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Sitting on the edge of my bed this afternoon I wondered, might I rejoice and grieve at the same time? Might I deeply feel a loss while also marveling at what sprouts in the soil of that loss?
These questions spring from a quick exchange with friends. Friends who are some of my dearest. Friends who moved a thousand miles away in opposite directions this summer. Friends, who for five years infused life and joy and laughter into my weary heart. Friends who, in an already hard year, felt the pull of God to other places.
We too felt the pull of God — not in moving away, but in starting over in other ways. We left our church — the church we’ve been a part of ever since we moved to Massachusetts twelve years ago as newlyweds. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to leave; I never imagined it’d be so hard.
When I have the courage to reflect on all these changes, I’m struck by the dichotomy of it all. There are no clean lines, no black and white yes and no’s. It’s beauty and ashes. Beauty turned to ashes. Beauty because of ashes.
The past few years have been hard soil tilled and turned over. Seeds of something new planted. Roots put down. Good things grown. And then, as if a harvest had come and a season ended, it was all pulled up. The soil lies empty and waiting all over again; it’s time to plant something new.
But I stand on the garden’s edge wanting only to put down my shovel. Growing good things is hard work and I’m not sure I have the courage to start from seed again.
As I tap out these words, I sip coffee from a mug gifted us by the church we’ve attended these last few months. On one side it says, “Welcome Home.” These words aren’t lost on me. We’re in a place I believe God wants us to be. We show up every week and drop more seeds in the soil. We love this church. But goodness, the ground looks awfully bare, and it feels nothing like home.
It’s beauty and ashes. It’s trusting seeds will grow in the soil of obedience. It’s thanking God for all the good that was and trusting there is more good ahead that I can’t yet see. It’s believing we will find our place and again be as much at home as we are ever meant to be this side of heaven.
So, I grieve over what was. And I rejoice over what I trust will be. Both, together. Beauty and ashes. Beauty from ashes.
I decided to start sharing my monthly Seedling Society Newsletter here rather than exclusively through email. Enjoy!
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A special guest post by Christa Threlfall
For years, my husband and I had this running joke: Winter would come to our sunny home in the south, and I would say (through chattering teeth),
“Goodness, it’s cold! I sure hope the Lord never wants us to move up north.”
Upon hearing this, Jonathan would immediately pretend he was getting a call on his phone from a church asking us to move up to Canada.
Fast Forward to June 2018
There we sat at our kitchen table, with 3 people across from us. These 3 individuals were visiting us to see if Jonathan seemed like a potential candidate to pastor their church. After we ate lunch together, they gave us a gift from their state. There, at the top of the bottle in large green letters were the fateful words: “New Hampshire Maple Syrup.” New Hampshire!
The reality of the words and the meaning behind them filled me with genuine fear so that I began crying—right then and there—after opening up the very thoughtful, generous gift. I was afraid. What if God led us to a place where I didn’t want to go?
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Three Months Later
On October 2, 2018, my four kids and I piled into our van (along with several houseplants semi- securely fastened in the passenger seat next to me) and began the 12-hour drive up to our new home in Concord, New Hampshire. I have vivid memories of looking at a map of the United States and being shocked at how far north we actually lived. After years of my husband joking that we were moving to Canada, we now live in a state that borders Canada.
What Happens When God Leads You Where You Don’t Want to Go?
Moving to a different part of the country is a relatively minor thing compared with other places God will lead. Maybe he’s led you to say goodbye to your spouse, face unprecedented financial hardship, or suffer extreme physical pain. Some of you face difficulties that are so personal that they’re almost impossible to share. My friend, maybe God has led you to a place you didn’t want to go in order to teach you things you would never otherwise learn. There are precious truths God has taught me during this season that I wouldn’t have learned if he had never led me to a place I didn’t want to go.
Here are three treasures you will discover when you follow God’s will instead of your own:
The Joy of Obedient Surrender
Obedience is easy when it lines up with your plans. If I tell my kids to come downstairs to watch a movie, they’ll happily obey because that’s something they want to do anyway. Obedience is tested when your will is crossed and your obedience means surrender. And yet, the Christian life is supposed to be a life of surrender, isn’t it?
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).
“Present your bodies as a living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1).
When a command doesn’t align with your desires, you have an opportunity to prove the depth of your allegiance to the Commander, rather than to your own preferences. Who are you devoted to? Yourself or God?
Obedience only brings joy when the person you’re obeying is working for your good. God assures us that he’s always at work for our good and his glory (Romans 8:28), so we can always trust him. But obedience is only joyful when you obey with your whole self—body, mind, and soul. It is possible for someone to go through the motions of what God wants them to do, and yet be 100% miserable.
I’ve met many people like this, haven’t you? They may have technically obeyed—moved where God wanted them to be, accepted a particular job, said no to a specific opportunity, etc.—but they never surrendered. When you fully surrender, you will allow God to have control over every part of your being: body, soul, mind, and emotions. Surrender is not a matter of putting your body in the place where God wants it, but of yielding your entire self to God. Only then is joy possible. Obedience only brings joy when it is accompanied by complete yielding to the will of your Maker.
