

FEEL FREE TO SAY NO A LOT MORE!

I have said no to more people in the last week than I have in my entire life. No to dinner plans, no to crazy remote learning schedules, no to phone calls, Zoom calls, emails, and text messages. No, no, no, no! No lengthy explanations necessary.

2. LOWER THE BAR!

I’m a high achiever and I like to be productive. But guess what? During a global pandemic, it’s ok to not accomplish as much as you once did. Admit you’re stressed and then release yourself from some of your unrealistic expectations.

3. LEARN TO JUST BE.

One of the best prayers ever prayed over me went something like this:

I feel God wants to remind you of Psalm 46:10 -

“ Be still and know that I am God.”

"Actually, I feel God just wants you to “Be still and know…”

Wait, I hear him say, “ Just be still…”

Never mind, He said, “Just be.”

Why I Stopped Going to Church

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:16:54 GMT

I am no longer going to church.

That might sound surprising coming from a pastor’s wife, but it's true. People stop attending church for a wide variety of reasons. Sometimes they feel lost in the crowd and don't see real value in waking up early on a Sunday morning. INSERT SNOOZE BUTTON. Other times, they may be offended by something a pastor has said or done. (If that's the case for me, I may need marriage counseling also!)

Most of the time, the truth is our lives just get too dang busy. Between sport practices, music lessons, job responsibilities, and family functions, we are fried. We convince ourselves that all we need is a day to relax, binge-watch Netflix, forget to shower, and sit in our pjs until noon. Soon a habit is formed and church is a distant memory for many of us.

So, why am I not going to church anymore? The reality is that the last year has been a huge struggle for my autistic daughter Mara. She gets very agitated due to the loud noises and the crowd. The children's pastor at our church has gone above and beyond to try to accommodate Mara by providing a special room just for her with a one-on-one aide but it just isn't working. So, for this season I will be staying home with Mara but will be able to stream the service live on Facebook sipping coffee, unshowered in my pjs. ��

But back to you, WHAT KEEPS YOU FROM CHURCH? Most likely, it's not the irrational, wild screams of your autistic child. I'm not advocating for people to stop attending church. Actually, I want to challenge you. The Bible admonishes Christians to gather together often:

" And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near ." (Her 10:25)

If you're struggling with discouragement, instead of googling inspirational quotes to post on your Instagram account, maybe you need to surround yourself with other believers who can pray for you and encourage you.

Christ is the head of the church. We are his body. A lot of us function like a severed pinkie finger; we're flapping up and down on the pavement but getting nowhere. We feel like we are spinning our wheels, always busy but lacking purpose. That's because YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO DO THIS LIFE ALONE. YOU ARE PART OF A WHOLE. Many of us believe Jesus is real and even pray, BUT YOU WILL NEVER ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING FOR HIM ON YOUR OWN. You need a body.

I read in a medical journal that once a limb severed from the body that it only has a 6-12 hour window of time where it can be reattached. If a surgeons waits any longer than that the tissue will deteriorate and die. Don't waste any more time being separated from the people God wants you to do life with. FIND A CHURCH TO CALL YOUR OWN and you're welcome to come un-showered in your pjs to ours!

Sick of Hiding

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 04:01:30 GMT

I have been hiding for eight years…

As a child, I excelled at the game hide-and-seek. I had a knack for finding the best hiding spots, the places everyone forgets to look. On one occasion, I perched on top of the fridge for over an hour. Snickering to myself, I watched from above while my cousins scurried frantically around the house. Although, I’m not sure I should brag. The prolonged crick in my neck put a damper on my victory. You see, being good at hide-and-seek does have its downfalls. When you are an expert, like me, at hiding, no one ever finds you.

Maybe this is you. Maybe you have been hiding for years in such an elusive spot, things got dark. Maybe everyone you loved gave up, went home, and you were left alone. You shy from the limelight. You run from intimate relationships. You sugar-coat your conversations and chat about the weather. And maybe – the greatest tragedy of all – you are hiding from God the Father, the One who created you.

The problem is, if you hide long enough, you start to believe all sorts of lies:

No one cares.

I’m too far gone.

There must be something terribly wrong with me.

Like a lawyer who stacks up the evidence and sets out to defend one’s case, you persuade yourself that your life doesn’t warrant an all-out search. Time passes and all that remains is a remnant of the person you once were. Grains of sand slip through the hourglass, while regret seeps into your soul.

