You are Loved Archives - Jodie Berndt

Make Your Home in God’s Love

09.23.2022

“Home.”

At its most basic level, your home is the place where you live: your house, your apartment, even your city or town. But the word carries a deeper meaning as well. The dictionary defines home as the place where our “domestic affections are centered.” Our home is a big part of what forms us. What fills us. What captures our heart.

In John 15:9, Jesus offers a remarkable invitation. He says we can live in his love. Some translations use the word abide. Others say remain. A few say continue, or dwell. I like how The Message puts Jesus’ words: “Make yourselves at home in my love.”

Christ’s love, in other words, can be what forms us and fills us. It can be what captures our heart. Just like the Father delights in the Son, Jesus delights in our company. It doesn’t matter who we are or what we’ve done; nothing can separate us from God’s love! (Romans 8:38-39)

And yet…we hang back. We have the opportunity to relish our status as Christ’s beloved, but we don’t. Why not?

Three Barriers to Receiving God’s Love

There may be any number of reasons why we don’t abide in Christ’s love—why we fail to settle down, relax, and make ourselves at home there—but here are three of the biggest barriers to our thriving in connection with Christ.

For one thing, we know ourselves. We know where we’ve blown it. We know how unworthy we are. And so, unwilling to step out from under our shame, we (mistakenly) conclude that Christ’s invitation is not meant for us.

Or maybe our stumbling block is that we think we have to earn God’s approval. Sure, it is his grace that saves us, but what about after that? We think it’s up to us to please God by what we think, say, and do—and when we slip up or fall short, we figure we’ll fall out of God’s favor and forfeit his love.

Then, too, we may find it easier to give love than to receive it. Giving makes us feel valuable and important; receiving puts us in a more vulnerable position. Receiving requires a type of surrender—which can be kind of awkward. We don’t like feeling needy; we’d rather be self-sufficient. We want to be in control.

All of these things—the shadow of shame, the sense that we need to earn God’s approval, and the desire for sufficiency instead of surrender—are lies that can keep us from experiencing the fullness of joy God wants us to have. But when we stop and consider the glorious weight of Christ’s words—“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you”—everything changes. We see the truth.

The truth is this: Jesus knows you. Jesus loves you. And the moment you turn in his direction, he flings wide the door, opens his arms, and says, “Welcome home.”

So what about you?

Where have you struggled to receive Christ’s love? How might embracing his affection—believing that you truly are his beloved—impact how you think about yourself? About others?

Take some time this week to reflect on God’s lavish affection for you. Ask him to open your heart to receive all that he wants to give. And trust him to come and settle you down as you make your home in his love.

Heavenly Father,

Thank you for your promise that nothing in all creation can separate me from your love. (Romans 8:38-39)

Show me how to shape my worries into prayers, letting you know my concerns. Settle me down and teach me to live in the truth as I make my home in your love. (Philippians 4:6-7; John 15:9)

Amen

❤️

Note: A version of this post appeared earlier this week at Club31Women, a place you’ll find books, blogs, and resources designed to strengthen your faith and enrich your family life. Click here to read a recent post about how we can turn our hearts toward God, and here for five strategies you can use to make your physical home a more peaceful and welcoming place. And if you want to know more about making your home in God’s love, you’ll find 31 different entry points in this easy-read book: Praying the Scriptures for Your Life: 31 Days of Abiding in the Presence, Provision, and Power of God

For all the Dads who have ever hung a mooring ball off their roof…

06.14.2019

Dad is such a doofus.

At least that what today’s advertisers and sit-com producers (who often portray fathers as being oblivious, emotionally disconnected, or just plain incompetent) would have us believe. Even the good guys–the TV Dads whose hearts are in the right place–are almost always making some sort of mess that Mom has to come in and clean up.

Honestly though? The real-life fathers I know are nothing like that. The fathers I know are smart. Strong. Patient. And kind.

And in general, they are very resourceful.

Just this week, for example, a friend invited me to survey her husband’s handiwork. After discovering a leak in their roof, this dad had stepped in, installing a stop-gap measure until the pros could get there. The pitch was both slippery and steep, but this guy had managed to hang an industrial-size tarp over half of their house, weighting it down with a cooler (empty), a bottle of ginger ale (full), and a mooring ball.

