All is Well

Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well ~ John Greenleaf Whittier

Living in the Yet

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Have you ever found yourself captivated by a single word? Or is that just me? Surely I’m not the only one who gets a little nerdy about words—landing on one and getting completely caught up in its meaning, its usage, and what it stirs in me. Sometimes I have to sit with it for a while… and, of course, write about it.

Today during our worship service at Seaford Baptist Church, the passage our pastor preached from was Habakkuk 3:17-19; a passage that has been very important to me over the years:

Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer’s;
he makes me tread on my high places.1

The first time I really remember paying attention to this passage was in 2009—or around then—during a mission trip to Kenya. I had been asked to share a message on this scripture with a group of widows in the area where we were serving. These women had next to nothing. Their children’s survival depended on whatever crops they could grow and harvest, and whatever livestock they had access to, and the constant battle against famine and drought. In those brief moments I had to share God’s word with them, I was completely astounded by their reaction. It was pure joy. Absolute reliance on their God. They responded with shouts of praise and (brace yourself, my Baptist friends!) dancing at the reading of God’s word.

During this same period while I was in Kenya, events were unfolding back home in Virginia—completely unknown to me—that would soon shatter our world. My ex-husband, a youth minister, was beginning to face credible accusations of sexual abuse, allegations that would ultimately lead to his imprisonment.

As we – my four kids and I – entered into this dark, terrifying time, I found myself often looking back at my time in Kenya; and more specifically, my time with that small group of widows. I have always struggled with doubt, and here I was again – I was certain I would never know joy again. I was certain that my faith was not strong enough, to withstand this nightmare.

Yet.

Yet is such a small word. Three letters. It even sounds funny. Yet. Yet this….Yet that….

An adverb often used as a conjunction connecting contrasting ideas.

And that’s the key to yet—this small word is a powerful connector between contrasting ideas. Ideas that, in our limited human understanding, don’t seem like they should go together. Concepts that, without God’s providence, wouldn’t make sense side by side.

Take the passage from Habakkuk 3 as an example. In these verses, we see Habakkuk, who has consistently laid his complaints before our God, voice a shift from despair to hope.

After listing a series of devastating losses—no figs on the tree, no fruit on the vines, failed crops, and empty stalls—the prophet uses “yet” to introduce a contrasting response: “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.” This small word bridges the gap between circumstances and faith, emphasizing that despite overwhelming external ruin, Habakkuk chooses to trust and find joy in God. “Yet” signals a deliberate act of defiance against hopelessness, highlighting the prophet’s unwavering faith and determination to rejoice and rely on God’s strength no matter the situation.

In those dark, dark days after our Kenya trip—during my ex-husband’s arrest and in the difficult years that followed—how many times did I cling, white-knuckled, to that one word: Yet? It became a lifeline, a way to preach truth to my own soul when I didn’t feel like hoping. When I couldn’t see or sense the other side of the Yet, it still reminded me—especially when my mind was a mess and full of doubts—that God is who He says He is.

He is sovereign. I am not.
He sees and knows. I do not.
He loves me perfectly and works for my good; while I love him so imperfectly and with a rebellious heart I sin against his very goodness and holiness.

Scripture is full of these yet moments—those turning points where despair gives way to hope, all pivoting on that small but powerful word. They remind us to trust, even when we can’t see, don’t understand, or don’t feel anything at all. Over time, I’ve come to see these Yet passages as a kind of spiritual discipline: an honest acknowledgment of how things look right now, yet a deliberate choice to stand—sometimes on shaky faith—believing anyway. Not because I’m strong enough to muster up faith on my own, but because my Father God is the one who gives me the faith to stand in the first place.

I want to be aware of the Yet. I want to quietly sit in the Yet and find peace there, rather than my default response of “Why, God?” and “Are you truly trustworthy?”

Even now. Even today. Even in this very moment of uncertainty and fear of the unknown.

I want to say from the depths of my soul….yet I will trust Him.

Yet I will rejoice in my Savior.

