What’s your confession?

What’s your confession?

Confession: I struggle believing that God is benevolent. As a little girl, I suspected that God wasn’t really paying attention to me, but then after my parents died when I was 20, I decided that God was out to get me—he downright disliked me. Losing my parents was enough to convince me that the prosperity gospel wasn’t true; my parents were good Christians and good people, but they still died. I was a good girl and did everything right, going to a Christian college and refraining from drinking and smoking. Oh, sure, I wasn’t perfect, but I believed the praise songs we sang in chapel and even if I didn’t love-love Jesus, I certainly wanted to love him. Yet my parents still died.

Kara’s Collection: The Beautiful Dance

Kara’s Collection: The Beautiful Dance

God and his goodness does not depend on my acknowledgement of that goodness. His refuge does not exist because I state its existence. No, his goodness and refuge are true because He says they are true. But guess what: I have deeply experienced both his goodness and refuge in a way that I simply cannot keep quiet about them.

The Promise of God with Us

The Promise of God with Us

At our school we have a 6th grade camp. There are no parents—just counselors and teachers. The kids go off for 3 days and 2 nights. They try some new outdoor activities and have a blast. We've been planning for it all year, but as it neared, I think everyone got a little bit nervous. Kids and parents alike. It's not that we're unable to be separated, it's just that we love these kids and we miss them when they're gone. I admit to being this pathetic parent!

Kara’s Collection: Radiant Living

Kara’s Collection: Radiant Living

I imagine you look upon my story and think I am anything but saved from troubles. Look closer. I absolutely have been rescued. Beautifully rescued and restored in a way that is unmistakable. My story has been written, the conclusion is sure—as sure as it is for you? But my life is kept, beautifully kept in heaven. Sure I fear, I struggle when my family has to look upon my deep pain and suffering. But I do not suffer without hope. No, I get to reflect the radiant grace that consumes my going to Jesus. I get to lift my face without fear—I know where these hard steps lead me. I know exactly where they lead. It doesn’t mean the walking isn’t painful; no, they hurt, but they are not without meaning.