“All the tarp anchors are plastic!” he beamed. “I didn’t want anything to break if something went wrong.”

(Because what could possibly go wrong?)

Looking up at the mooring ball dangling down from the eaves, I was reminded of the time Robbie fixed our broken shower head–temporarily–with duct tape and our cheese grater. I love that man.

So to all of the can-do fathers out there, can I just say THANK YOU? You make life so much more interesting than it would otherwise be.

And for all of those times you’ve protected and provided, listened and loved, been the cheerleader as well as the coach…(as well as those times when you’ve blown it–and trust me, we moms have been there)…you should know how God feels towards you.

Here’s how the Bible puts it:

God will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.

That’s Hebrews 6:10. And it’s true; God sees all the work and the love you pour into your people–and he won’t forget it. And neither will we.

(Even if we sometimes forget to say thank you.)

Happy Father’s day. You are loved.

💙

Heavenly Father,

Show your love to our husbands and fathers, even as they have loved us.

Help them stand firm, letting nothing move them. Equip them to give themselves fully to the work that you’ve called them to do, knowing that their labor in the Lord is not in vain. (1 Corinthians 15:58)

Amen.

The Power of Hope

04.19.2019

As long as matters are really hopeful, hope is mere flattery or platitude. It is only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength at all.

That’s G.K. Chesterton. And I’ve been mulling his words all week long. Because we know Easter’s coming–we have reason to hope–but what about those early believers? To Christ’s friends and his followers, things must have looked hopeless. Their savior—their closest companion—had been brutally murdered. It seemed inconceivable that He’d live again. And when I see Mary at the tomb, mistaking the Lord for a gardener, I get it. I would have, too.

“It’s only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength at all.”

If you’ve ever stood facing the bleakness—in a marriage that’s broken beyond repair, a diagnosis where the doctors have done all they can, a child who’s walked away from his faith—you know exactly what Chesterton meant. Hope needs to be more than a platitude. It has to be some sort of anchor when it looks like there’s nothing to hold.

Hope has to work.

Which is, of course, what Easter is all about.

Scripture tells us that God, in his great mercy, gives us new birth into a living hope through Christ’s resurrection. It says that hope will not disappoint. And that hope is an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God.

Isn’t that a fabulous image? Hope really is a lifeline–a strength we can count on, no matter how hopeless things look.

And as we mark Good Friday today and look forward to Easter, I’m praying for you. I don’t know where you are or what you might be facing, but I know the God of hope. And I know that He’s faithful.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him.

You are loved. ❤️

A Blue Marble, a Beach Book, and Abundance

06.08.2018

“Can you take our picture?”

Virginia and I were walking on a nearly deserted stretch of beach when a young couple ran up and asked for our help. They were friendly and cute (fresh out of Tulane), and we gladly obliged. And afterwards, they had one more question:

“Can we give you something?”

Virginia and I exchanged a look. “Sure…”

We walked up to their beach camp and the fellow got out a little jar full of marbles. Blue ones. Like this:

“This is part of movement,” he explained, popping the lid and giving us each one of his stash. “There was a professor who had cancer and resolved to live life to the full, even during his chemo. And every day that he did it–every day he felt like he’d experienced abundance–he put a blue marble into a jar. So now we are doing the same thing. And I hope you will, too.”

I’m a little hazy on the details (like, I’m not sure if the professor is still alive, or if the beach couple even knew him), but anytime anybody talks up abundance, I’m in. Especially when it’s paired with words like “life to the full,” which (if you’ve been around this blog for awhile) you KNOW takes me straight to this verse:

The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. I came that they might have life and have it abundantly. (John 10:10, ESV)

That’s Jesus, outlining the whole reason he came. The whole reason he died. The whole reason why we can live free.

So…is the “blue marble movement” a Jesus-y thing? I don’t know. I looked it up on Instagram (@bluemarbleday) and the organizers cite the Bible as one of their texts (along with a few other not-Bible books), and the three tenets that undergird what they are doing–encouraging gratitude, promoting hope, and kindling love–are three things I’m pretty sure Jesus would like. I do too.

