By Kristen Entwistle

The morning after my last boyfriend broke up with me, I went to church, and sang the words to the song Your grace is enough as I held back the tears from my own breaking heart.

“Your grace is enough, God?” I thought.  “Enough for what?  Enough to heal my broken heart, enough to soothe my weary soul? Enough to be the One to take away the outward scars, and change this sinner’s heart?  Enough to fill the loneliness, the empty spaces, and the void I long to be filled?  Enough if what I long for never happens?  Enough if the desires of my heart – the desires I know You have placed there – never come true?  Is Your grace really enough for me?”

I know that His grace is enough to cover all of my sins.  That His grace is enough to pay the price for the punishment I rightly deserve.  I know that His grace is enough to prepare a place for me where I will live in His presence for eternity. But when my world seems to fall apart – be it because of a broken relationship, an illness, the loss of a loved one, or anything else – and I lose sight of the big picture, do I still believe that His grace is enough?

Deep down, I know that His grace is enough – for everything.  Not just the big, salvation things.  But also the little, every day broken pieces – the breaking hearts and scrapes and bruises from people’s words, the lonely places and the times of doubt.  His grace is enough.

It is not easy, for me, to sit and wait on God.  His timing and His will.  To accept that everything has a bigger purpose, one that I may never fully understand.  To see, sometimes, that His grace really is enough for my broken heart, the lonely places, and the times of doubt.

Because as time goes on, he continually shows me that His grace is enough, His love is enough, HE is enough.  That doesn’t mean that the unfulfilled desires of my heart are easier to bear, or the lonely nights aren’t still lonely, or that people’s words don’t still batter and bruise me.  But His grace is enough, even still.

So I look for the places of thanksgiving, the smallest things.  I look for the times when He is showing me that He is enough – in the two-year old running down the aisle at church to come see me, in the grace others extend to me, in the friends He has placed in my life, in the community I am surrounded by.  I look for the things that remind me that He is enough, so when I find myself in places of doubt and sadness, I remember that He is enough. 

By Kristen Entwistle

Beep!  Beep!  Beep!  As the alarm clock blares its unforgiving tune in the morning and I swing my feet out of bed, greeted by the cold winter air, I start thinking about all of the things I have to do today.  I start getting caught up by the to-do lists, the frustrations at work, the things I want to do but never have time for, the dishes waiting for me in the sink, the people who need my attention, the dozens of medications and therapies that lie before me that day and every day, the hurting people around me, the family obligations, the church and Bible study duties that require my attention, the run I need to go on, the foods I should be eating rather than the ones I am eating, and the time I should be spending in the Word.

I get so caught up in my own little life and what’s ahead of me that day that I forget what’s behind me, what I’ve come through.  What God has brought me through. 

Perhaps you can relate. 

In the busyness of life and the to-do lists a mile long, I forget that God has moved in my life, and that He has been faithful.  I have seen His power in my life and in the lives of others.  I forget, on the dark days, the hard days, that He who has led me in will be faithful to lead me out, and that He’s done it before.

I’m reminded of Christ’s faithfulness through the stories of others.  Through the lives of other people.  And that brings me out of my own little world of heartache and pain, raising my eyes to heaven, reminding me that He has done the same for me.

So shout it from the rooftops, tell your friends, family, and strangers on the street – because your story might just be the one that reminds someone else that He has been faithful, and will continue to be faithful throughout all generations. 

By Kristen Entwistle

It’s easy for many of us to become worn down by the things of this life – the things that are hard, unfair, difficult, and exhausting (physically and mentally).

Right now I am just worn down.  Listen to this and tell me it doesn’t ring some bells in your life, now or in the past.

My life is broken, and I need to know that good can come of it.  I’ve seen it time and time again, but sometimes I lose hope that this is all worth it.  That it is worth it to let people into the deepest parts of my life and let them see that I am not perfect, that I struggle just like anyone else.

I know I need to lift my eyes up But I’m too weak Life just won’t let up

I can’t do any of this in my own strength – I have to rely on God to get through not only each day, but each hour.

So, heaven come and flood my eyes 

Let me see that there is a light in the dark world, that in some small way, my light can join with others to shine brightly, no matter how dim my light feels right now.  Give me a glimpse here on this earth that something better is coming.  Help me to trust You, no matter what life throws my way.  For I know that you are my Rock eternal, and that you are working in my life for your glory, even if it’s hard to see right now.  Even though I’m worn right now, I trust You to give me strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other, day after day.
Take heart, my friends, for He is the everlasting God, the one in whom we trust, who will sustain us even in the most difficult of times.

