by Roseanna White | May 31, 2018 | Thoughtful Thursdays
There’s a passage in Matthew. We all know it. But I admit it always baffled me a little. It’s from chapter 9, verses 14-17.
14 Then the disciples of John came to Him, saying, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but Your disciples do not fast?”
15 And Jesus said to them, “Can the friends
of the bridegroom mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? But the
days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast. 16 No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and the tear is made worse. 17 Nor do they put new wine into old wineskins, or else the wineskins break, the wine is spilled, and the wineskins are ruined. But they put new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.”
I’ve read this countless times. But not until recently, when we got to it in our Bible study, did it finally click. And I think in part it’s because our culture doesn’t make wine like they used to.
In Jesus’s day, wineskins were made of leather. Now, leather has a bit of give to it–it can grow, and it can shrink as it cures. Back in Ye Olden Days, when you wanted a leather garment–gloves, pants, etc–to fit you perfectly, you would buy it a bit large and then soak it in warm water on your hand, etc., until it had shrunk to fit you. Then when you let it dry, voila! Perfect fit.
The leather used for wineskins would expand with the wine. As grapes ferment, they release gases, and the leather would grow with it because it was supple and new and hadn’t been cured yet. So you could fill it up, and the container would grow as the contents demanded. Pretty cool, huh? But that only works with new leather. If you put the wine into an old wineskin that had already been stretched out . . . well, that’s not going to go so well. The gases are going to be released, but the leather isn’t going to have any more give. So it will break. Burst. And all the wine is lost.
That part I’ve known for a while . . . but I still wasn’t sure how it applied to the question that John’s disciples were asking Jesus. What does that have to do with mourning? For me, the key to understanding why this an appropriate reaction from Jesus required going back to the key point of the wine in wineskins. What was the basic problem? The wine doesn’t fit.
That’s what Jesus is getting at here. There are times in life when mourning doesn’t fit. His disciples were still in celebration mode–their Savior was there! Among them! Teaching and performing signs and wonders. Preaching the gospel and healing the sick. This thing that humanity had been waiting for millennia–it was happening!
That, my friends, is cause for
Joy. So how could His disciples have partaken in the things of mourning, like fasting? Had they tried it, it would have burst its confines . . . and then what would have happened? The wine would have been lost.
But Jesus knew well a time was coming when they would mourn. The new cloth would age. The wineskin would grow to its limit. The relationships He cultured so carefully would mature, and then the disciples would be sent out on their own to become the teachers in His absence.
This is life. This is the way of things. Celebration eventually gives way to mourning. Life contains, always, both good and bad.
But here’s what I really loved about this analogy as I paused to contemplate it. In His analogy, mourning is represented by the wine. The disciples are the wineskin. If you tried to force mourning into something unstretched, it would break. But wine itself wasn’t a drink of mourning. It was a drink of celebration. And the oldest wine is the better wine, traditionally.
So what is best for the celebration? That which has grown and stretched, that which has mourned. That which is tested and tried.
Mourning is a part of our celebration . . . and celebration is a part of our mourning. The two are meant to go hand in hand. Celebration will eventually give way to sorrow, yes . . . and sorrow will give way again to
Joy. There’s a cycle to it.
And the wise man is the one who knows which time is which and can see the presence of each in the other.
by Roseanna White | May 10, 2018 | Thoughtful Thursdays
Tuesday afternoon, I pulled back into my driveway after a lovely retreat with Stephanie Morrill, best friend and critique partner extraordinaire.
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| Arriving at our rental house, energetic and ready to go! |
If you’ve been hanging around my blog any length of time, you’ll have a good idea of what our writing retreats look like. Pretty much like this.
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| Working…working…working… |
We do a whole lot of writing. A bit of outdoor exercise. We eat…
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| What? Chocolate is the most essential food group on a writing retreat! |
We brainstorm. We laugh. But mostly, the hours are spent there at our laptops, where the word counts can pile up and the scenes-to-go list can keep on shrinking.
So in case you’re curious, here’s a day by day recap of how this year’s retreat went for me. My main project was finishing up The Number of Love, the story of Margot, little sister to Lukas from A Song Unheard and the first book in my new Codebreakers Series, which will begin next summer from Bethany House.