But the lack of any overt mention of Christ got me thinking. Not about the Blue Marble People (cuz I think what they are doing is great; who doesn’t need to be more intentional about things like gratitude?), but about my own self.

And about God.

And about whether my idea of abundance parallels his.

Like, if I were going to put a marble in my jar at the end of the day, it would probably be because I’d enjoyed some combo of coffee, exercise, time spent with people I like, and time spent with God. And if I had done something truly significant–something like, say, moving my winter clothes out of the closet so that the cute summer tops could come in (a task I have yet to accomplish in 2018)–I might even give myself two, and call it a Blue Blue Marble Day.

But is that what Jesus would say? Like, is checking projects off the to-do list part of his “abundant life” vision? Is treating myself to a venti-sized latte what he meant when he said I could live life “to the full”? Is it really all about getting…exercise?

I kinda doubt it.

(Okay, I seriously doubt it.)

But I wasn’t sure, exactly, what Jesus would say. And then, wouldn’t you know (and I am not making this up), I picked up the book I had brought to the beach and read this:

The root word for “abundantly” [in John 10:10] is perissos, meaning “exceedingly more, going past the expected limit.” The word for”life” is zoe, and it encompasses our physical presence and future eternal existence.

(Seriously? I picked a beach read with Greek words? Sheesh. I didn’t know. The cover is pink!)

The author went on, contrasting the world’s definition of abundance with God’s: If abundance is exceedingly more, going past the expected limit of life, we’ve got to check our hearts to be sure we’re not just expecting God to produce exceedingly more, going past the limit of stuff. It’s the age-old struggle: Do we want more of what God can give us, or do we want more of God?

(Ahhh. We’ve been there. Several times, in fact–including back in 2016, when I wrote a post called The Gifts or the Giver.)

Obviously, we have to want God more than stuff. But what happens when we don’t? What happens when we turn to things like Netflix or date nights (or, in my case, tidy sock drawers and lattes) to make us feel good? To fill in the gaps? To help us relax or re-charge?

Here’s what happens: “When we take our needs to the temporary, less-than-perfect comforts of this world, we are left feeling empty and wanting more.”

At least that’s what Jess Connolly says. She’s the gal who wrote my beach book, which is all about pursuing holiness (instead of just rule-keeping), embracing grace (the transformative kind, not the stuff that just winks at our sin), and stepping into abundance (as in, the for-real life God offers). The book is called Dance, Stand, Run: The God-Inspired Moves of a Woman on Holy Ground. And, for whatever freaky reason, it’s just $3.79 on Amazon right now, so if you want it, click here.

And…what if you also want some blue marbles? I know I do–I’m getting some for all of my kids. I’m gonna wrap ’em up in a bag and attach a John 10:10 tag, and tell them what I’m telling myself:

This summer, when you find yourself facing a need (whether it’s a desire for peace, or more energy, or just to feel better and more confident about what life looks like right now), press into Jesus. Trust him to supply what you lack. Take him at his word–that is, give him the chance to show you who he is, and what he can do.

Expect exceedingly more.

And then, at the end of the day, give yourself a blue marble to remind you how all-sufficient God is, and how incredibly much you are loved.

Heavenly Father,

Thank you that Jesus came so that we could have life, and have it abundantly. Help us take hold of that promise, knowing that as we draw near to you, you will draw near to us. Let us find our deepest satisfaction and joy not in your gifts, but in you. (John 10:10, James 4:8, Psalm 90:14).

Amen.

Don’t Let Anyone Call You “Big Tina”

05.25.2018

I’ll admit it. I laughed out loud when I opened the paper and saw Dilbert this week:

Big Tina. That’s funny.

At least it was at first. But then I got to thinking. Nobody (well, at least nobody I know—no girl, anyway) wants to be called “Big Tina.” No woman wants to be called Big anything.

Case in point: When I called my college pal, Annesley, to ask if I could borrow her name for our newborn daughter, she readily agreed–as long as I didn’t start calling her “Big Annesley.” Or even “Old Annesley.”

(We went with “Original Annesley,” which is perfect. On so many levels.)