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A Deepened Trust
I love to have lots of support systems around me—people I can rely on, strong immune system, financial emergency fund, etc. But when God leads you to a place you don’t want to go, he often requires you to say goodbye to external support systems and depend fully on him. This is incredibly uncomfortable and often makes me feel like I’m drowning. But every time God removes external supports from my life, I find myself clinging to him in a deeper, more desperate way, wondering at how easily I put my hope in temporal things rather than eternal.
When you have to fully depend on someone, you discover just how strong they really are. In God’s case, there is no one stronger or more dependable.
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God” (Psalm 20:7).
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The Truth that God is Better
When God leads you away from something you were convinced you wanted—something you thought was the best possible thing for you—then you have some difficult questions to answer:
Who knows best? You or God?
Is God’s way always the right way?
Is God’s will really better than your desires?
These are difficult questions that should be answered slowly, honestly, and prayerfully.
But if you obey God’s leading, you will discover that he knows best and his will is best. Not only that, you’ll discover that he is better—better than your preferences, desires, and the life you were convinced you wanted. Better than anything. Your trust in him will grow deeper and your relationship with him will be characterized by loving, obedient trust rather than a heartless adherence to rules. There is nothing more precious. When you say no to something you really want in order to say yes to something God wants for you, then in time you will see the goodness of God so vibrantly that you may wonder why you ever desired those other things in the first place.
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It’s been 1 1/2 years since my family moved to New Hampshire. God has used this move to teach me the joy of obedient surrender, the beauty of deep trust in his good leading, and the truth that he is better than anything I ever wanted. I can honestly say it now: God led me to a place I never wanted to go, but now there’s no place I’d rather be.
Meet the Author
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Christa Threlfall is a pastor’s wife, mother of four, and author.
She enjoys reading, writing, and being active outdoors in the great state of New Hampshire. You can read her blog or follow her on Instagram.
She is the author of Come to Jesus
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Hello all, last month I had the opportunity to share an article on Deeply Rooted Magazine and wanted to link to it here so you can read it as well.
How very thankful I am for those who loved me well as a teen and the impact those relationships continue to have on my life today. With that in mind, I wrote about some of the practical ways I was discipled — and how we can disciple the teens in our lives as well. I hope it’s an encouragement.
I doubt many of these women even realized they were discipling me. But by making time for me to be with them, I learned truths about Christian womanhood that I still carry with me today. One of the best ways you can disciple the teen girl in your life is simply by inviting her into your every day.
Read the full article here
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Hello, Book Club friends. First of all, I’m sorry I missed a post on section three — I overestimated my writing margin for the busy summer months and I apologize for that. I want to wrap this up with some final thoughts on the book and share with you one of my biggest takeaways overall. And as always, I’d love to hear your final thoughts and takeaways in the comments as well!
It’s Okay to Focus Most on What Matters Most
One of my biggest struggles as an introverted mom is simply this: overwhelm. With two young kids, a home to manage, a marriage to nurture, a soul to tend, and a myriad of outside demands, I feel like I’m drowning more often than not.
What I appreciate about the message of this book is the freedom it offers to accept my own boundaries and limitations without guilt or comparison. No, I can’t do as much as some people or handle as much noise, busyness, or stress — and that’s okay.
What matters most is that I focus my time and attention on what matters most. For me right now, that’s my marriage and family.
Our family is the closest we get to the eternal this side of heaven.
Jamie C. Martin
Saying No So I Can Say Yes
Not all opportunities have to be grasped now or lost forever. They come in and out like the tide, returning when we’re ready, if only we have the courage to toss them back in faith when the timing isn’t right.
Jamie C. Martin
I struggle with believing I need to do everything right now or I’ll get behind and miss out. But when I try to do/be too many things at once, I inevitably get stressed out and give my family the worst of myself rather than the best.
Martin’s words encourage me to step back and really evaluate what matters both in the big picture and in this moment. I’ll never get this time with my kids back, so what do I need to say no to for now in order to give my family my very best?
In a typical four-season climate, no tree produces fruit year-round. Different months serve different purposes, all of them contributing to the final harvest, even when it isn’t obvious.
. . .
Can we honor our personal seasons of rest, of beauty, of letting go, as much as we do those of productivity? Let’s dare to define the good life for ourselves instead of swallowing the watered-down definition our world tries to convince us matters most.
Jamie C. Martin
In Conclusion
Thank you to everyone who read along and shared your thoughts. I really enjoyed reading this book together and I’m walking away with lots to process going forward. I hope you were encouraged in some way too. May you enjoy the rest of your summer and the days ahead!
Sincerely,
Kari >3
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Our summer turned to dust. And in a year marked by words like pandemic and quarantine and recession, even a lack of rain can grow in your mind to a plague of Biblical proportions.