Congratulations, my friend. You are now an expert at hiding.

The year 2020 has been a year of hiding for us all. Just when you think the quarantine restrictions are lifting, case numbers soar and we are told to hunker down once again. But the truth is, many of us have been masters at hiding long before the pandemic. We are stowaways on a ship called Home. Our boat has sailed off into the horizon and we immerse ourselves with responsibilities on deck. We hide behind our mile-long to-do lists, our mounds of dirty laundry, and our massive insecurities. We wear busyness as our badge of honor but if we are honest, oftentimes we don’t feel our lives have significant value. We may conclude we are essential to keep our microcosm of a world running, caring for all the “tiny people” under our roof. However, we wrestle with the idea God has need of us outside of this context. We yearn for more. To make matters worse, we feel guilty we aren’t satisfied inside our four walls.

When my oldest son was a toddler, he loved to play hide-and-seek. He always hid in plain view. Behind a chair. Under the dinning room table. Peering through his chubby fingers believing he was invisible. As a good mommy, I would wander around the house calling, “Jeremiah! Jeremiah? Where are you?”

Like God when Adam hid in the Garden of Eden, I knew exactly where my son was. Eventually, time would pass, dinner would be ready, and I would raise the question God asks us:

“Where are you?”

God knows exactly where you’re hiding. God knows exactly why you’re hiding.

He doesn’t ask “Where are you?” in order to FIND YOU. He asks, “Where are you?” in order for YOU TO FIND YOURSELF.

One of my favorite quotes is by the Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard. His prayer was, “With God’s help, I shall become myself.”

This is my heartfelt prayer for you. Settle it in your mind right now:

You matter.

Stop hiding.

Your life is a gift the world has yet to ope n.

Want to Build a Snowman?

jesshurlbut@gmail.com (Jessica Hurlbut) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 03:51:01 GMT

I race to the bus, dragging my autistic daughter, praying not to be seen sporting my pjs and bedhead. I shower most days, I promise! The demands of being a mom allow for little “me time”. Mara covers her ears and shuffles her feet down the aisle.

“No school!” she stammers.

Pressing my daughter’s hips in the seat, I attempt to buckle her in. She kicks my shin and everything in me has to fight the impulse of kicking back. What kind of mom wants to kick her child? Just then, I catch a glimpse of my son sneaking out the front door, laughing as his bare feet crunch under the snow. Are you serious? Get inside now! With the door wide open, a toddler entourage follows; first Emma and then Jacob waddling toward the road while our dog runs in circles around the bus, alerting me of my escapees.

The chaos never stops! It never ends! I rally my troops into the house, lock the door, and collapse. My tears turn into sobs. My sobs morph into hyperventilating and before I know it, I am experiencing my first panic attack.

M aybe you’ve been there. The circumstances of your life may be different, but the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion coupled with complete loss of control are universal. It never stops! It never ends. This rat race we call life will wear our defenses down until we implode and all the emotions we have been stuffing come gushing out. It doesn’t matter if you are an over-worked woman who is frantic about deadlines, or a stay-at-home mom drowning in diapers. I asked God one question: Where were you today? An image flashed in my mind of Jesus building a snowman in my yard. In my time of need, you’re building a snowman?! Suddenly, truth hit my heart; GOD IS NOT MOVED BY MY MADNESS! And He is not moved by your’s either. We think we need a “hand” from God but what we really need is His REST.

In Exodus 33:14 God promises Moses:

“My presence will go with you and I will give you rest.”

REST. Isn’t that what we all need? Not a power nap. I’m talking about the weight of the world being lifted off your shoulders. WHERE GOD’S PRESENCE IS, THERE IS REST. In the Old Testament, the presence of God was OUTSIDE, displayed as a cloud above the tent of meeting. In the New Testament, the presence of God is INSIDE, and we are his chosen vessels! We don’t have to “enter into God’s presence” to find rest, we just need to ask God to reveal where He already is in the midst of our madness. God stands outside of time and the whirlwind that is your life. Jesus is fast asleep on your boat in the middle of the storm, and HE IS NOT MOVED.

May we hear the gentle whisper of the Father asking, “Do you want to build a snowman?"