Category: Handling Conflict

on • Mariela Rosario

Growing up, I was very harsh and critical of myself.

When my parents divorced, my relationship with my mom was loving but detached. Even though my mom and I talked throughout my life, it felt more like catching up with someone than a loving connection. In fact, as a teenager, I didn’t really feel that I needed or wanted a mom.

I never seemed to feel comfortable around girls, and even as an adult, I was never the girl with a long list of girlfriends. But as I got older, something in me yearned for close friends. About five years ago, my mom was without a home. Suddenly, I was faced with the real possibility of living with my mom again after being separated for over three decades.

After much contemplation and prayer, I decided that my mom could move into the granny flat we had downstairs. For the first time, I had my mom and things were different.

She started asking me questions I would never think to ask anyone. I started wondering what my life would have been like if I’d come home every day to someone who was as interested in my emotions, my day, and my thoughts as she was now.

I started learning things I didn’t know—like how to move with gentleness and patience toward your child.

I struggled with this with my own children, especially when I was so harsh and critical toward myself.

She was gentle, kind, and nurturing, and to be honest, it made me pretty uncomfortable. Most of the time, it felt like too much. I felt like she gave me too much attention, too much serving, too much love, and too much availability. I wasn’t used to that, however, I slowly let myself be vulnerable before her. It felt like God brought her into my life for a healing purpose.

And now I began to feel what it was like to be truly seen, known, and loved unconditionally, not just by God but within a relationship I didn’t even know I needed deeply.

Time with her allowed me to see her vulnerability as well. Our time together also helped her heal from the shame she felt for not being present in my life. The daughter she believed she had lost could finally see, know, and love her.

Together, we learned how to stand without shame from the past. It didn’t happen in an instant, but it did happen, and it’s still happening today.

“Fear not, you will no longer live in shame. Don’t be afraid; there is no more disgrace for you. You will no longer remember the shame of your youth.” Isaiah 54:4

Adapted from “She Speaks Fire: Battling Shame, Igniting Faith, and Claiming Purpose” with Nelson Books; Publishing February 13, 2024.

To hear more from Mariela, watch here here!

*For further reflection, listen to Isaiah 54.

  1. Isaiah 54

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on • Natasha Smith

God understands what it means to feel alone. Mark writes this about Jesus, “Then everyone deserted him and fled” (Mark 14:48–50).

It’s kind of hard to believe this verse. At first, I read it and wondered, Is Mark talking about Jesus?

The one who died for us—that Jesus?

But yes, it was Jesus who was grieving. He knew that he was about to go to the Cross.

And yet everyone deserted him.

Jesus experienced one of the deepest grief moments of his human life, and those closest to him deserted him. They abandoned him, left him, let him down, and didn’t come through.

Abandonment and desertion can crush the spirit and be traumatic experiences themselves. But this happened to Jesus; everyone deserted him.

My mom used to say, “If it happened to Jesus, we are no better than him. So it could happen to us.”

True, but thanks be to God, Jesus has already walked in all our shoes to truly understand what we feel, sense, and struggle through.

And the best part is that he knows how to help us, heal us, comfort us, and give us peace.

Further, in understanding how God understands our grief, the prophet Isaiah prophesied this of Jesus, “He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).

God, in the bodily form of Jesus, bore our sorrow, our grief, and our pain on the Cross. Not that we wouldn’t experience them, but instead he would know how to comfort us. Knowing someone knows what you are going through provides a sense of comfort all by itself.

It comforts us when we meet someone with a similar shared experience. It excites us even. I become super excited when I find out someone is creative or loves art because I am a low-key art fan. I have been since I was single digits.

And it is the same with our grief. Think about it, how relieved would you become if you met someone who had experienced—even remotely—what you have or even slightly understood your grief? Wouldn’t it make you feel less alone?

I know it would make me feel better. Well, guess what? God knows fully what you are experiencing or have experienced in the past, and he understands.

In his humanity, Jesus even wept.

Lazarus, a dear friend of Jesus’s, was sick. Jesus heard this news, and instead of going to see him, he remained where he was for a few more days. And Lazarus died.

Before leaving for Bethany, Jesus was already aware of the fact that Lazarus had died. He told his disciples that Lazarus was instead sleeping, but he would go to wake him. When Jesus arrived, Martha confronted him, saying that if he had been there, her brother would not have died.