Dear reader – here are a few of the yet passages that I find myself drawn to, and that I hope you will tuck away in your heart for those moments when you are in the in-between of despair and hope:

Suffering — Yet Trust:
Job 13:15 – Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him;
yet I will argue my ways to his face.2

Weakness — Yet God Sustains
Psalm 73:26 – My flesh and my heart may fail,
yet God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.3

Afflicted — Yet Not Defeated
2 Corinthians 4:8-9 – But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;4

Deep Lament & Grief – Yet I Remember God’s Great Love
Lamentations 3:19-24 – Remember my affliction and my wanderings,
the wormwood and the gall!
My soul continually remembers it
and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”5

Humanity in Sin — Yet God’s Sacrificial Love & Salvation
Romans 5:6-8 – For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.6


  1. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Hab 3:17–19). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎
  2. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Job 13:15). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎
  3. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Ps 73:26). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎
  4. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (2 Co 4:7–9). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎
  5. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (La 3:19–24). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎
  6. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Ro 5:6–8). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎

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All I Have Needed…

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I turned the page on another year this past Friday.

The years seem to be moving faster and faster as they climb higher. I find myself far more keenly aware of the passing of time today, than ever before that I recall in my life.

We spent my birthday together, my husband and I, exploring South Dakota. Neither of us had ever been, though it has been on our travel list for years.

It was nothing short of wonderful. Breathtaking. Stunning.

We visited many places – Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial, Wind Cave, Jewel Cave, and Badlands National Park. I thoroughly enjoyed each place – the history, the geography, the uniqueness.

But it is Badlands National Park that gripped my soul.

From one of the highest overlooks in the park, I could see forever. The expansive sky above me stretched far into the distance. Being able to see the sky always settles me – being able to see the sky for miles and miles helps me to feel small, in a good way. I can breathe. I can exhale a prayer of pain and grief, while breathing in a prayer of gratitude for God’s sovereignty and faithfulness.

I’m so glad our God created the sky. I truly believe it is a foretaste – a sample – of the brilliance we will see when God calls us home. A new earth. A new heaven. A new sky. All of which glorify God.

We decided to enter the park as evening fell, to catch the sunlight. We had read that sunsets are stunning in the badlands, because the fading light and shadows cast bring out the colors in the rock formations.

It is true. They do. O, my soul – what a sunset.

While my guy was taking photos (he just upgraded to a new lens), I found a quiet ledge to sit on, with my feet dangling over the vast crevices and canyons. As I sat there, I had the very keen sense that the sun was setting on one year, and I was beginning yet another. The year closed with such mixed feelings – as with most years, there more moments of tremendous joy….and equally tremendous grief. Successes to celebrate, and failures to mourn. Days in which I sensed God’s presence, and others where I wondered “Where are you, God?” as my old, familiar frienamy Doubt occasionally returns to tug at my mind and soul.

Sitting there in the last warming rays of the sun, I watched the shadows lengthen and the insects begin their nightly chorus. Then, in a split second where the very last curvature of the sun met the peak of the mountain in front of me, it was alit as with a scorching blazing fire – and then it was gone.

And the sky took on a deep, soothing afterglow, as if it was experiencing the now….and the not yet.

The sun – and the moon, and the stars – in their courses above, joined with all nature in manifold witness.

And I, too, acknowledged in that moment, yet again – yet again – yet again – that great is His faithfulness.

His faithfulness will be great throughout the next 365 days – come what may. He does not change. The unknown lies before each of us like this tremendous book of days. Our lives read the pages, and while we may think we know the story’s plot, like any truly good book that we cannot put down, we do not. We do not know what comes next, with each turning page. The triumphs, the pain, the fear, the joy, the exciting, and the mundane.

The days in which we will sense God’s presence strongly.

And the days in which we will not.

But while we do not know the plot, we do know this: the story of God’s mercy, grace and faithfulness.

And as sure as the sun set on my birthday in a blaze of wonder and fire, so shall God’s mercies be new every morning, as we journey through this place that is not our home.

All I have needed, His hand has provided.

Great is His Faithfulness, unto me.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
there is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
as Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest;
sun, moon, and stars in their courses above
join with all nature in manifold witness
to Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow:
blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed Thy hand hath provided:
great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

-Thomas O. Chisholm

Book Review: Recovering the Lost Art of Reading

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I love to read.