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| My spot. We were so happy to see super-comfy leather furniture! |
Thursday afternoon, I picked Stephanie up from the airport (it was my year to host), and we drove to a cute AirB&B house in Arnold, MD. After we got settled and chowed down on some gourmet food (or, you know…mac and cheese), we claimed our spots, plugged in our laptops (the plugs never moved) and got started. That first evening, I wrote almost 5,000 words…which it would usually take me 2-3 days to achieve.
On Friday, our first full day, we both got started early, determined to hit our usual daily goal for when on retreat: 10,000 words. We also discovered the local grocery store, explored the neighborhood a bit, and decided that the outdoor patio was our new favorite spot for meals. By the end of the day, I’d logged 11,000 words–which of course means we celebrated with ice cream.
Yes, there’s a lot of ice cream on our retreats. To reward ourselves when we hit our goal. Or, if we fall short, to console us. 😉
Saturday we kept on plugging along. We had big plans for dinner–pizza that was delivered straight to our door (not a luxury I ever get to enjoy out in the country)–and I had a major breakthrough when I realized that I could make a change to my plot that would consolidate, make the ending more active, and bring things to a much better conclusion than what I’d had planned. Woot! I realized by the end of the day on Saturday, that I would definitely be able to finish this book on Sunday. YAY!!! I reached my 10,000 words and felt like I was in a great place for the next day. So totally deserving of that ice cream.
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| My room decorated with books. #love |
Sunday, I took no pictures. Because I had to FINISH. We did take a walk, during which Stephanie helped me brainstorm my climax scenes. We ate chicken pot pies, because for some reason, these are our quintessential retreat food. And I did it. I wrote 12,000 words, which got me to the end of the story! Ish. As soon as I went to bed, I realized I’d forgotten a conversation and knew I’d need to flesh out another. But, you know. Finishedish is a perfectly valid thing to be after a 12K-word day. 😉
Monday I got up and made those additions, which took me an hour or two and added another 1,000 words to the manuscript. It came in at a really reasonable (for me) 113,000 words…which is always what I’m aiming for, but I often don’t finish up until 120-124,000 words, so this felt really great, LOL.
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| Where I worked in the mornings, while drinking my coffee |
It was then time to shift gears, and I’d so hoped I’d have time for this! I needed to plot out my next Guideposts book for the Secrets of Wayfarers Inn Series too, and I was praying I’d finish my other one with time enough to spare on the retreat for this. I started out with some basic brainstorming and researching and then hit upon the idea that really grabbed me while Stephanie finished up her last few scenes of her WIP too.
We decided it was time to hit the town and went out for our only meal that we ate out of the house, LOL–at Cantler’s, which is a seafood institution in the Annapolis area. And to which I’d never been, because I hate seafood, LOL. But I’m happy to report that their blackened chicken bruschetta sandwich is THE best chicken sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my life. So. Good. We enjoyed a relaxed, leisurely lunch by the water, neither of us feeling pressed for time–not always a guarantee on the last full day.
In the afternoon, I turned our brainstorming of my Guideposts book into a rambling story synopsis, really pleased that the ideas all started coming together. We enjoyed our last ice cream celebration, did some serious laughing, and turned in.
Our last morning there, I plugged my synopsis into the requisite story development worksheet I need to turn in to my editors, got a start on the first chapter that I also have to turn in, and then we started cleaning up…and taking more pictures. 😉 After our last lunch, we checked out and headed home.
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| Our last lunch outside on the patio |
Overall, it was a such a wonderful, blessed weekend. Stephanie and I only see each other once a year, so it’s awesome to actually get to see each other face to face, laugh together, and do on-the-spot brainstorming as we work. I met all my goals and feel really pleased with how the projects came together. There’s work yet to do on both, but those deadlines no longer look like fire-breathing-monsters, so we’re good. 😉
Thanks for bearing with me as I vanish and then chat about it! Stop back tomorrow for a Friday from the Archives that remembers a day before I got my first “yes” from a publisher…and how the same friends I enjoy getting away with now to meet our deadlines were the ones to help me smile through the disappointments before we got here.
by Roseanna White | Apr 26, 2018 | Thoughtful Thursdays
When it comes to how we spend our time, there are good ways and bad ways, right? There are things that we deem worthwhile uses of our time . . . and things we deem not worthwhile.