As described by John, Jesus was “deeply troubled” (John 11:33). Then the story goes on to say, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35).

Jesus seems to embody the words of Paul, who wrote, “Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). Jesus saw their grief, and he had compassion for them. He grieved with them.

In fact, when Jesus heard about the death of John the Baptist, he also grieved. John was Jesus’s cousin. We first hear of this relationship when Jesus’s mother, Mary, went to see her cousin Elizabeth. They were both pregnant. There was already a kindred connection between Jesus and John while they were still in their mothers’ wombs.

Then this same John later prepares the way for Jesus. In the end, John becomes a martyr in the name of Jesus.

So, when Jesus hears about the death of John the Baptist, Matthew wrote, he “left in a boat to a remote area to be alone” (Matthew 14:13).

Jesus took time to grieve and honor John the Baptist.

I think as believers, we often forget this. Maybe we think about how strong and powerful God is; we think about how nothing moves God or hurts God.

I believe we forget how God became flesh and felt every single thing that happened to him. When people hear of your loss and immediately say, “I can’t imagine.” know that Jesus can imagine and knows your pain.

In the same way that people would become much more thoughtful and compassionate by trying to put themselves where you are, if we were to put ourselves in Jesus’ shoes (I know, big shoes to fill), we would have such a better perspective.

A better view. A lens of what it may have felt like while Jesus was praying in the garden. We would have a better understanding of the loving way Jesus understands us. Just as Jesus grieved, he understands that all people grieve, and he understands your grief. As he felt alone, he understands how you feel alone. He knew and he knows.

He knew one day you and I would grieve, and so God made a way for us to come to him for comfort and to obtain peace, simply through the name of Jesus.

So, no matter where you find yourself right now in your grief journey, God is asking, “Can you just sit with me?”

For further reflection, listen to Mark 14.

  1. Mark 14

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*Adapted from Can You Just Sit with Me? by Natasha Smith. ©2023 by Natasha Smith. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press. www.ivpress.com.

on • Twanna Henderson

I do not know about you, but I have discovered that being on the receiving end of forgiveness is easier than having to forgive others.

The difficulty arises most often when I am asked to extend forgiveness.

A woman badly hurt me a few years ago. She said hurtful things about me, and her words cut deeply. When I was a young girl, we used to smugly sing, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” But, boy, is that untrue!

To be honest, it took me a while to work through the betrayal and disappointment of that situation. Getting to a place of forgiveness was very difficult.

God’s grace prevents our hurts and disappointments from turning our hearts to poison.

God reminded me of Joseph in the Bible (Genesis 37–50). Joseph had lots of reasons not to extend grace. His brothers despised him, threw him in a pit, abandoned him, and sold him to Egyptians. His master wrongfully imprisoned him, and largely forgot him.

But God’s grace was extended to him, and eventually Joseph was released from prison and elevated to the position of second in command in Egypt.

Even more amazing is the forgiveness Joseph extended to his brothers when they were finally reunited.

Joseph responded to their repentance by saying, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good.” (Genesis 50:20).

Joseph did something brave: he mercifully forgave his brothers, who despised him and abandoned him to die.

Likewise, when we are hurt by the actions of others, we can draw on the grace that God has lavished on us to give to others.

Today, my heart has finally healed from my painful relationship.

Even more so, I am grateful for the chance to extend forgiveness and grace to others as our gracious Father does for us.

*For further reflection, listen to Ephesians 4.

  1. Ecclesiastes 4

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on • Toni Collier

We’ve all had that friend—

  • who had a life-threatening disease,
  • who lost a family member or
  • who has experienced abuse.

Still, she can put her faith in Jesus and use her pain to help others.

Those people know there’s a sovereign God who gives us hope when all seems lost.

“I look up to the mountains–does my help come from there? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth!” Psalm 121:1-2

How can we be women of hope?

It’s one thing to wish for a better life and another to be assured of a better life—because you’ve experienced the hope of God.

So, what does a hope-filled life look like? You can expect it to be hard in some moments. I know that’s not the best thing to read right after you’ve proclaimed hope. But I’m not here to sell you falsehoods.

When hard times come, you can also expect to endure them through a lens of hope. Remember the promise in Philippians 1:6, “And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.”

