up in sacrifice.” Elisabeth Elliot makes this statement in her book, Suffering is Never for Nothing. How simple, and yet how difficult to truly come to grips with.

God is love, love is sacrifice, and those sacrifices in the name of love cause us to suffer. Love and suffering are inextricably bound together. You can’t have one without the other, and our best illustration of it is the cross. Jesus went through just about the most suffering a person possibly can go through on the cross. He was humiliated, beaten, bloody, and broken. He died very publically for all to see. He was spat on, betrayed, and completely crushed.

When I was pregnant with Piper, the craziest idea to wrap my head around was that she felt so far away and yet she was literally right with me all the time. It’s hard to reconcile those feelings: that your child, being grown inside your body, feels so far away because it take nine months to grow them. You can’t hold them. You can’t see them. You can’t track their progress outside of your own growing belly and the occasional scheduled sonogram. Sure, you feel your baby kick and move around inside you, and you talk to them constantly, but for some reason, in my brain, it always felt like my daughter was a million miles away. Until she was born, then POP! All of a sudden, she was real and there and bigger than I could imagine being stuffed up inside my belly.

I don’t know about you, but my prayer life could use a refresh. Between my family, being pregnant again, work, and everything in between, I can slack in that department. Of course, I pray with my daughter and here and there, but sometimes, my prayers can be weak. They can become the same phrases, needs, and topics. That’s common. I think if you polled a group of people and they were being really honest, most would say the same. So I know I’m not alone in saying that my prayers could most definitely be deeper. I don’t want the Lord to see me as someone who checks in briefly with the same, old, tired pleasantries and then moves on to the next thing.

We’ve been at this for many years: since August of 2017. Over the years, Christmas has become an ever-increasing difficult topic to unpack over and over. Each year, I worry about how I can make it different, and put it in a slightly different vein than the years before. And I’ll admit, some of our Christmas devotions are my absolute favorite; finding completely new things to make Christmas and God brand new all over again. So this year, I was concerned over how I’d be able to pull it off all over again. And then I thought: Why not take a non-Christmas passage and relate it back to the Christmas story. So, for the next few weeks, I’d like to experiment with you and see what we can discover together by taking Psalm 23– one of the most recognized and culturized passages of scripture– and see if we can view it through the lens of Jesus’ birth to see anything new.

Anyone ever felt forgotten by the Lord? Don’t worry, if you're sitting there with both hands and a foot in the air, I’m right there with you. And so was David. David felt forgotten by God. He felt like God had completely withdrawn from him; like no matter how long or loud he cried out for the Lord to hear him, he was still met with dead silence. David had been without God’s counsel for so long that he felt like he had to start turning to himself for answers, which only resulted in more sorrow in his heart.

How do we follow Jesus? Recently, I’ve come to learn that the answers are so simple: to follow Jesus, we must look at him and remain behind Him. These lessons are thanks to the endlessly cool Eric Gilmore, who I had the unique opportunity to spend a Saturday with at a School of His Presence conference. It seems elementary, but I’m starting to learn that we tend to try and complicate the simple truths of God’s beautiful gospel. At the end of the day, our heady qualifications and lofty, theological thoughts are not the prerequisites to living a life submitted to Christ.