Over the last couple weeks, I’ve had a couple conversations with my best friend about what’s worthwhile–for our kids, for ourselves. Most recently, the conversation involved me giving her a pep talk, not unlike other times when she’s had to give pretty much the same pep talk to me. 😉 After coming off a very serious project, the next thing on our list sometimes feels, well . . . silly. Inconsequential. Nearly selfish.
And we struggle with guilt over spending time on it, because does it really matter?
Obviously, the answer to this might be different based on what that project is. But in general, if it’s something we’ve already laid out for ourselves, there’s a reason behind it. Sometimes we just have to remind ourselves that there are different types of useful. There’s ministering to the homeless on the streets, and there’s reading to kids at a school. Both are good. Both are worthwhile. Both can really impact a life. But one’s a bit harder, right? That doesn’t mean the other is less valuable. Worth less. It’s just different. And at different times in our lives, we might need that different type of service.
But we’d also been talking about this as it has to do with our kids, and the things they like to spend their time on. I have to think this is something most modern parents debate.
Are video games okay? YouTube videos? Television? Social media? How much is too much? What is
worthwhile?
I admit to quite a bit of frustration on this topic. Because I have these ideas of what’s worthwhile, what’s okay, what’s useful to my kids. Reading, obviously. Outside time. Extracurricular activities. A little TV’s okay.
My children don’t always agree.
It’s been a struggle, sometimes. But I have to say that what made me look at it from a different perspective was when someone else commented on the same thing I’d whined about before. (Yes, I’m one of those people who tend to think, “I can chastise my kids for what they’re doing wrong, but you don’t get to. That’s my job, not yours.” LOL) When someone else commented on the uselessness of the YouTube videos my son likes to watch, I found myself coming to the defence, not just of Rowyn for watching them, but of the whole phenomenon. These young people have found a way to create a new medium. They’ve made ridiculous amounts of money providing something that kids today enjoy–basically, videos of themselves playing games.
Do I understand it? Not exactly. But . . . isn’t that what an awful lot of TV is too? Reality shows in particular. Those have become pretty darn accepted by the masses. But the same person who can’t miss an episode of their favorite might snarl at the so-dubbed YouTubers. Is that fair, though? Just because it’s not the medium you prefer, does that mean it’s worse? Nope. I really think they deserve a lot of kudos for creating something that has really struck a chord with today’s youth. And it’s a lot more “real” in a lot of ways than reality TV. They’re showing their failures and struggles as well as their victories. Maybe in something “silly” like a video game–but those are still life lessons, right? That sometimes to achieve your goal, you have to try it over and over again. You fail. You go back to the beginning. And you keep trying.
And what about the thing I love best–fiction? Is that really any different? How often have people sneered at popular fiction? Romance? At fiction rather than non-fiction? A LOT. And they’ve been sneering for hundreds of years. The thing I love has been deemed not-worthwhile by a lot of people. So maybe…maybe I ought to be careful about what I judge to be not-worthwhile.
In college, someone once asked me, “Why do you always have a novel with you?” My answer was, “Because I value my sanity.” To me, that Love Inspired novel was absolutely worthwhile. It was necessary to my mental health. Reading Christian Fiction provided a much-needed counterbalance to all the heavy philosophy I had to read for school. Plenty of people didn’t think it was worthwhile.
But I knew better.
So how does that translate for this new generation? What things that I don’t understand are not just okay but are necessary for their sanity, their development in this world I’ve helped create? Well, for starters, they really do need to be savvy with the screens. Unless something apocalyptic happens, they’re going to be using them even more than I do.
Next, I need to grant that their favorite YouTube channels aren’t any less inane than the TV I spent my weekends watching as a kid. (I’m sorry, but mutated adolescent turtles and singing raisins aren’t exactly brilliant things either, LOL.)
And finally, I just need to pray that their own life’s callings, their passions, will somehow be fed by the media at their fingertips. My love of what some would call “silly romance novels” has led me to my ministry, my career, my calling. Who’s to say what my kids might be led to?
That said, I still limit screen time, LOL, and encourage my kids to try plenty of other things too. But while I’m doing that, I’m also reminding myself that just because I don’t love a thing doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.
Is this something that you struggle with in your family?
by Roseanna White | Apr 19, 2018 | Thoughtful Thursdays
I’m busy.
