Current blog post written by Becca Wellan. A devoted and caring friend who loves coffee and talking about Jesus. Oh, and did I mention she loves coffee?

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you. He will never permit the righteous to be moved.” - Psalm 55:2. 

It’s a Sunday morning, and a friend of mine asks me how I’m doing. I’m tempted to smile, say “I’m good!” and walk away. But, the word “good” tastes bitter on my lips, and I swallow it, along with all the other words I can’t say. With sincerity and compassion, he tells me I can give him an honest answer.

“Honestly...” I look out the window as though the grey sky is listening, too, as her sobs fall in droplets down the stained glass. I start sobbing, too. 

“I feel terrible.” 

He could have turned away. He could have awkwardly muttered “I’m sorry,” and turned to someone more cheerful, a conversation more comfortable. Instead, he prayed for me. Another friend prayed with us. Then he offered to help me with my practical needs so that I could get through the day. 

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you.” 

Promises like this have always been mildly abstract to me. Jesus will sustain me? How? I always pictured a wave of superhuman strength taking over my emotions, crashing through every last drop of weakness. 

But this never happened. 

Encourage
Verb | en·cour·age | To inspire with courage or hope

In a moment when I felt like my heart was being crushed by calloused hands, and I stood completely helpless, I grew courageous, by degrees, when my brothers and sisters in Christ stood with me. Amidst my great fears, I felt hope. They didn’t try to fix my situation; they didn’t talk too much. They didn’t use Jesus band-aids and Christian cliches (ex. Jesus loves you, you’ll be okay). 

But, they held me together. They listened, they prayed, they reminded me of the goodness of God. They reminded me of His power to restore lost souls and heal broken hearts. 

That day, in a hundred ways, my brothers and sisters were a source of incredible strength to me. Strength I could never have found on my own. Strength found only in speaking, hearing and believing the truths of Jesus. 

Through the Christ-like compassion of God’s people, God Himself sustained me another day.

At the heart of the gospel lies the glorious reality of friendship. Through His sacrificial death on the cross in the place of hopeless people, Jesus, a friend of sinners, brought us into a deep, immovable friendship with the creator of the galaxies (Mark 2:13-17). 

We shattered our friendship with sin. He sacrificed Himself to bring us back. 

And because He is with us now, the church is called to be God’s active, hope-filled, light-giving presence in the world. Because we are restored to friendship with Him, we are called to “bear one another's burdens” (Galatians 6:2), to “encourage one another” (1 Thessalonians 5:11) and to “be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). 

He does not promise to miraculously heal us or change our circumstances though we wait for Him to come in waves of superhuman strength. Rather, He often shows us His grace and boundless love through other believers. God’s people are God’s presence in a broken world. 

FREE Ice cream!
That is a great way to start any conversation. If you need help moving, you start off by offering free ice cream before you ask for favors. If you want people to come to your charity event, you promise them free ice cream before you say anything else. If you want someone to read a blog about self-discipline, you promise them free ice cream at the end.

Self-discipline is not one of the darlings when it comes to character traits. In a culture that grows steadily younger as we age, self-discipline feels like drudgery. Most of us can maintain some level of discipline in one or two areas for a small measure of time. "I'm dieting for 21 days, and then I get a break"No TV for a month and then binge fest 2016." When you're discussing your weekend with co-workers, no one says "I was really self-disciplined, I didn't overspend or over drink, or Netflix and yoga pants for eleven straight hours."

We like to talk about compassion, and kindness and grace and peace. We share with one another the things we accomplished for the Kingdom, the dreams and longings of things we want to do, projects we want to be a part of, and the moments we could feel the presence of the Father. We like to talk about ice cream. 

Self-discipline is like broccoli.

Genesis chapter 5 is an account of the generations from Adam to Noah. It follows a simple pattern; "When Seth had lived 105 years he fathered a son, after that son he lived 807 years and had other sons and daughters and then he died. All the days of Seth were 912 years." That’s a paraphrase, but it follows the same pattern for ten generations, except for one. 
Genesis 5:21-24 "When Enoch had lived 65 years, he fathered Methuselah. Enoch walked with God after he fathered Methuselah 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Thus, all the days of Enoch were 365 years. Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him." 