Let’s say you suffer a financial loss. Instead of allowing financial stress to consume you, take this heavy burden to the feet of Jesus, to your safe community, and to your counselor. You will find hope for those parts of you, and you will pick up your head and pursue other means for your financial needs.

If you go through a hard breakup, it’s ok to spend some days curled up in a ball, crying—but you can’t stay there. (And you probably shouldn’t call your ex.)

Instead of begging to be taken back, producing more wounds of rejection and abandonment, you will take your heartache to the Lover of your soul, your Heavenly Father, who freely offers intimacy whenever you need it. You will know that while being lonely is a real feeling, you are never, ever alone.

When despair settles in, you will remember that the closer you are to God, the closer you are to joy. When any form of darkness comes into your life, the same God who brought you out of you troubles will do it again.

He can handle your sorrow and is not afraid of your sadness.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.” Philippians 4:6

When you claim the promise of hope and allow God to strengthen your faith, you will be that woman people look at and say, “Wow, she’s got bruised knuckles and a hope she’s fought for. But, she’s fighting through all of it, with Jesus leading the way, and she ain’t giving up!”

Living in hope is not easy, but it’s so worth it.

*For further reflection, listen to Philippians 4.

  1. Philippians 4

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Please enjoy more of Toni’s heart in our interview with her by clicking here!

Adapted from Brave Enough to Be Broken by Toni Collier Copyright © 2022 by Toni Collier. Used by permission of Nelson Books.

on • Bonnie Gray

Some mornings, my inner critic wakes up with me. As I eat my breakfast, my first thoughts appear auto-populated by what I “should’ve-would’ve-could’ve” done.

Instead of songs of deliverance surrounding me like the psalmist wrote about, my mind becomes filled with a noisy parade of troubling thoughts—regrets over what I wasn’t doing well, relationships that had turned hurtful, and indecisions tearing at my soul.

Why are you obsessing about things you have no control over? I lecture myself. Stop worrying about nothing. What’s wrong with you? I beat myself up, and I haven’t even finished my first cup of coffee.

I pray and read Scripture, but my heart doesn’t feel right. One morning, I tried to forget my troubles by diving into my emails. On the outside, all was good, but being hard on myself wasn’t what I needed.

What I need when I’m stuck in negative self-talk is God’s kindness and gentleness.

The world teaches us to quiet our inner critic by striving, networking with people of influence, and working very hard to be valued, find belonging, and acceptance.

But God’s way of restoring the soul is very quiet: real experiences of beauty, gentleness, and kindness.

We need two fruits of the Spirit: gentleness and kindness.

Later in the afternoon, I drove out to my favorite trail and stood quietly by the creek, listening to water bubbling over rocks and pebbles. Without any words, I felt God’s gentle love hold my heart.

My soul exhaled, and as the sun warmed my heart again, I heard God tenderly whisper, “You are safe with me. You are important to me.”

God draws us closer, saying, “I have loved you, my people, with an everlasting love; With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself” (Jeremiah 31:3).

In a quiet place of beauty, my heart opened up. I shared my honest feelings with God—not trying to solve them but to confide in him.

Being in nature soothes us and gives us permission to slow down.

We observe how everything organic undergoes changes in different seasons, and we instinctively relax our shoulders and exhale.

As the breeze brushes our cheeks, we feel a softening. We notice how everything beautiful moves in quietness.

It was only there by the creek, only after I took the steps to enjoy something beautiful to refresh me, that my heart experienced God’s songs of deliverance.

Many times, we try to lecture ourselves out of a tough situation, but God’s gentle voice is always found in places of quiet beauty and intimacy.

Don’t be harder on yourself. Be gentle with yourself. God’s love is gentle.

*For further reflection, listen to Jeremiah 31 today.

  1. Jeremiah 31

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Excerpted with permission from Breathe by Bonnie Gray published by Harvest House Publishers, Eugene, Oregon, 97408. Copyright 2023, Bonnie Gray. harvesthousepublishers.com

*Please enjoy our conversation with Bonnie here!

on • Nona Jones

Jesus once asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

“Well,” they replied, some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say Jeremiah or one of the other prophets.” (Matthew 16:13–14).

Jesus then asked one of the simplest yet most profound questions in Scripture: “Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?” (Matthew 16:15).