You will keep in perfect peace
those whose minds are steadfast,
because they trust in you.
Trust in the Lord forever,
for the Lord, the Lord himself, is the Rock eternal.

Isaiah 26:3-4

By Kristen Entwistle

One Sunday, we were looking in Sunday School at a passage in 2 Corinthians.  

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many.

2 Corinthians 1:3-11

The way that we talked about this passage that Sunday centered around God delivering us from situations that were uncomfortable so that we would be comfortable and able to comfort others, that God makes everything turn out “good”, comfortable, and perfect.  I’d like to challenge that premise.

Let me throw a scenario out there to you.  A friend has been recently diagnosed with cancer.  What do you think is going to comfort him or her more?  A) A friend who has never had medical problems of any sort telling them that God will heal them because He has promised to comfort us so that we can comfort others.  B) A friend who has a child with cancer who says that everything happens for a reason and we just have to trust that God knows what He’s doing.  C) A friend who has cancer, undergoing treatment, who says that God has promised to comfort us in everything; that doesn’t mean he’s going to take away the cancer and heal you, but that He will hold you up through all of it, such that someday, you’ll look back and see why.

I’ll let you decide who you’d rather hear from, but I’m going to throw my two cents in there.  I’d rather hear option C.  It’s real.  It’s honest.  And it’s comforting to know that someone else is going through this too.  I don’t think that the comfort Paul is talking about here equals complete healing (emotionally, physically, or otherwise).  Yes, I believe that God can heal every affliction, soften every heart, and cure every cancer.  But He doesn’t.  Because sometimes the comfort that others need, comes from a life just as broken, just as frayed at the edges, and hurting in the same way that they are.  I don’t think Paul is saying that everything is going to turn out good and that we will have to be physically or emotionally comfortable in order to be able to comfort others (pretty sure that thorn in his side prevented that for him).  I think the most helpful comfort comes from sincerity, love, and mutual brokenness.  You don’t have to have cancer to comfort someone with cancer.  But you do have to be human.  You have to be willing to listen and feel and love and help in any way you can.  That’s comforting.

And here’s the other thing that’s definitely true in my life:  God uses ALL things for His glory.  Not just the good things.  He uses the broken, the hurting, the sinning, the sick, the less fortunate – all for HIS glory.  He’s used my sickness in more ways that I can count, and in more magnitude than I ever could have imagined.  And my testimony would not be the same if He had chosen to heal me.  It would still be a testimony to His glory, but I think that the comfort I have received from Christ and His instruments here on earth have enabled me to be able to comfort others in many more situations and places than otherwise.

By Kristen Entwistle

As a kid, I wanted what every kid wants – to be normal.  I didn’t tell anyone about my disease.  I didn’t want anyone to see me differently, to pity me.  I didn’t want to answer all of the questions about the twenty to thirty pills I took every day or the treatments I did at home or why I saw the doctor so much more often than my healthy friends or why I was in the nurse’s office every day.  I wanted to be able to go over to a friend’s house without dragging medical equipment with me.  I wanted to be able to run around with my friends without coughing so much it sounded like I was hacking up a lung.  And so, for me, it was easier to just not talk about it.

Because it did make me different.  I had to grow up really fast.  I had to learn to take care of myself and my health.  I had to reconcile with a life expectancy nearly half of that of my friends and family.  I learned the science and the medicine, to be my own advocate in my health.  I learned to begin trusting God at the ripe young age of 5.  My friends thought I was the mature one, that I had it all figured out, that I got it.  But I was afraid of things just like they were, I had insecurities just like they did.  But I didn’t want their pity, I didn’t want to be different.  I didn’t talk about my CF.  I hid it under the rug as much as I could.  Because I’d seen the bad reactions to my disease: the people who turned and ran away from me because they didn’t want to understand, or couldn’t.  The people who I thought cared about me but really couldn’t see past the sickness.  The people who saw me differently, who made fun of me because of my disease.  The people who told me I couldn’t amount to anything because I was going to die young.  The ones who told me they couldn’t be my friend because I was just going to die and leave them here.  The ones who told me they could never love me because I was unlovable.

And so my comfort zone was not telling people.  My safety net was not letting anyone potentially be able to hurt me.  My very comfortable little wooden boat, with some holes, but it floated.  But then God called me out of it.

Remember the passage in Matthew 14 where Jesus is walking on the water and Peter steps out on the water to walk to him?