I don’t, as a rule, find deep spiritual lessons in Dilbert. But when I considered Big Tina’s apparent reluctance to be saddled with that moniker, I thought: You go, Girl! Don’t let anybody call you something you don’t want to be called. Do not receive that!

Because we do that, don’t we? Whether it’s a label someone else gives us, or an accusation that comes from inside our own heads, all too often we accept the name and start wearing it–even if it’s a name we don’t want. A name like Unworthy. Or Ashamed.

Not good enough. Forgotten.

Unloved.

But…that’s not who God says we are. He knows us better than anyone–he knows exactly how we are formed–and he calls us his “masterpiece.”

He says we are precious and honored in his sight. And that, as we look to him, our faces are never covered with shame. And that he will never leave us.

He calls us “Beloved.”

Why? It’s not because of anything we’ve done. It’s just because we are his.

Which, for me, can sometimes be hard to wrap my head around. Like, on the days when I blow it, does God still love me as much as on the days (well, the day) when I get things mostly right? Does he really want to be with me, even when I don’t want to be with myself? Is there something I could do, some gold-star behavior, that would make God love me more?

The answers, for those who don’t like rhetorical questions, are: Yes, yes, and no. There is nothing I could do–nothing any of us could do–to make God love us any more (or any less) than he already does.

I was reminded of God’s love–and how he feels about us–a month or so ago, when I visited a friend in Atlanta. Her eldest daughter is all grown up and married, so I got to sleep in her old room. And when I got up in the morning, I was greeted with this:

Pardon the PJs, but honestly? I can’t think of a better way to start the day than by heading into the bathroom and seeing these reminders of who we are in Christ! We don’t even have to brush our teeth before God says he’s “enthralled by our beauty.” And if we’re worried about something (like, say, we can already tell that it’s not a good hair day) we see evidence of his love: “Cast all your anxiety on him,” the card reads, “because he cares for you.” (That’s 2 Peter 5:7 if you can’t make it out in the pic.)

If you like this idea (of if you think your kids might), I’ve pulled nine “identity markers” out of the Bible and put them in printable form for you here. These cards aren’t fancy (you’ll have to cut ’em up by yourself, and add your own flower-power stickers, or whatever), but they offer a window into who we really are, in God’s eyes:

And please note. These verses are not like those faux-motivating things you put on your fridge–like the pic of the skinny girl in the bikini–to make you think “This could be you!” The words on these cards are already fulfilled. And they will always be true (even if you do eat that last piece of cheesecake).

So the next time the Father of Lies comes along and tries to call you Big Tina (or worse), set him straight.

Look him straight in the eye and tell him your name is Beloved.

❤

Sharp Dressed Man

10.20.2017

Once upon a time, when my man put on his wetsuit, it meant there were waves. And his Bean boots? A sure sign there were ducks.

Now, though, these wardrobe staples are more apt to mean there is mildew.

I keep trying to tell Robbie that pressure washing is kind of a sport. He’s less than convinced.

(And he did not really want to smile for this pic, which only makes me love him even more.)

The bad news is that I snapped this photo right after the pressure washer blew up. The good news (at least for me) is that seeing Robbie out there reminded me of a post I wrote two years ago and, since I am on the road this week, you’re getting a rerun. Hope that’s okay – and that you’ll read this and still know how much you are loved!

Pressure Washed Love

Hillary’s wedding is just two months away, and with an at-home reception, you can imagine the Honey-Do list Robbie wakes up to most weekends. Some of it, though, he thinks up all by himself.

Like pressure washing the dock.

Now, I don’t generally like things that look all perfect and new, so this is not a project I would have encouraged. But when Robbie tactfully observed that we’d passed “vintage chic” a few years back and were now headed into the “slip-n-slide” stage of outdoor decorating, I saw his point. Weddings have enough natural pitfalls without sending Grandma and her wine glass into the bay, midway through the party.

While I mulled that one over, Robbie suited up in his duck boots, his hat, and his SPF shirt and headed out to the garage. I’d always thought pressure washing was basically a grown up version of playing in the sprinkler, and I wondered why he needed all the gear. It was a warm and sunny day; why not do it barefoot?

“If this water cuts across your toes,” he explained, “it’ll saw ’em right off.”

Okay then.

