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Danial was baptized last Sunday. Here is how he shared about his trust in Christ, and how the Lord brought him to faith…

I was raised in a secular home, with my church experiences so limited they could be counted on one hand. In my youth, I sinned in countless ways and broke most of God's commandments, living far from the path He intended. 

The summer after high school graduation, I had a front-row seat to two tragedies that shook me to the core.  My best friend Dustin drowned during a camping trip, and less than a month later, my friend Matt suffered a devastating fall that left him comatose for the next 20 years. 

These events forced me to ponder the deeper questions of existence and gave me an intimate view of how Christians respond in crisis. I watched Matt's family pray, their unwavering love for the Lord shining through.

I saw their community rally together providing them with a superhuman strength that defied explanation.

Throughout my life, the Lord has strategically placed people around me to guide and influence me toward Him. Looking back, I can clearly see His hand at work in those moments. 

When my family moved to the East Mountains, it was my wife who insisted we find a church home. By then, I considered myself a Christian, though my knowledge was shallow—mostly from courses I'd taken at university. As we joined Mountain Christian Church, I experienced the body of Christ firsthand, surrounded by a supportive family of believers. 

As I continue to grow in my faith and surround myself with Godly men, I witness the Lord actively at work in my life. I still battle with sin, but through His strength, I've found the power to overcome what once seemed impossible. Five years ago, I walked away from drinking, and this past fall, I gave up gambling. In the past, I knew these were vices I needed to eliminate, but now, with the Lord's help and the encouragement of this community of believers, I've broken several chains that once held me captive. 

Only through the power of Christ can I find peace. 

I am a great sinner, but He is an even greater Savior.

Praise be to God.

“Can any of you add one moment to his life span by worrying? … Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6:27, 34

I can’t ever recall a time when in the middle of a stressful season I said to a friend, “I feel so much better this morning; thank goodness I was up worrying all night.” I’m not sure why we often default to worrying when we know it can’t achieve a single thing. I suppose worrying makes us feel like we’re getting ahead of a possible pain, fallout, or loss we fear is coming down the pike. We know getting out in front won’t stop whatever we’re worrying about from hitting us, but at least we won’t be ambushed by it. At best, worry is a lousy form of preparation and usually a terrible waste of energy since half the time the stuff we worry about never happens anyway.

This is what Jesus is detailing for us in these verses. Worrying can’t lengthen our lives by even a moment (or add an inch to our height, which I could have used while playing basketball in high school). And there’s no need for us to stew about what troubles might come tomorrow because we have enough to concern ourselves with today. Worrying about what may or may not happen in the future only snatches the precious moments we have right now, the only moments we’re assured of. If we prayerfully and responsibly deal with today’s troubles, instead of squandering the time fretting about tomorrow’s, we might actually be able to keep certain ones from snowballing into yet another day.

Jesus is offering us valuable, commonsense truths that stand on their own, but how much more meaningful when we remember who it is speaking them! That the Son of God Himself is the One relieving us of worry transforms His words from mere wisdom statements to life-changing kingdom of heaven realities because of His presence in our lives. We all know that living a life flooded with worry is awful and fruitless, but much of the time we can’t help it. What we need is to be rescued from it. That rescue is what so much of Jesus’s Sermon is about. Because the presence of Christ has infiltrated our world, He not only teaches us how but also empowers us to live free of debilitating anxiety.

What is keeping you up at night? Where have your resources fallen short of what you need? Who is threatening your possessions? I could tell you, Don’t worry because that’s inadequate and not very smart, but that wouldn’t help you. What is needed are Jesus’s anchoring truths about how the hurting are the flourishing ones because the kingdom of heaven belongs to them and how your heavenly Father knows what you need and is not caught off guard by your concerns. You don’t have to get out in front of what might happen because He’s already there.