What is the difference between just "living and dying" and "walking with God?" I think I know. Broccoli. I'm sure you have seen the evidence in your own heart, so this won't come as a shock to anyone. We have a tendency just to do whatever is easiest. Maintaining a close relationship with God is not the easy thing to do. 

Every day we are bombarded with messages that tell us we are the most important thing, our desire is what is most important, and our immediate happiness is the key factor in every decision. This is slavery. To chase after desire that culminates in itself, only to have to chase something bigger and brighter next time. You think you're chasing down happiness or fulfillment, you think you're headed for your ice cream, but all you end up with is a stone cold block of ice. 

I think even we believers fall for this scheme sometimes. We want the songs that make us feel good, the sermons that inspire us to chase our dreams, and little chats that start and end with "I'm fine thanks, how are you?" But the life of the believer is frequently compared to farming. Our life is hands in the dirt, sweat on your brow, and broccoli on your plate kind of life. 

I’m not always great at it, but I’ve learned a few ways to prep and eat broccoli over the years that are quite delicious.

1. Study with fellow believers. No matter what’s going on it helps to know we are not alone.

2. Set an alarm reminder to pray. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, at first, set your alarm to a time of day you know you usually have a few minutes of free thinking and dedicate that time to pray. 

3. Set your bible on top of your phone at night. Seriously, if it’s the first thing you touch in the morning, maybe it will help you remember to crack it open and dig in.  

Self-discipline can sometimes feel like legalism. And it can be easy to talk yourself out of practical steps if you look at it that way. The funny thing is, though, the more you study, the more you pray and engage in Christian community, the more you want to. What a gracious gift to us! It’s like discovering that you really do like to exercise or eat healthy food. Even if you only give it a few minutes a day, at first, God will still hear and still help. 

We know that God saved us through Jesus. He saved us from a life of fruitless chasing after desires of the flesh to a new life bursting with the fruit of the spirit. 
Galatians 5:22-23 "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things, there is no law."

Our tree needs to be tended to with prayer and meditation and diligent study. Galatians 5:25 "If we live by the Spirit let us keep in step with the Spirit." Being prone to take the easy way and to wander away from our savior, it makes sense that by His Spirit we are called to keep in step with the Spirit. Keep walking, keep digging, keep pruning and keep at it. 

The truth is, God sees our wicked hearts, sees how we are making a mess of things just trying to get what we want, He rescues us from the mess and puts true joy in our hearts. He pulls us out of the wreckage and replaces the shadow with substance, the plastic toys for the real deal. There's your ice cream; you just have to eat your broccoli too.

-This weeks post is by Ashley Bowie, a member at Redeemer. She pours an excellent cup of coffee, and loves words the way some people love their pets, or children.

I have missed many opportunities in my lifetime due to not wanting to do something just because everyone else was doing it. Stubborn? Just a little. You'd think by now I would realize the reason that so many people are doing something is because it's fantastic. Can't tell you how much my life was changed once I got over myself and started texting. I'm beginning to wonder if Lent is a little bit like this. Do I miss out in my relationship with Jesus because I don't set aside those "40 days of Lent?" I realize not everyone observes Lent. When I was younger, it seemed as though only those in the Catholic Church observed the period between Ash Wednesday and just before Easter Sunday. Now it seems like each year with the hint of spring comes many people, no matter their faith, giving up a vice/behavior/habit for Lent. Whether it be drinking, television watching or fill-in-the-blank. Instead of setting something aside they may add something, like going to church or eating fish on a Friday. If that is what Lent is- giving something up just because that's what everyone else does then I'm not interested. But if Lent is the idea of a "season of soul-searching and repentance. A season for reflection and taking stock" then that is intriguing to me.

A few years ago for the first time, I declared "I’m giving up dessert for Lent." To be honest, I think it was more of a weight-loss plan that a practice of prayerful self-denial. I don't recall anything being different in my walk with God off or on the sweets. I do recall my husband very kindly requesting I find a different vice to give up should I ever declare to "do Lent" again. As it was that year my birthday, our anniversary, other family members birthdays all fell within that period. Made celebrating a little difficult and I haven't observed Lent since.