Our grass is crisp and brown. The only green thing that thrives is our garden—helped along with regular watering. We talk about the well, if it will run dry. We watch the sky and check the weather and hope with every cloud for drops of reprieve.
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And finally, those drops come. In thunderclaps and lightening, sheets of life fall to us. The kids pull on rain boots and splash through puddles. We fall asleep to the sound of rain against the roof. Hope in a year of plague. Rain in a time when you notice more than ever the drops that don’t fall.
Seasons turn to dust. And then rain comes. And with the rain, what seems dry and dead, comes to life again. A lesson for the garden and a lesson for my heart.
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And this lesson too: Sometimes it’s the very absence of a thing that teaches us to notice. How easy it is to forget. If this year teaches me anything, it’s to notice and remember, to not take for granted.
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What I want to remember about these days: The home where my husband grew up. The fields and brook he knew as a boy — where our children now love to explore. The way the field is alive — with the sound of insects and birds and cows. The way it smells — the tall grass and wildflowers, the sand and mud — all of it.
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The relics of a family business — a life dedicated to the land and the creatures that serve it.
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The frog collecting and dam building. The rope swinging and bike riding. The smiles and giggles of little ones — of cousins who are friends. So many little ones underfoot and out of doors and growing like the weeds in the field — how quickly they grow and change. How quickly it all changes.
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The gentle flowers in a hard land. The flowers that bloom –though in winter you’re sure they never can or will.
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I want to remember the view — the dirt road and mountain peaks. One of the places where I fell in love with my husband — where we dreamt together of the story we’re now telling. Of him walking hand-in-hand with our daughter down this same dirt road. Of watching our children grow up in the shadow of ourselves, in the shadow of our story and dreams.
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These are the things I want to remember about our 4th of July weekend in Maine — when we were young and they were young and there were many chapters yet to be written in our story.
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Hello, Book Club friends 🙂 Here are a few quick thoughts on section two (chapters 4-6). I’m looking forward to hearing your takeaways as well so please share in the comments!
Pruning Hurts & Helps
My husband loves a good challenge. He’s positive and confident and hard things seem to do nothing but energize him. Me? Not so much. I’d like life to be smooth sailing and endless success; no hard stuff in between, please.
But I know the hardest stuff is often the most helpful too. I grow and change the most when I’m stretched and tried.
As an introvert, I think it’s easy to use personality as an excuse sometimes. I’m tempted to excuse myself from situations or activities because I find them stressful or overwhelming. And while it’s sometimes fine to say no, personality shouldn’t serve as a free pass all the time. Martin says it this way:
When we understand ourselves as introverted women, we can respect and value how God made us, and we can push beyond our natural boundaries when he calls.
Jamie C. Martin
I can think of several instances when pushing through my own fear and anxiety led to tremendous blessing. The other day, one of my closest friends and I recounted how we first met– and marveled at how out of character it was for me.
She had just moved to the area. I really wanted to get to know her but I’m not exactly the type who walks up to people I don’t know and starts chatting. But that day, that’s exactly what I felt compelled to do. I walked across a crowded room, introduced myself, small-talked, and invited her family of six over for Thanksgiving dinner. Now she’s one of my best friends and I’m amazed by what grew from that first out-of-my-comfort-zone conversation.
Since then, I’ve learned to open up my heart and home to others as well. We’ve had missionaries (complete strangers!) stay in our home, hosted ladies’ get-togethers, and had lots of family and friends share meals around our table. All of this stresses and wear me out. It’s doesn’t come naturally or easily to me at all. But it’s truly so rewarding and I know God has used it to grow and change me over the years.
Understanding our introversion, therefore, doesn’t mean we attempt to avoid challenges, but that we recognize challenges ahead of time and come up with a plan for how to handle them.
Jamie C. Martin
Balancing Stress with Rest
As I learn to push past weakness, I’m also learning to balance stressful seasons and situations with rest. Yes, sometimes God calls me to do something beyond my comfort or ability. But I truly believe we need to allow for rest and refreshment in between trying times to avoid burnout.
In closing, I loved this quote:
I’m not a bit changed–not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real me–back here–is just the same.
L.M. Montgomery // Anne of Green Gables
God isn’t asking us to completely change who we are or who he created us to be. But he will sometimes ask us to face stress and challenges in order to grow and refine us into the women he wants us to be. May we balance the two with grace.
What are your biggest takeaways?
I’ll see you here in a couple weeks as we discuss Section Three (ch. 7-9).
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I am both a homemaker and a homeschooler. So, as you might imagine, most of my time and energy is spent between the same four walls with the same three people. And while I love both my home and the people in it, there are plenty of hard moments and days.
On the hard days, doubt creeps in. Do I really belong here? Am I doing what’s best? Maybe I should send the kids to school and go back to work. Why did I imagine I could do this? Clearly, I’m not made from the same stuff as the mom who thrives at home and home education.
Read the full post at From the Ravens
the wheat princess