Worry doesn’t get to have a bedroom in the Father’s house where daily bread is provided and needs tended. Worry is an outsider in a world where God’s people are infinitely more looked after than birds who can’t meal-plan yet are fed, where flowers that can’t slip into dresses or tuxedos are adorned in glory. And at the bottom of all this, we need not worry because Jesus is present among us. He is with us. He is with you. And the inexhaustible riches of His glory are present to meet your needs.

Heavenly Father, you feed the birds and clothe the flowers, and still I am much more valuable to You. Relieve me from worrying, not only because it’s tiresome and fruitless but because it’s needless in Your presence. Supply me with Your provision, help me remember You are eager to meet my needs, and generously give me Yourself. Let me go throughout my day, not oblivious to my real concerns but anxious to place them in Your care.

The Weakness of Worry. Kelly Minter. March 26, 2026.

https://kellyminter.com/2026/03/26/the-weakness-of-worry/

“How many children do you have?” is a question I am often asked. No matter how many times I have heard it, it can still raise my heart rate and make me flustered. Sometimes I still hesitate. Should I just say, “three,” since that is how many I have on earth? What if they ask their ages? Then I will have to explain that my daughter died. But laying aside someone else’s potential discomfort, there is only one answer that sits right with me: “Four. I have four children.” My mother’s heart cannot leave out my second child. I am her mother.

Recently I took my three-year-old to the children’s hospital ER. After about three hours of waiting, a nurse came out and called for the next child in a loud voice: “Leila!” Instinctively I thought she was calling us; she was calling my daughter’s name. Within a second or two reality set in, as I watched a different little girl with her mother walk toward the nurse. But hearing that name made my heart leap—my daughter! I am her mother.

One of the hardest things about the death of a baby is that you have nothing to show for your motherhood. After saying goodbye to Leila, we came home from the hospital, and I folded up all the baby clothes I had washed and put them away. Then I gave away the newborn diapers and baby wipes I had bought. One of the most agonizing experiences was having my milk come in a few days after her stillbirth. My body was still providing for my baby, responding to the hormonal triggers following labor, urging me to feed a newborn who was not there and who did not need my milk. Almost as hard as the milk coming was the milk drying up. And yet everything in me still yearned for my baby. I am her mother.

DEATH CANNOT SEVER

A live birth or a surviving child is not what makes you a mother. Since your child’s life began at conception, so too did your motherhood. The death of your child does not undo that reality. We see this beautifully displayed in Luke’s gospel. In a town called Nain, Jesus witnesses the funeral procession of a young man:

I love the language Luke uses. The man is dead, but he is still “the only son of his mother.” Death didn’t sever the mother-son relationship. Luke continues:

In life and in death, this woman is his mother. And in resurrection life, Jesus gives her back her son.

We see this again with Jairus’s twelve-year-old daughter. Jesus and his disciples have just been told that the little girl has died:

This little girl’s parents are as much her father and mother beside her deathbed as they are when she wakes up and needs food. In both examples, the expression of parenthood is different, but the reality of the parent-child relationship does not change—even in death.

MOTHERHOOD WITHOUT THEM

So what does motherhood look like for us bereaved moms when there’s no baby to rock, and settle and feed—when there is no child to raise? Of course, it will look very different for each of us. I have come to appreciate that there is a particular complexity to grief that comes with a miscarriage before a baby’s gender can be known. But one thing we have in common is that we all carry around our child in our hearts, our memories, and our longings. In The Kitchen Congregation, Nora Seton captures it poignantly when she writes: “The death of a baby is a melody played softly through its mother’s life like an intimate dirge, and you have to have died a little yourself to hear the music.”