 If you were to observe Lent you'd be in a sense imitating the 40 days that Jesus withdrew into the wilderness to prepare for His ministry, only you would be preparing yourself for Easter. Whether you did that by avoiding certain foods that would feel like a sacrifice to you, adding to a devotional reading, fasting, praying, choosing to be wiser and more engaged with your time whatever it may be I think it comes down to a choice.

Do you choose to set something aside for a time, not out of obligation or legalism, but out of a desire to reflect or if need be to repent?  As the time of  Lent approaches, I am drawn more and more to the idea that any time spent quietly pondering or being more intentionally focused on Jesus is a time that can only benefit those choosing to do it.  Does not doing it affect His love for you?  No.  The last thing I would encourage anyone is to "do more."  He already loves you to perfection. Nothing you do or don't do can make Him love you any less nor can observing, this time, make Him love you anymore.  But what if observing Lent caused your love for Him to grow? What if it caused you to know Him a little more?  What if it allowed you to be more connected to Him because you'd spent time being purposeful about your pursuance of Him?  Worth it?  Maybe it's just me but I think with any relationship if you put in 40 days of intentional time in you would leave that season with a stronger relationship.  The cord that tethered you to one another would be strengthened. More durable and less likely to give way under the strain. 

If you choose to observe Lent this season here is a link to the “Journey to the Cross” devotional that could be used and modified by you for you to use during your family devotional time during Lent.

This week's article is by Theresa Adams, a Redeemer member, a wife & a mom, who would someday love to have her own roller skating rink & thinks getting her kids to eat kale is a major victory!

This week’s post is by Brandon Adent, a deacon at Redeemer Church. He likes music, words, and words about music.

As the crow flies, baby, well I ain’t so far from you
but since I don’t have wings I can’t get home as fast as I want to

I remember the first time I tucked into a Rory Gallagher album; I’d never heard sounds like that from a guitar. Squeaks and squawks and chirps accompanied each tone, the kinds of sounds you can only get when you’re really going for it and know exactly what you’re doing. They had an urgency and a transparency to them, an odd mix of happiness and grief, and a willingness to face and embrace both of them, wherever that took him.

This was what Rory was known for: long, intense shows (over three hours long) playing his heart out.

Rory could really play, but he could write and sing, too. Particularly in his earlier records, he had joy in his voice. You could tell he was having the time of his life.

Even with so much joy, his songs talked so much of pain. particularly a song called “Too Much Alcohol”. The story is pretty simple: his lady is driving him nuts, and he medicates with pure alcohol:

Whiskey make me drowsy
And gin can make you think
Well, a common cold can kill ya
But, my baby turned me to drink

I went down on 31st Street
To pick up a jug of alcohol

Yeah, I told the guy to put in some water
But he wouldn't put in a drop at all
One hundred per cent alcohol
Well, let me have some

This kind of thing was pretty central to the blues lifestyle. Not surprisingly, a lot of these guys didn’t live to be very old (Rory himself died at 47) and those that do aren’t in great shape in later life. They lived a hard life, some by choice, others because those were the cards they were dealt.

Some may dislike the blues, but I love them. I like to be happy, but there’s no sense in faking; sometimes, happy song just won’t do. Occasionally, the biblical thing to do would be to sing the blues.

The blues have hope at their core. The big question, though, is where we put it. Do we look for comfort in God (in Whom it's perfectly found), or do we look for it in drink, sex, money, or power which can never give us the rest for which we long?

The Hope We Have

In the case of a certain psalmist, the writer of the 137th psalm, the source of the turmoil comes not from relationship trouble, but a longing for home:

By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
we hung up our lyres.
For there our captors
required of us songs,
and our tormentors, mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

Jerusalem has been destroyed. The psalmist is being held captive in exile, and forced to sing one of the celebratory songs of the temple, and they’re just sick of it. The psalmist would rather lose the ability to make music than to sing one more happy song from Jerusalem.

How shall we sing the Lord’s song
in a foreign land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
let my right hand forget its skill!
Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
above my highest joy!

Even the happiest songs of Zion are sad.