The Gospels do not record any hesitation on Peter’s part.  There was no, “Really, Jesus?  I don’t think I want to get out of the boat any more” or “Um, I think I’ve changed my mind.  I know who you are now.” or “How about just a toe, and I’ll hang on to the boat?”

Just like Peter, I was called out of my boat.  But I didn’t just step out of it.  It took God many, many times to get me to step out in faith, in boldness, and trust that He could use my story for good.

Because I didn’t think that I had a story.  I didn’t think that I had a testimony.  Because what could God have possibly done through a life so broken, so sick, with someone who had something wrong with them?  I heard other people’s testimonies in church – the drug addict who had been called out of addiction to become a pastor.  The woman who was led out of prostitution to become a missionary to those still in prostitution.  The ones who God had done amazing things through, the testimonies that made you want to lift up your hands in praise.

I didn’t have a testimony like that.  I was just a person with an early expiration date that couldn’t do anything for the Kingdom.  I thought that my struggles, my insecurities were my own and that no one else struggled with them too.  I thought that God could never use a person so broken as me.

But He does.  He uses broken pots of clay for His glory.  

My CF and the struggles it has brought have always been a part of my story.  But now it is so much more because I’ve seen God work through it.  I’ve seen him bring a mother to tears, accepting that the healing for her son she wanted was not coming, but that life was possible even when the healing doesn’t come.  I’ve seen him change the hearts of my co-workers, letting them see patients as people, not just diseases.  I’ve seen him encourage women who have been rejected, as I have, by a man, told I was not good enough to ever be loved because I was going to die young.  That no one could ever love me.  But that His love is so much greater.  I’ve seen Him use my words in so many ways that I could never have imagined, use me in many more ways that I ever expected.    

I can tell you this with certainty today: God is calling you out of your boat, out of your comfort zone.  I don’t know what your comfort zone is.  And I don’t know where God is calling you – to ministry, to reconciliation with a friend or with family, to sharing your story, to boldly going where you never thought you would.  But I do know that He is calling you out of your boat.  “Take courage!” He says.  “Don’t be afraid!”  Because God wouldn’t be calling you out of your boat unless He was going to be with you every step of the way.  Remember when Peter stepped out of the boat?  He kept His eyes on Jesus.  And when the wind and the waves frightened him and he thought he was going to drown, who was there to take his hand?  Jesus.

So, when you step out of your boat, whether it’s with all the gusto of a new adventure and no looking back or kicking and screaming all the way, look to the One who calms our fears, who is the author and perfecter of our faith, who commands even the wind and the waves, the One who died so that we might live.  Keep your eyes on Jesus, and boldly walk out in faith where He has called you.  And He will be there.  Right beside you, all the time.

When you step out of your boat, you’re stepping out into the great unknown, where feet may fail, where fear surrounds you.

So this is my prayer today, as I pray it is yours as well:

Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever you would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my savior

So I will call upon your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours

And you are mine

By Kristen Entwistle

I came across this post from the Boston Marathon Bombings two years ago, and thought I might share it again today.

It may be time for bed, but I can’t turn my mind off.  As I watch the explosion that rocked the finish line of the Boston Marathon over and over on the television screen, I am reminded of the hurt that is in this world, the evil that is allowed to endure.  But as I browse my Facebook news feed, I am also reminded of hope.

The bombs that went off today, no matter who set it up, no matter who carried it out, no matter why it happened, it is wrong.  Wrong to take innocent lives, wrong to change forever others, wrong on a day which is so triumphant for so many people.  The horrific events of today are lined right now by confusion, chaos, unanswered questions, sadness, and so much more.

But throughout my newsfeed, there is post after post about praying for Boston, from those who are Christians and those who are not.  There are links upon links to stories about the bombs, pictures of people carrying the wounded, treating the wounded, helping those who could not help themselves.  And there are links to massive posts on a Craigslist-like site, offering free housing to those visiting Boston tonight – couches, beds, food for those who have nothing today.  This is the hope I speak of – in the wake of the unspeakable tragedy today, the race dedicated to the victims of the Newtown shootings – there are people who are opening their homes, their wallets, their hearts to those in need.  There are the skilled hands of the doctors and surgeons who have been working tirelessly to help those who are hurt.  There are the psychologists who are talking with people, counseling them through this time.  There are runners who continued running from the finish line to Mass General to give blood.  There are the firefighters, policemen, and race volunteers who have been working to keep people safe.  There are thousands, dare I say millions, of people who are praying.