I always have loved reading – from the time I was a little girl I have always had my nose in a book. Sometimes to my detriment; I’ve tripped more times than I care to count because I was trying to read and walk at the same time.

I also love books about books and reading, so I was very excited to dive into “Recovering the Lost Art of Reading” by Leland Ryken and Glenda Faye Mathes, which I received as a part of the Crossway Book Review program.

I was not disappointed.

Ryken & Mathes’ book is an insightful exploration into the transformative power of reading, blending literary critique with spiritual guidance. This book is not just a call to return to reading but an invitation to rediscover the depth, freedom, and joy that comes from engaging deeply with texts. Part of their thesis that I found as a good reminder to myself is the importance of selecting good books. Ryken and Mathes advocate for discernment in reading choices, urging readers to seek out works that are not only well-written but also enriching and edifying. They provide practical advice on how to identify literature that will stand the test of time, literature that challenges, inspires, and educates.

A significant portion of the book is devoted to the spiritual dimensions of reading. Ryken and Mathes explore how reading can be a form of spiritual discipline, enhancing one’s understanding of biblical texts and deepening one’s faith. They highlight the value of incorporating biblical principles into reading practices, suggesting that approaching literature with a biblical worldview can enrich the reading experience and provide profound insights into human nature and the divine.

The authors draw from a wealth of biblical references, illustrating how scripture encourages the pursuit of wisdom and knowledge through reading. They suggest that reading, when done thoughtfully and with discernment, can be a means of experiencing God’s truth and beauty. This adds a rich layer to their advocacy for reading, presenting it not just as an intellectual activity but as a holistic practice that nurtures the soul.

One of my favorite chapters in the book addressed the freedom to read – I walked away from that section refreshed and renewed in my commitment to spend time reading without allowing the nagging guilt that sometimes creeps into my reading time to disrupt it – thoughts like “I should be getting something done” and “Is this the wisest use of my time?”; and even “I’m not learning anything profound from this book, I’m just enjoying it – is that wrong?” Recovering the Lost Art of Reading argues that true reading allows individuals to break free from the shallow engagement typical of digital media, providing a space for contemplation and deeper understanding. This freedom is not just about leisure but about liberating the mind and spirit and fostering intellectual and emotional growth.

“Recovering the Lost Art of Reading” is a compelling call for a return to thoughtful, intentional reading. Ryken and Mathes blend literary analysis, practical advice, and spiritual insight to create a guide that is both inspirational and practical – and well worth the time to read.

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My Dwelling Place – and My Peace

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It’s Memorial Day Weekend. A time to honor those who gave their lives so we can live in freedom. This was made more poignant to me this year, after a trip to Arlington Cemetary last weekend – row after row after row of white-washed headstones stand watch in their solitary assignment to honor forever and mark the death of a soldier whose body lies in its shadow.

While not over-the-top patriotic by any stretch of the imagination, I never want to forget why I am able to go where I want, worship where I am called to worship, read scripture unhindered, believe openly what I know to be truth, and associate with friends, neighbors, family and colleagues that are in my life, without fear of retribution, sanctioning, imprisonment or death.

There is much to be grateful for.

Usually when a three-day holiday rolls around, we pack it with all the things we need to ‘get done’ that we haven’t had time to do – cleaning out the shed, household projects, de-thatching the yard, catching up on mail, or throwing a huge holiday family party.

Not this year.

Our lives have been non-stop for the past three months. I have taken a new job with a professional services organization based in San Diego – a great career move, but not without the usual “Am I making the right decision?’ angst, or the “Now I need to come up to speed on these new projects fast!” anxiety. I’ve also battled some very strange sickness 3 times in the past 4 weeks…landing me in the ER on one of those occasions, severely dehydrated.

Additionally, our two youngest graduated from college two weeks ago – which meant a big family fun bash. So. Good. And the kid’s grandparents have been in town – always a joy to be with them. So much goodness in celebrating together.

And my ex-husband was released from prison, after 14 years.

It’s been a whirlwind of activity, joy, excitement….

….and also renewed grief and anger and a myriad of weird emotions, over the prison release.