At the same time, though, the psalmist knows they can’t forget Jerusalem, and they don’t want to. They miss those songs and the city in which they were sung, when they could sing these songs happily and with joy, as they were meant to be.

Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites
the day of Jerusalem,
how they said, “Lay it bare, lay it bare,
down to its foundations!”
O daughter of Babylon, doomed to be destroyed,
blessed shall he be who repays you
with what you have done to us!
Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones
and dashes them against the rock!

Just when we thought it wouldn’t get any darker, like Rory being willing to drink poison to numb the pain, the psalmist prays for the violent death of their oppressor’s children, and cries out for justice from the only One who can truly administer it impartially.

Being Honest

That’s pretty dark, right? What would you do if you heard someone pray that way? The more “spiritual” thing to pray for is deliverance from oppression and grace and mercy for the oppressors.

Often, that’s what we should do, but not always. The psalmist is just being honest about their feelings and desires, and they’re sick of putting on a show, both literally and figuratively.

When I’m not doing so well emotionally, I often feel that I have to put on a similar show. I have to pretend like everything is great when it’s not. I have to smile and laugh and be happy when I just want to curl up in a corner and cry.

The Bible says that sometimes a happy song just isn’t going to work. As much fun as it is to sing happy songs, there’s value in expressing sadness, too, particularly when that sadness drives you to the Savior.

I’m not saying completely remove the filter. There’s definitely a line between honesty and just spilling things, a fine line though it might be. Honesty is inviting people to see what’s troubling you, as opposed to spilling your troubles all over whether or not it’s welcomed. Spilling quickly turns to wallowing, either on one’s own or otherwise.

Look for the Light

Many blues songs “resolve” at wallowing, which is really to say they don’t resolve, at least in a way that lifts us from the mire for good. That's sort of the point, really. We hope for something better than what we have, but there seems to be no one or nothing that can save us from where we are.

However, there is hope, and the psalmist knows where to put it; in the Lord, who He is, what He's done, and what He will do.

While God waits awhile to act on the psalmist’s prayer, He does. Kingdoms rise and fall, and Edom and Babylon are no exception.

Ultimately, though, God sent his own Son to be crushed for the wickedness of the world, including sins of ours, those of Edom, and those of Babylon, so that all who trust in Him will be able in inhabit a city and world so beautiful that it makes Jerusalem look like a slum.

Even in the blues, there can be joy. Even in the blues, there is hope.

“The kids you teach this week have sinful hearts. They cannot obey God perfectly, and they need a Savior. Point kids to Jesus and help them understand that God is pleased with us because He looks at Jesus, who never sinned. Because of Christ, we can have a right relationship with God.”

As I read these sentences in preparing the Gospel Project curriculum on the 10 commandments this week for Redeemer Kids, I was stunned because culturally we don't talk about kids as sinners that much. They are sweet innocent little angel-like beings that don't really sin, they just make mistakes. The problem with that is then they only ever need behavior correction, not a Savior.  And I’m also a mom with 4 kids. I direct a kids ministry with 100 kids. I have an upfront view of sin seemingly all the time. And yet, I forget it.

The first two sentences struck me pretty profoundly because believing this as I am parenting is not my natural inclination. One of my kids threw food on the ground this morning so as not to have to finish breakfast. I did process through that the child was not “obeying” and I was frustrated, but sadly, I didn’t remember that the child needs a Savior - just as much as I do - because we do have sinful hearts. I have a sinful heart. I forget how much I need grace and then I fail to give them grace. I didn’t point that child to Jesus, who never sinned, so we can have a right relationship with God…which will, in turn, help us as mother and child have a right relationship as well.

Our number one job as parents, as primary disciple-makers, as mentors to future brothers and sisters in Christ is to help point our kids to their need for a Savior. Our kids are sinners which means the first thing we need to think they need, and the first thing we need to give them is the Savior. Rules and discipline can come, but they need to be reminded of Jesus and His grace. And guess where this will come? From you first remembering you a sinner. 

So I get to remind myself that my heart was sinful as I parented this morning because I wanted my child to obey, not for the good of learning to obey to have a right relationship with God, but because it was an inconvenience to me. I get to tell myself the Gospel - that Jesus died for my sin of selfishness and anger and took my punishment on the cross and gave me His perfect righteousness so that I can be forgiven and have a right relationship with God. Then I get to sit down with my child after school and discuss the event - this time pointing to our need for Jesus because of the sinful hearts we both have.