The twelve disciples had spent almost every waking moment with Jesus for a couple of years at that point. They had witnessed him heal people, perform countless miracles, and teach with authority in the presence of the Pharisees and Sadducees. If anyone should’ve known who Jesus was, it should have been them, right?

They saw his power with their own eyes and heard his words with their own ears.

And yet when Peter rightly responded, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” Jesus replied, “You are blessed, Simon son of John, because my Father in heaven has revealed this to you. You did not learn this from any human being” (Matthew 16:16–17).

Here is why Jesus’s statement is so profound: The people who saw and heard Jesus identified him as John the Baptist, Elijah, or Jeremiah because they compared Jesus’s ministry and teaching to that of these men.They identified Jesus based on who he reminded them of, and we do something similar when we identify people based on who they remind us of.

We say our daughter is cheerful like Aunt Sally, or our boss is mean and gruff like our old volleyball coach. We tend to identify people based on our sensory experience—what we see, hear, touch, or smell—and how it reminds us of someone else. This is part of what makes Jesus’s question significant.

He wanted to share this truth: people’s experience of you is not who you are.

Just as Jesus wasn’t John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets, you aren’t who other people say you are.

Jesus essentially said, “I am more than what you see me do. I am more than what you hear me say. I am more than what you feel when I’m around. I am who the Father says I am—and so are you.”

*For Further Reflection, listen to Matthew 16 today.

  1. Matthew 16

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Taken from KILLING COMPARISON by Nona Jones. Copyright © September 27, 2022 by Nona Jones. Used by permission of Zondervan.com.

on • Jinger Duggar Vuolo

For me, the journey from error to truth has been a humbling experience. I had to admit that much of what I’d always believed was not just inaccurate; it was unhelpful, even harmful.

That wasn’t easy.

Maybe you, too, have been convinced for years that the only way to please God is by following specific, man-made rules from a particular teacher. God had to humble me so I could see that all my effort was not actually honoring God.

You may be in a similar situation, ready to examine your convictions and compare them to Scripture. That process is well worth it.

No matter who you are or where you come from, you need what I need—what we all need: humility.

Through this process, I’ve come to understand that humble people don’t think too much of themselves, but they also don’t think too low of themselves either. Humble people know who they are, what they are good at, and what talents they do not have.

Romans 12:3 provides a great description of a humble person: “Because of the privilege and authority God has given me, I give each of you this warning: Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us.”

Ten years ago, I don’t think I understood that. I thought I had life figured out.

I’m grateful for the humility God is working in me. He opened my eyes, as only he can, to see that I was thinking too highly of myself. He gave me undeserved grace.

As James 4:6 says, “And he gives grace generously. As the Scriptures say, ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’”

Without God’s help, it’s tough to see our pride. In fact, I’d say it’s impossible. If you and I are ever going to submit to God and his Word, we need to begin by asking for humility.

That’s a request I know God will grant.

After all, Proverbs 11:2 says, “Pride leads to disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” And I know that if I ask for wisdom, God will give it to me.

*For further reflection, listen to Romans 12 today.

  1. Romans 12

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Taken from “Becoming Free Indeed” by Jinger Duggar Vuolo. Copyright 2023 by Jinger Vuolo. Used with permission from Thomas Nelson.

*Please enjoy this interview with Jinger here.

on • Janet Paige Smith

I had just made new friends. Now it was time to move again. As a military child, my life revolved around leaving one city and starting again in another. During my elementary school years, I felt the security of attending school on the military base. But, I had to venture out for my middle and high school and mix with students who had been together since kindergarten. With their cliques already established, newcomers had a hard time fitting in.

I desperately tried to join all the “popular” groups in my urgency to belong. The athletes. The smart kids. The rowdy crowd. Yet, it wasn’t long before they discovered I was an “imposter.” I was quickly ousted and labeled some kind of misfit.

My childhood memories of being left out resurfaced. My longing to belong was strong, and I mixed in with the world until the shame of my sins was unbearable. I sought Christ’s forgiveness and chose to only belong to him.