There has barely been time to breathe.

So, we – my guy and I – have taken this weekend to rest and regroup. To breathe and to sigh. To bike ride and hike. I’ve taken time to remember who I am, and who God is. To gather my thoughts, to write and write and write, to settle my soul.

It’s been glorious. And that’s not a term I often use.

I’ve spent hours out on our very hot deck, under the biggest deck umbrella my guy could find – soaking up the heat of the new summer rays…soothing the tension in my neck, my shoulders…and my mind.

I’ve watched the birds come to visit our feeders – chickadees, bluebirds, yellow finches, Carolina wrens, hummingbirds, cardinals and so many that I cannot identify. I’ve delayed going back inside until well after darkness has descended, choosing instead to sit together among the frogs, crickets, and other night sounds in our backyard. I’ve also read mindless books. Interesting books, but mindless nonetheless. I’ve captured my thoughts about the last couple of months in writing and locked them away with a key.

A wonderful weekend.

A peaceful weekend.

A dwelling weekend.

I’ve thought a lot lately about the concept of dwelling. Not just living….existing in a time and place, but dwelling. If I dwell someplace, I abide there…..I am safe inside that place. It has become familiar to me – dear to my soul and a comfort to my mind. It’s where I run to, when tired, hurt or angry. Or when I am scared, uncertain, and overwhelmed.

But it is also where I go when I sense grace, mercy and joy.

My God is my dwelling place. He is my strong shelter; the rock to which I cling.

I recently came across Micah 5:4-5 in other writing I was working on. At the time, I was in the midst of the joyfulcelebrationangstworryoverwhelmedangrygriefproudbeautiful days of the past 2-3 months. Reading this passage was a drink of water to my, at that time, joyful yet fearful and worried soul:

4 And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the LORD,
in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God.
And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great
to the ends of the earth.

5 And he shall be their peace.1

Micah 5 is a prophecy about the birth of the coming Messiah. It is words of hope to the weary and waiting Israelites. It’s a reminder that the Shepherd-King is coming…and that he will stand and shepherd…or care for…those he calls his own. It’s also a declaration that there is coming the ability to dwell securely, for this Shepherd-King is mighty.

In taking a closer look at Micah 5, I discovered that the Hebrew word for dwell used in verse 4 is yashabu, which is created from three words – yud (י), shin (ש), and bet (ב). These three letters together, literally become “the work of returning”.

O, my soul.

How often do I stray away from my safe place – how often do I finish reading scripture and praying, and then jump into my work day knowing that I am not truly abiding in Christ. How often do I try to muscle through the stuff; persevere where there is no need to persevere because He calls me to rest in Him – to trust Him.

I needed to be reminded to do the work of returning to the security within my Savior’s arms – even in the midst of uncertainty about the future.

Even in the worries of health and jobs and parenting young adults.

God has been my dwelling place. He is my dwelling place. I need to be reminded of these words sung at our wedding from the very depths of our souls, as we stood at the alter together as a family – all six of us – knowing what God has carried each of us through and knowing that He would continue – and has continued, and is continuing – to be our dwelling place:

You’ve been our home
You’ve been our shelter safe
For young & old to generations past
We stand in awe of a God so great
We stand in thanks for your faithfulness
O Lord, you’ve been our dwelling place
(Tommy Walker – Make it Glorious)

I love our house – but it is not my dwelling place.

Rather, my secure dwelling place in my God.

He is my peace.
He is my peace.
He is my peace.

Another Hebrew word often rendered “dwell” (though not used in the Micah passage) is shakhan or shaken. It means ‘to settle down’. I’m sure that it is referencing something like to quit wandering and find a home. We even use that phrase in today’s English – “They are going to settle down in Virginia.” Or, “I think they may be ready to ‘settle down.'”

But tonight, I take comfort in this Hebraic translation of settling down. I’m thankful to God, my peace, for using this beautifully quiet weekend at home, at rest, and in His holy presence, to settle my mind and soul.

Settled joy. Settled dwelling in Him.

Amen, and Amen.

  1. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Mic 5:4–5). (2016). Crossway Bibles. ↩︎
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