This is indisputable fact. I’m writing 6 books in 18 months, I homeschool my kids, I do much of the day-to-day running of WhiteFire Publishing, I design book covers and interior layouts, I cook, I (occasionally) clean, I knit, I’m pianist at my church, I’m a ballet mom, and I teach a class pretty much every semester at our homeschool association. There are days when I’m just so exhausted it’s all I can do to think.
But it’s funny, right? I look back at where I was, say, seven years ago. Only one of my kids needed to be taught. I was working on my first book that would be published by someone else. WhiteFire was only two or three authors other than me. I did no design work. Xoe had just started ballet, so it was only one night a week (now it’s two). We didn’t do Bible study yet at our church. I had no responsibilities in our homeschool group. My house was more of a mess than it is now, and we more often ate canned soup for dinner.
And I felt
so overwhelmed. I’m talking, break down in tears because I felt like I couldn’t do it all overwhelmed. My constant prayer was that God would expand my time. That He’d refresh me because I was so drained. That somehow He would do it all for me, because I didn’t think I could.
That’s a familiar refrain in the world. I can’t tell you how many times I hear someone say, “Oh, I could never ______.” Fill in the blank.
I could never homeschool.
I could never write a book.
I could never work from home.
I could never work outside the home.
I could never go into foreign missions.
I could never give that up.
I could never take that on.
I could never . . .
And it’s true, you know? We can’t just do everything. Especially not on our own. But with friends, with family, with our churches, and most importantly, with God, we can be equipped to do exactly what He calls us to do. No more…but no less.
But how often do we let our fears, insecurities, and laziness interfere with that call? How often do we give up on or not even attempt to do that thing God has whispered in our ear because we don’t think we can?
Back when Xoe was in kindergarten, I was seriously considering giving up on this whole homeschool thing. I didn’t think I could anymore. I couldn’t write and teach and take care of a toddler all at the same time. That was that time of overwhelming, when it was all so much, so heavy, that I was just exhausted by it.
Around that time, we had a healing service at our church, led by a Spirit-filled couple visiting from another church in our association. I remember slipping into a pew at the back of the church–so I could slip out again with my toddler if necessary. There weren’t a lot of people there–maybe 15 or 20. I didn’t want to draw attention. But I knew I needed something. I wasn’t sick, but I was tired. Still, I didn’t want to take the time of these guests when there were people there so desperate for a healing touch and me…I was okay. I was fine. I was getting along.
But the husband of the couple came back and slid into the pew in front of me and turned to face me. I’ll never forget what he said. “You don’t need a healing. But you need…something. Right? Refreshing?”
I’m not one for tears, but they filled my eyes at that moment, and I nodded. “I feel so overwhelmed,” I said.
So he prayed for me. He prayed that God would shore me up, that He’d be my strength, that He’d breathe new life into my spirit and refresh me. He sat there for probably ten minutes and talked to me about putting on that Spiritual armor every day–and told me that sometimes wearing it isn’t so we can be on the offensive, but on the defensive. That sometimes he imagines curling up into that armor and hiding in it, as if it’s a turtle shell.
Because when we hide in Him, He takes care of it all.
That evening, something shifted. Maybe I didn’t have a physical illness that needed to be healed, but my spirit needed it. And my spirit received it.
Never, in the intervening seven years, have I ever again felt like I did back then. Oh, I get tired. Exhausted. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. But only physically and mentally. Never spiritually. Thanks to that shift, I kept on homeschooling…and man. I know my kids would have been fine wherever they got their education, but I can’t even count all the amazing moments we would have missed out on had I given it up when it really wasn’t the time for me to step aside from it!
I didn’t feel capable. And maybe I wasn’t. But He was. He is.
With God fighting our battles for us, we can do whatever He asks. It isn’t easy, but it isn’t supposed to be. The thing is, it’s
possible. We become capable, in Him, of doing the things we are not capable of doing by ourselves.
I really can’t tell you what changed that day in that back pew of my church. I can just tell you that the things that exhausted me then are but a portion of my daily tasks now. We get used to burdens until they don’t feel like burdens anymore–that’s part of it. The weight that it took all our effort to lift when we first started our training becomes easy over time if we keep working our muscles, right? The same goes in life. In our tasks. In our callings. In our spiritual lives.
I’m not saying busy is the best state to always be in. And I’m not saying there aren’t still plenty of things that I have to say “No” to or delegate to someone else. I’m certainly no Superwoman.