You and I carry that sad melody—the intimate dirge—around with us, and very few ever hear the music. So it can be helpful to find ways to express our motherly love for our children. For me, it means that when asked, I include Leila in the number of children I have. I am more able now to push past the awkward- ness of the other person when I tell them I have a baby in heaven. We often remind Zac and Hannah that they have a big sister, and we try to help Ben remember when he met and held his little sister. Jonny does a little catechism with the kids on the Lord’s Day that reminds them we’re about to go to church and join Leila and the angels in worship. We have Leila’s hand and foot- print on display on our mantelpiece and her photo on top of the piano. Every Christmas we hang ornaments on the tree with her name on it. And when we get the opportunity, we love to visit her grave in Cambridge, England. Some of our parental love for her is expressed in caring for that little plot of land—cleaning her head- stone, sowing grass seed, and planting daffodil bulbs. And every year on March 17, now called Saint Leila’s Day in our home, we go out as a family and enjoy a meal in remembrance of her. Then we return home and let off yellow helium balloons into the sky, our gaze lifted heavenward, longing for that sweet reunion.

I don’t get to watch Leila play sports, braid her hair, or take her out for mommy-daughter dates. How I wish I could do all those things! But I won’t forget her, and I won’t stop talking about her. The world may forget you are a mother to your child. Even those close to you may forget—unintentionally, they may not mention your baby’s name or include him or her in a birth order. But God will not forget them. He blessed you with a baby whom he knitted together in your womb. In life, and in death, he views you as your child’s mother. You are still a mother.

New Growth Press. I Am Still Her Mother. Jackie Gibson. May 5, 2025.

https://blog.newgrowthpress.com/i-am-still-her-mother/?utm_source=Klaviyo&utm_medium=email&_kx=E5pFpYTAmS7QVLXbr2Z-vjV0LDBCvlpyqcRrC-h0TtY.WwnVif

I’ll never forget the first time we took the whole family out for Mexican food. We had four little men ages 6 and younger, and I was pregnant with number five. (Seriously, what were we thinking?)

The service was unusually slow, so the kids munched on stale raisins from the diaper bag. After an hour one kid had fallen out of his seat and had a bruise to prove it. One had spilled water all over the table; another had choked on a tortilla chip and thrown up on his plate. And the food still hadn’t come. When it finally arrived our order was all wrong. All in all, not an unusual experience for a young family trying to have a meal out.

Except . . . it was Mother’s Day.

And every little inconvenience, every spill, every fuss, and whine weighed extra on my heart. This was Mother’s Day. My day. The day my husband had thoughtfully set aside for me to enjoy being queen for a day. But I didn’t feel like a queen. I felt like a worn-out mommy.

This Mother’s Day, thousands of moms will be disappointed because the day didn’t turn out the way they expected. But there is hope. There’s a way to have a disappointment-proof Mother’s Day. And it starts with us.

Day for Compensation
First, let’s back up a little. Where does our disappointment come from? There’s a popular meme floating around Facebook that describes a mom’s job. It says something like: “I’m a chef, chauffer, nurse, counselor, maid . . .” And the point is always, “Don’t tell ME I don’t have a job. I’m a MOM.”

I used to find these lists amusing and affirming. Now I think they can be damaging. Without realizing it, we start to measure our worth by these lists. And we want others to notice and show appreciation. But this only makes us defensive and bitter. How can anyone ever thank us enough? No Mother’s Day card, no fancy brunch, and no bouquet is enough to repay us for these jobs.

If we fixate on being appreciated, we’ll always be let down. A day of celebration becomes a day of compensation. It’s our chance to get a little payback. “Finally,” we think. “The kids will recognize all I do around here.” And yes, it is good and right to honor mothers. It’s right to say, “Thank you for all you do.” But if our identity is tied to how well we’re appreciated, we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment.

Day for an Identity Check
The problem with the “mom job” description is that it boils down my worth to the sum of my to-do lists. It might make me feel more important for a little while, but soon I’m empty again.

The solution is to remember who I am, not what I do. As a Christian woman, my identity is united with Jesus Christ—his sinless life and perfect righteousness (2 Cor. 5:21). The beauty about finding my identity in Jesus is that I can stop obsessing about my identity altogether. It’s not about who I am. It’s about who he is. Jen Wilkin reminds us:

As long as we keep the emphasis on us instead of on a higher vision, we will take small comfort from discussions of identity. Our primary problem as Christian women is not that we lack self-worth, not that we lack a sense of significance or purpose. It’s that we lack awe.