You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. ~ Colossians 2:13

I soon discovered that my challenges as a military child prepared me, in part, for my adult life as a Christian. Once I became obedient to God’s standard of living, I was again left out. It hurt when my coworkers did not invite me to gatherings at their homes when they knew I wouldn’t party with them. At lunchtime, I hurried to my office to eat alone at my desk. No one wanted to sit with me after I didn’t join in their gossip or cursing. I even choked back tears at church after being passed over for an opportunity because I defended a fellow believer.

I have since learned that the Bible speaks of many left out, even injured and killed, because they refused to blend in with others. Even Jesus was criticized for hanging out with undesirables and sinners.

Now, as I grow stronger in my faith, I know Jesus is always with me even when people walk out of my life or leave me out.

Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close. ~ Psalm 27:10

*For deeper reflection, listen to Psalm 27.

on • Rebecca Friedlander

Life doesn’t always make sense, especially moments that hurt. It’s such a comfort to know that we have a Father in heaven who loves to restore what the enemy has stolen.

One beautiful tip for choosing healing can be found in the Book of Philemon, written by the Apostle Paul. Paul’s friend Philemon was a pastor whose runaway slave had met Paul and converted to Christianity. The former slave wanted to make things right with his former master, probably having some stolen goods, but he was afraid of being beaten if caught. So Paul penned a letter, beseeching the pastor to be kind for the sake of Christ. He also offered to help make things right.

“If he has wronged you in any way or owes you anything, charge it to me. I, Paul, write this with my own hand: I will repay it (Philemon 1:18-19a),” Paul vowed.

This short letter offers a beautiful appeal to forgiveness, and tradition says that Philemon did forgive the former slave.

One day the Lord prompted me,

What if I wrote you this letter? Suppose I came to you asking, for the sake of our friendship, that you forgive someone who wronged you?

Suddenly I realized that Paul’s letter is a picture of what Jesus asks of us. He never reasons away guilt or denies the hurt caused.

Instead, he asks us to forgive for his sake. Then he goes a step further.

If your offender owes you anything, put that on my account. I will repay.

This idea is a powerful key to the forgiveness process!

“Father,” I often pray, “I choose to forgive this person because of how You’ve shown me mercy.”

Then I take a quick inventory of what I felt “robbed” of. Was my self-worth robbed? Did I feel taken advantage of? Am I feeling the loss of a friendship? Whatever it is, I know that my Father in Heaven desires wholeness for me. With this in mind, I’ll pray,

“Lord, I put these needs on your account and ask you to meet them. You are a good Father who delights to give us good gifts!”

I can’t tell you how many times God has responded to this prayer! By shifting my expectations to focus on God whose very name is Faithful and True, I’m practicing forgiveness and creating an opportunity for Christ to restore in his way and time.

He is the faithful Father!

*For deeper reflection, listen to Philemon 1.

on • Shannon Popkin

A scandalous scene was unfolding at Simon the Pharisee’s dinner party. A prostitute had crept in and was crouched, weeping at the feet of Jesus. As her tears mingled with her emptied-out perfume, making trickles in his dirty feet, she wiped them with her hair and kissed them clean.

“If this man were a prophet,” Simon thought to himself, “he would know what kind of woman is touching him.” (Luke 7:39). Since Jesus was a prophet, he answered Simon’s thoughts with a story.

“If a man forgave two debts—one for 500 pieces of silver another for 50—which debtor would love him more?” He asked.

Jesus used this comparison story to reveal the true comparison story happening at Simon’s table.

The first debtor is the woman. She has sinned greatly, and contrary to Simon’s supposition, Jesus knows it. Yet, he sees her sin as forgiven. Here at his feet is a daughter of the kingdom, who will one day dance—forgiven and clean—on streets of gold!

But who’s the second debtor? It’s Simon. In his story, Jesus places the Pharisee and a prostitute side-by-side as two sin debtors who cannot pay. Obviously, Simon sees it differently. His condescending disgust reveals his elevated sense of superiority, as he sees himself as a judge. Yet he has misjudged both the woman and Jesus!

By offering no kiss, no foot washing, and no anointing oil, Simon has just snubbed the only One who can forgive his sin. And the woman, with her extravagant love, has rightly elevated Him.

Friend, are you lifting yourself up as a judge with your condescending disgust toward others? Or are you crouched low at Jesus’s feet—a woman who is forgiven and clean?

“Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Luke 18:14).

*For deeper reflection, listen to Luke 7.