But we’re never asked to do the things He calls us to alone. We’re just asked to step up, be willing, and follow in His footsteps.
Do you ever struggle with feeling capable of doing what you need or want to do?
by Roseanna White | Apr 12, 2018 | Thoughtful Thursdays
This past weekend I just began my rotation teaching the kids at my church (being a small church, we alternate who’s in with them so that the same person doesn’t have the responsibility all the time). I decided to start a 36-week course aimed at tweens and teens (our kids range from 9-13), and it goes through Father, Son, and Holy Spirit each in a 12-week course that focuses on a lot of tenets of faith, as they fall under the different headings.
This first week, the focus was on God the Father as Creator.
Now, this is something the kids have studied so many times that they kinda start to groan when you say that’s the topic of the day, LOL. They know Genesis. They’ve got it this way, that way, and the next way too. My kids have had homeschool classes on it. It’s been covered by teacher after teacher at church. But this was a different take on it.
This was focused on why they should care that God is the Creator. What it really means for them. And for those who don’t profess to faith.
As I was preparing the lesson, an analogy struck me that I was pretty darn excited about, as it seems really perfect for this video-gaming generation. So I figured I’d lay it out here.
God is Creator. Even people who aren’t Christians, people who don’t really know what they believe, generally grant this. Obviously atheists don’t, but I daresay if you go up to most people on the street and say, “Hey, do you think there’s a Being who created the universe?” they’d say, “Yeah, probably. Sure.”
So with that as a premise, we move into our video game analogy–and with a video game, there’s obviously no debate about
if, right?
Obviously there’s a creator.
Well, a month or two ago, my 10-year-old, video-game-happy son called me in to the living room. “Mama, you’ve got to see this! Watch! It’s a video of the creator of the game playing this level. He does it perfectly.”
It was true–and a lot of fun to watch. Because the game creator knew all the tricks, obviously. Every hidden door. Every power-up. He could get every coin, kill every boss, hit every ledge just right. He not only got the maximum number of points the level would allow, he did it in a time way faster than we ever could, skipping half those coins.
Because he knew that game with the perfect, intimate knowledge that only a creator can have.
Now, let’s say this video game was serious business. Fun, yes, but maybe you’d entered a competition. You were at one of those big gaming conventions, and you had one of the seats. There was a big prize at stake. Huge money, maybe. The person with the highest score at the end of the day would win. Serious stuff, not just a play for fun in your living room sort of thing. High stakes. (Kinda like life.)
Then let’s say that the creator showed up at the convention and announced to all the players, “Hey, I’m having a seminar at 10:00. Everyone’s welcome. I’m going to show you guys all the tricks, all the hidden doors, what to watch out for, and how to get the highest score possible.”
You’d be an idiot not to go, right? Because he’s the creator. He knows it all. And he’s offering to share that knowledge.
But not everyone goes. Some because they think they know better than him. Some because they say it won’t be as fun if they do. Some because it’ll cramp their style. Maybe some even doubt that this guy is really the creator–probably just some phony trying to get in their heads and psych them out.
But the people that go–they come away with some amazing knowledge on how to play the game, don’t they? Maybe it’ll take a little practice to figure it all out. Maybe sometimes, when they try that difficult maneuver he showed them, they mess up. Maybe sometimes they doubt they can really do it. But the creator ends up on the convention floor, at the competition. He’s there, whispering advice and instructions along the way. He’s invested. He wants people to succeed, and to have fun doing it.
I’m sure you see the analogy. If life, this world, is the video game, then God is the ultimate creator. He knows all the ins-and-outs. Where every boss hides, the secrets to bringing them down. He knows the secret doors and power-ups. He can, and did, play this game perfectly, as Jesus. And He offers His knowledge, His guidance, to everyone.
But not everyone cares. Not everyone wants to listen. It’ll hamper their style, and it sure won’t be as much fun, right?
Um…I don’t know about you, but I don’t find failing at a video game much fun. I find it frustrating. I’d rather know how to do something then keep banging my head against the pixelated wall. Same goes in life. I like the guidance, thank you. I like knowing that the Creator has my back and is there whispering in my ear, “This way. Don’t forget about that right there. Now you want to pause. Now it’s time to go.”
If you’re going to grant the Creator…why would you not listen to Him? At least, if your goal is to succeed. You’d listen to him on the game convention floor, right?