Do you want to have an incredible Mother’s Day? Stand in awe of the One who made you a mother. Let each sticky kiss and messy card remind you of a few things about God: Every good gift is from the Father of lights (James 1:17). God’s strength is perfected in weak moms (2 Corinthians 12:9). He gives us the wisdom we so desperately need (James 1:5).

Now those are reasons to celebrate.

Day for Celebration
This outward, God-centered focus knocks our expectations for Mother’s Day back into place. It relieves the pressure of expecting a day that lives up to our valuation of motherhood. This day is about God’s faithfulness, not mine. Motherhood isn’t a job I’ve been hired for. It’s a calling I’ve been entrusted with. This turns a day of compensation into one of true celebration.

This Mother’s Day, I’m going to step down off the pedestal my kids so sweetly and clumsily set up for me, and celebrate alongside them. My value is in Christ, not in this day. So give me the breakfast in bed and all the spills that go with it. I want every messy reminder that God made me a mom.

Except for the restaurant experience. I can wait a few more years for that.

TheGospelCoalition. How to Not Ruin Your Own Mother's Day. Sara Wallace. May 13, 2017.

I have found myself at a loss for words when asked about how our Bolivia trip went, because there’s simply too much to say. The 8 days that we spent in Sucre and Santa Cruz were packed full of meaningful moments that I will never be able to describe fully. The only way I can give you a taste of the sweetness is to tell you about the people I met who impacted my heart in the biggest ways. One day you’ll meet these people in person, if not here then in heaven when we’ve finished our races together.

Our translators:

Cintia, Camilla (Cami), and Mauricio (Meow Meow). These three people became our dearest friends. They worked tirelessly to keep us fed and hydrated, to help us communicate with everyone around us, to make us feel at home, welcome and loved, to get to know us, to hear our stories and share their own, to pray with us and help us understand the culture we were in. They were with us through everything and served us so much more than we deserved (even on days when Cami felt sick and Mauri was bummed about the outcome of the Bolivia play-in game to the World Cup).

The FH Staff:

The FH Sucre office included over 30 people. Worshipping together (in both English and Spanish) during morning devotions was something that we all agreed gave us a little glimpse of heaven. These people were so warm and welcoming, worked so hard to communicate with us (even with our limited language), and put so much effort into helping us integrate into various churches, homes, savings groups, schools, and children’s clubs.

My biggest take away (at this moment) from the trip came from experiencing the Christ-centered love that the FH staff shows their community an a daily basis. These staff members are intelligent and capable and could move to more prosperous areas to find better jobs, make more money, or live in more security. Instead, they stay where they are planted because they love the people of Sucre. The beautiful thing about this is that these people are uniquely qualified to bring change in the Sucre community because they are part of it. I pray that the Lord will continue to bring opportunities for each of us to be part of His work in our own community.

The parents of Villa Margarita:

Most of the adults we interacted with during our home visits were women, due to the fact that many of their husbands were traveling hours away from the city to find work. Nothing about the lives of these women is easy. The women we met were strong, dedicated to their work, intentional in their relationships with each other, determined to give their children the best lives possible. They exemplified perseverance and fortitude and I pray that the Lord brings them rest and continues to bless the work of their hands.

The children of Villa Margarita:

By God’s grace, many of the children we met in Bolivia had hope for the future. You could see it in their eyes, you could feel it in their hugs, you could hear it in their excitement as they talked with us about their lives. Some of the older kids and teens were clearly feeling the weight of adulthood approaching and that was hard to see. These peers are the ones who weigh heaviest on my heart. They are being met with countless attacks from the enemy and from a broken world. I pray that our partnership (as individuals and as a church) with these young people and their families will be a tangible taste of hope for them. I pray that they will experientially know the love that Jesus has for them and that His love will continue to transform them and their communities. 

If you would like to be a part of the next trip to Bolivia, to experience first-hand what the Lord is doing in the Sucre community, reach out to anyone on the Missions team.