This blog post was written by Kati Berreth, who is the Redeemer Kids Coordinator, dedicated wife and caring mother of four. .

By Becca Wellan

Today, my dear friend came over, just to talk. Sitting on my bedroom floor, wrapped in blankets, we talked girl-talk, life-talk, Jesus-talk. Somewhere between the laughter, honest reflections on God’s grace towards us, and an intense discussion on the sugar content of yogurt… I started crying, again. 

As we were talking, a question freakishly common amongst twenty-somethings came up: what in the world am I doing with my life? 

That’s when it hit me. Even though I’ve wrestled with this question since I was a freshmen in college, I still feel judgement, shame, and confusion when people ask me about my education, what I do, and where I’m going with my life. 

I’m a college graduate with a Creative Writing degree, working a college-girl job as a nanny. I have no career goals because I haven’t found anything I’m passionate about yet (except being a nanny). When I say this, I see people look disappointed, confused. “Oh,” they say, “okay … that’s great.” Then, quick as a hummingbird, I tell them I’m “thinking” of getting my masters in teaching. Despite not really wanting to teach, anymore. But dropping the grad school comment makes me sound - and oddly, feel - like I have a direction.

I don’t. 

And, again, I feel shame creep into my mind. Subtly, at first, then in waves. 

Ya know, I know stuff. I know that Jesus died to save me. I know that I am loved by Him. I know I am forgiven. I know that in and through the work of Christ I don’t have to be ashamed, anymore. I know these earth-shattering realities can transform anyone. 

I believe these truths with all my mind. But my heart doesn’t always clue in. When it’s 2am and I can’t sleep because self-condemning thoughts plague me, or I’m talking with a friend and burst into tears because I have no “direction” in my life, I forget what I thought I knew.

Ya know, I know stuff. Yet, there are lies in my heart I believe so deeply that they drown out what I know. Subtly, at first, then in waves. I believe the lie that that my worth as a person is found in how other people view me. I believe that my worth - my ticket to feeling “okay” with my life - is found in using my degree. In having career goals. In “success.” In settling down. In white picket fences, pearl necklaces, golden retrievers and a husband. None of which I have. 

Though our world tells us we are what we do and what we have, Jesus tells us we are who He says we are, and in Him we have everything. And this changes how we view what we do, and what we have. 

So, what defines you? What do you look to to define your worth and establish your identity? 

Recently, I asked my lovely small group girls these same diagnostic questions. We’re going through Ephesians, a book that establishes the identity we have in Jesus. All our answers - some unspoken - were different. No struggler has an identical twin. But what we all have in common - including you - is this; by nature we rely on something other than God to make us feel worth something. For me, it’s having a career. I believe that if I had one, my existence would be validated and people would respect me. The truth? Even if I had this Barbie Dream Career and Ken to make me pancakes and bacon, I still wouldn’t feel fulfilled. Another monster is bound to haunt me. 

Paul writes Ephesians from a prison cell. Probably not in your five-year plan. Yet by God’s strength, he is incredibly passionate about the blessings we have through the gospel. It even changes how Paul sees his not-so-comfortable circumstances. He tells his readers of the blessing of a new identity - chosen by God, adopted into His family, fully forgiven, redeemed out of darkness, and loved so deeply by a perfect savior (Ephesians 1:3-7). Everything we are should - and by His strength, can - be colored by this reality. In other words, I am not “Becca, the girl without a direction.” No! I am “Becca, chosen by God to be His daughter, cherished beyond words, and blessed by the promise that He is always at work in my life.” 

Who are you? 

May our head-knowledge, by His power, be transformed into heart-knowledge. If you believe in Jesus, your value is fixed. On the cross Jesus paid the highest price to save you; His own life. Now you are an adopted child, completely forgiven, loved and cherished. THIS is your identity. And it doesn’t change. Ever. But it can change you, as His truth saturates your mind and your heart. 

Now go, rest in truth. Believe and live as one redeemed. It’s who you are.