So let’s listen to Him in life too. Common sense. Especially when the stakes are so much higher than a few thousand dollars.
by Roseanna White | Apr 5, 2018 | Thoughtful Thursdays
In my church’s Wednesday night Bible study, we’ve been reading through Romans, taking it just a few verses at a time and really digging deep, beneath the easy and accepted answers to try to grasp the subtleties of what Paul is saying. Most recently, we’ve been in chapter 7, where Paul is talking about how we battle with sin.
Using the present tense, he talks about his own struggles to do the right thing and not do the wrong thing. This isn’t just the battle or the sin from before the Damascus Road experience–this is now. I think all too often people use this as an excuse. “Look, even Paul still struggled with sin, so surely it’s not surprising that I do!”
But it’s important to ask what sins he’s talking about. Is he still struggling with persecuting Christians? I don’t think so. With legalism? Paul’s letters certainly never indicated that this is something he deals with–in fact, we see him in Acts calling out others on it.
So should we be still struggling with our Big Sins from before we accepted Christ? Or rather, should we be okay with still struggling with those, just accepting it as part of humanity? That has never sat right with me.
And on Good Friday last week, the sermon brought this up again in my thoughts. We had a guest speaker, a retired pastor who is a regular attendee at our church. As he spoke about the work of the Cross and how the crucified Christ worked His salvation miracle for all our sins, he touched again on how those sins change over the years.
How the closer we grow to our perfect God, the more imperfections we can see in ourselves. We’re not struggling with the same old sins, repeating them over and again. We’re becoming ever mindful of new levels we need to reach.
Much as I hate cleaning, this is a perfect analogy. I could use any number of examples–property after a tornado, a house after a flood, a child’s messy room, a table on which you’ve been kneading dough. The same principles apply to all.
When you begin cleaning, you start with the Big Stuff. The trees and branches; the debris and destroyed furniture; the entire toy box worth of contents on the floor; the mounds of flour and bits of crusty dough.
In being cleansed from sin, these are the obvious things. The murder and adultery and idolatry. This is where God is saying, “Yeah, we’ll worry later about whether you pray in every moment you should. Right now, let’s just make sure you’re not still frequenting the prostitutes at the temple in Corinth, okay?” I’m not saying clearing this is
easy. It’s not. It’s hard work, and if you’ve been mired in these big, noticeable sins for a long time, breaking free of them is
work. Manual labor style, exhausting work. But there’s no question of whether you need to do it after you come to Christ, so you buckle down and get to it.
But once the big stuff is cleared out, after you take a breather, thinking, “Wow, I did good work! I cleaned up a lot of my life! Let me just take a peek at what I’ve done…” you go back and look. And do you know what you see?
All the twigs still scattered around your property. The mud on your floor. The bits of paper and trash in your kid’s room. The oval of flour on the table that just won’t brush off.
Maybe in your spiritual life, this is the loving your neighbor and loving God first. Still important things, right? Your yard or house or room or table sure don’t look clean with them there. Similarly, your spiritual life is obviously not right if you say you’ve accepted Christ but can’t spare a kind word for anyone around. So you set to work on those too.
And once you finish this round, it might look pretty good, right? If you don’t look too closely, it’s neat and tidy.
But we’re not finished. There are still leaves in the yard. The room needs scrubbed. The floor needs to be vacuumed. The table wiped down, maybe even sprayed with something. And it doesn’t end there, either. Because the wind will blow again, footprints will be tracked in, new toys dropped, fingerprints or new food will land on that clean table.
Cleaning up our souls is a process too–a never-ending one. Because as we continue to live and encounter new situations, new clutter or dirt lands on us, right? It’s not that we should be continually working on those first things–it’s that the cleaner we get, the more nit-picky we get. Those tiny flaws that weren’t even visible under the big problems–the nooks and crannies of our spirits–need our attention once the bigger stuff is cleared away.
But I love that our God is so big and yet so detail-oriented. The God of the cyclone is also the God of the whisper. The Lord who forgives us for the Big Sins also pours out His mercy on those nooks and crannies.
Because He wants us to be Holy, as He is holy.
He doesn’t want us to be content with clean enough. He wants our souls and spirits and hearts to be pure. Pristine. Like His.
Are we too content to stop after the first or second round, or let new clutter undo the work we’ve done before? What crannies inside us need His attention today?
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.