Psalm 46

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.^[c]

By Kristen Entwistle

When my Bible study co-leader, April, and I sat down one week near the end of March last year, we thought it might be a good idea to send out short devotionals to our group every week during the summer when we were not meeting together regularly.  We threw around some ideas of devotionals that we could use, but it wasn’t until I suggested that I write the devotionals that we really started to have an idea take place.

A few weeks before we started sending out the devotionals, I began writing and every week I sent out the devotional on a different fruit of the Spirit to our group.  After the study had concluded for the summer, some of the members of my Bible study group encouraged me to publish the series of devotionals.  After many months of prayer, I finally took the plunge and began editing the devotionals into a somewhat cohesive study.  And that, dear reader, is how this book ended up in your hands.

I am a sinner, saved by grace, just as you are.  I am a child of God, just as you are.  And I, just like you, am striving to walk this life by the Spirit.  What a blessing that we are able to do that side by side and encourage each other in it.

I pray that this study would encourage and challenge you, as it did me.  I pray that you will continue to allow God to cultivate His character in you, growing the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control in your life.

Now available in print and Kindle editions at Amazon

By Kristen Entwistle

I have many friends who are fitness fanatics.  They have Facebook groups and workout groups and fitness families and are committed to eating healthier, staying fit, and encouraging others to do the same.  It’s a great thing, and I’m grateful for these friends and their enthusiasm for living better physical lives.

It’s not just our physical bodies that we need to work out, though.  We need to strengthen our Spiritual lives as well.

Jesus’ proclamation of the greatest commandment that we’ve been studying this week is found in almost all of the Gospels, but the one we’ve been in is in Mark 12.  There are four parts to the greatest commandment, but the one we’re going to focus on today is the fourth: loving the Lord with all of our strength

Consider the disciples for a moment.  Matthew 4 records Jesus calling James, John, Peter, and Andrew to be His disciples.  All that the Gospel records Jesus telling them is this: “Follow me!  I will make you fishers of men.”

I don’t know about you, but when Jesus called me to follow Him, and pretty much every day since, I’ve questioned His plan.  I’ve said, “Wait a minute, God.  Do you really mean for me to do that?  Are you sure you don’t mean this instead?”  If I had been even just a fly on the wall on those boats with Peter, James, John and Andrew, I think I would have had a few questions before I just up and left my nets, my boat, and my dad.  Oh, and my job, my way to live, the only thing I’d really ever known – to follow this guy who was just starting His ministry.

The disciples left everything they had, everything they knew, to follow Christ.  And the Gospels record no hesitation on their part.  No questions.  Just obedience.  I’d like to suggest that this action by the disciples, of giving up everything they had, knew and wanted to follow Christ is the best example of loving the Lord with all of our strength.  The disciples’ strength was what they knew, what they were good at: for Peter, Andrew, James, and John, it was fishing.  They turned their talents from fishing for fish, to fishing for men.  They gave Christ everything they had.  But they didn’t turn from fishing for fish to fishing for men overnight.  They had to learn how to do it, to walk with Christ along the dusty road, see Him heal people and teach and turn over tables in the Temple and feed five thousand people with just a few loaves and fish.  They had to exercise and learn their strength in order to love God with all of their strength.

It’s not necessarily about what you bring to the table, what you’re good at, or what your job is.  Those may be part of your strength, but there’s more to it than that.  You’ve got to walk with Christ and let Him teach you, help you to build up your strength so that you can love Him with it, serve Him with it.

Think of it like my fitness friends think about staying in shape – you have to keep at it, do it day after day.  You have to go to the gym in order to build up those muscles.  If you’re going to run a marathon, you have to train.

If you’re going to love the Lord with all of your strength, you’ve got to build up that strength.  So read the Word of God, study it, memorize it, let it permeate your speech and your actions.  Pray unceasingly.  Give thanks.  Put on the armor of God every morning.

And with His strength, you will be able to love the Lord with all of your strength. 

Be sure to check out the Study Resources tab for all of this week’s Bible study materials including the video and discussion questions!

By Kristen Entwistle

Wondering why you haven’t seen anything on this blog for a while?  Well, it’s because God has been at work, and all of the content that was here is MOVING!  Long story short, God has been pressing on my heart to start offering FREE Online Bible Studies and to open up my blog to a larger audience.  The first Bible Study will launch in March, so don’t miss it!

Where to subscribe: Website, Facebook, or Twitter.

Why to subscribe: Well, you don’t have to.  But I’d love it if you did.  🙂  And share it with your friends, family, etc.

Thanks!