If you’ve read Gary Chapman’s book about Love Languages, you’ll know what I mean when I say that Acts of Service is tops on my list, and when my man came back in the house after a couple of hours – absolutely filthy and only half-way finished – I thought he was awesome. He was also exhausted, and so when he went off to work on Monday morning I went out to the dock, thinking I’d surprise him and finish the job.

Yeah, so pressure washing is harder than it looks.

Just starting the machine (which involves one of those ghastly pull cords designed to make men feel manly) was challenging enough, but if you’ve never pulled the trigger on one of those things, well. It took every ounce of my fourth-grade gymnastics training not to fall overboard from the kick.

Eventually, though, I got the hang of it, and I managed to do another mile or two of boards. There was no way I could finish before sunset, though, and my spirits sagged. Knowing that Acts of Service is not Robbie’s love language, but wanting to send the message anyway, I decided to try Words of Encouragement:

Now, if pressure washing a dock is hard, let me assure you that pressure washing a sentence is harder. I tried block letters first, but that involved stopping and starting the nozzle-gun, and the kick got me every time. So I resorted to cursive, which I hear is no longer being taught in schools. Which is a real tragedy, given how had it is to pressure wash “I love you” in print.

On the plus side, the nice thing about pressure washing is that, once you have a good grip (and you stop getting tangled up in the hose), you have a lot of time to think. And as I watched the boards go from slimy to clean, I thought about Jesus. I thought about how he pretty much pressure washed our whole lives through his work on the cross. I thought about how his arms must have hurt, even more than mine did, as he hung there. And I thought how cool it was that he could do the job once and for all and say, “It is finished,” without having to suit up again the next weekend.

Most of all I thought about how, in that once and forever act of service, he wrote “I love you” on our hearts.

Friday Prayer: You are Loved

01.30.2015

Back in December, I wrote a blog about a message that had been painted on Beta Bridge at the University of Virginia. Driving through Charlottesville yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice that the bridge – which sometimes gets repainted twice in the same night – still had the same message: YOU ARE LOVED.

Clearly, it’s a promise that means a lot to the students. It’s a promise that also means a lot to me, and it’s one that calls to mind the beautiful words Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans, as he sought to reassure them that, despite the trouble and hardship they faced, God was on their side, and he was working for their good.

Today, if you need help remembering that God is for you – and that nothing can separate you from his love – turn these words into a prayer. Or pray them for someone you love.

Beta Bridge is going to get repainted one of these days, but the words that are on there right now will never change.

You are loved.

Heavenly Father, help _____ be convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love that you have for us in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)

You are Loved

12.10.2014

Like many of you, I have been following the University of Virginia rape story, at sensational, horrific, and (it turns out) inaccurate account published last month by Rolling Stone magazine. As a U.Va. alum with three Wahoo daughters (two have graduated; Virginia is in her third year there now), the school is dear to my heart, and the students dearer still.

Even with the magazine’s reporting now discredited, almost everyone agrees that there are problems that still need fixing: Students drink too much, the “hookup culture” contributes to confusing relationships, and sexual misconduct – while arguably not the norm at U.Va. – certainly takes place, and no matter how you parse the statistics (and there have been dozens of studies trotted out), one rape is one rape too many.

If you’ve read even a handful of my blogs, you know that I don’t use this space for social or political commentary and – despite having a host of strong and not necessarily well-informed opinions – I don’t plan to start spouting off now. I wouldn’t even mention the story except for this photo, which Virginia texted to me early yesterday morning:

YOU ARE LOVED.

That’s message on Beta Bridge, the oft-painted University landmark that doubles as billboard for parties, charity events and often at least this year – community’s grief.

How fitting that words – YOU ARE LOVED – would show up during Advent, season the space between heaven and earth seems to shrink, time we mortals may stop, even just for a moment, to consider how God sees the world. How he sees us. And he longs to breathe new life in our lives, to fill our hearts with hope, and to show us incredibly much are loved.

You are loved. Amid a cacophony from finger pointing – It’s the fraternites’ fault! It’s the administration’s fault! It’s parents the government! The police! – this is at message that cuts through the noise. It’s a message the offers hope. It’s message U.Va. needs to hear.