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When my boys were little, I homeschooled my second youngest in 4K. I was working out of town at the time and would take my younger two with me—my parents helped care for them while I worked. And those half-days of 4K just weren’t going to work logistically. But honestly, my heart wasn’t ready to send my sweet little boy off to school yet. So, we decided to homeschool for that year. And I tried my best to make learning fun (and included my 3 year old in the learning). Each week, I chose a children’s book and built a whole theme around it—activities, art projects, songs, everything. The very first book we chose was The Three Little Pigs. We went all in. We had stuffed pigs, pig crafts, songs about pigs—and because I’m a photographer, I even made “pig costumes” for my boys. Overalls, pig ears, curly tails… it was adorable. And of course, did a photoshoot! Those photos are still some of my favorites to this day. But that simple children’s story—about three little pigs and a big bad wolf—has stayed with me all these years. Because it’s more than a fairy tale. It’s a story about building. About foundation. About what happens when the storms—or the wolves—come.  Maybe you remember the story from your childhood: One pig built his house of straw, one of sticks, and one of bricks. And when the wolf came to huff and puff, only one house stood firm—the one built strong, steady, and secure. And Jesus told a story just like that. “Those who hear My words and put them into practice are like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When the flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built.” — Luke 6:48 The question is-- What kind of house am I building? What kind of house are you building? Because storms will come. The enemy will huff and puff. Life will shake us. The Bible doesn’t say if the floods come—it says when. And what we’ve built our lives on—what we’ve trusted in—will be revealed. In Haggai 1, God “blew away” what His people built because their priorities were out of order. They were building straw houses—temporary, fragile, misplaced in purpose. He reminded them that nothing in this world is unshakable except His kingdom. Christine Caine wrote in Unshakeable: “Everything in our world that can be shaken will be shaken. And yet the Bible assures us that it doesn’t matter what happens politically, morally, socially, or economically—if we have Christ in us, if we have the kingdom of God within us, His kingdom is unshakable.” That’s what I want my life to look like. Not easily swayed. Not blown down. A life that stands when the world shakes. An unshakable faith built on the Rock.  “All of creation will be shaken and removed, so that only unshakable things will remain.” — Hebrews 12:27 The Greek word saleuo means “to shake up, to agitate, to be unsettled.” But just a verse later, Hebrews 12:28 calls God’s kingdom asaleutos—“immovable, fixed, cannot be shaken.” That’s the contrast. The straw house versus the stone house. The temporary versus the eternal. “Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.” — Psalm 62:6 That’s what I want for my heart—to be a house that stands, even when the wind howls. Here’s the thing about strong houses: the foundation is the part nobody sees. Have you ever watched coral grow underwater? Tiny invertebrates—polyps—work silently, unseen, building coral reefs piece by piece. Over time, those unseen layers become the foundation of entire islands. Someday, plants, animals, and even humans will live on what they quietly built beneath the surface. That’s what faith-building looks like. It’s slow, unseen, sometimes exhausting work. It’s done in the quiet moments with God. In the tears and prayers no one else knows about. But each moment, each act of obedience, each “yes” to Jesus lays another brick. And brick by brick, you’re building something that lasts-- a house that can’t be blown down, pushed over, or shaken loose. A foundation that will hold your family, your future, and your faith for generations to come.  Listen to the Podcast here: When it comes to laying bricks? You can’t rush it. Just like a builder prepares the ground, mixes the mortar, lays each corner brick, checks the level line, and cuts pieces to fit—so we must be intentional in laying the foundation of our faith. We clear away the debris—the distractions and idols. We level the ground with repentance. We align each brick with God’s Word, the plumb line of truth. We seal it with prayer, and we let His Spirit hold it all together. That’s what it means to build on the Rock. Because straw and sticks—those are the created things. The material. The temporary. The comfortable. But brick… brick is eternal. Brick is the Word. Brick is Jesus. John Piper once said, “God often uses the shaking of life to expose the true nature of our faith. What remains after the shake is the proof of our foundation.” And Charles Spurgeon wrote, “The shaking is not to destroy us, but to reveal what is true and steadfast. In times of turmoil, cling to God and trust in His foundation.” So maybe today, the Lord is inviting you—and me—to do a little foundation work. To dig down deep. To trade the straw and sticks for something lasting. To choose faith that won’t blow away when life huffs and puffs. Let’s build on the Rock. Let’s be the house that stands.  A Prayer For You Father, Help us build our lives on You—the solid Rock. When the winds come and the world shakes, remind us that Your kingdom is unshakable. Teach us to lay each brick with faith, obedience, and trust. And when the shaking comes, may our hearts remain steadfast in You. In Jesus’ name, Amen. Blessings, Elizabeth 
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Have you ever stopped, just for a moment, to really listen to the birds? This spring, I noticed them more than ever. Their songs seemed louder, richer, as if the world itself was waking up to a symphony I hadn’t fully heard before. Through every open window, their music drifted in. Each chirp, each trill—its own little gift. And yet, together, it formed a masterpiece. It made me wonder… what if we, as God’s people, lived like that? Each of us offering our own voice, our own song, yet woven together in harmony—declaring the glory of God.  Psalm 19:1 reminds us, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Psalm 104:12 says, “The birds of the sky nest by the waters; they sing among the branches.” Creation itself is singing. Every note, every melody points back to its Creator. But sometimes we don’t hear it. When our hearts are closed, the song of God passes by. His mercies are new every morning—but we have to open the windows of our hearts to let them in. Even now, in the quiet of fall, when the birds have slowed their songs, we can still sing. Together. We can be the voice of unity in a world that often feels divided. Our windows can be opened—literally and spiritually—to let the melody of God’s presence in. Creation doesn’t sing alone. The birds sing together. The waves crash in rhythm. The wind joins in like a choir. And Scripture reminds us—we aren’t meant to sing alone either. Romans 10:12 tells us, “For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on Him.” Ezra 3 gives us a picture of this unity: the people gathered together “as one man,” lifting their voices with a great shout. Psalm 133:1 says it so clearly, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” Friend, together we are stronger. Together we are louder. Together, our song becomes something heaven can hear. And think about this: when people sing, their accents tend to disappear. A voice from one country blends with a voice from another, and suddenly, there’s no division—just one melody. Our song can take many forms. Prayer whispered in the stillness of morning. Worship raised in a crowded sanctuary. Acts of love, words of truth, shared testimony, or simply showing kindness to another. Different notes, different stories, different hearts… yet a harmony emerges that cannot be ignored.  Our song doesn’t wait for spring. It doesn’t need perfect circumstances. It begins with one willing heart—and grows as we join together. Revelation 5:13 reminds us, “Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and in all that is in them, saying: ‘To Him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, forever and ever!’” Friend, your voice matters. Lift it. Join the chorus. Let your song echo the truth that God is near, that His love is present, and that His Kingdom is advancing—one heart, one voice, one song at a time. Even now, as you open your windows—literally or in your heart—remember: every chirp, every melody, every act of love is a note in the grand symphony of God. And He is waiting to hear you sing. Blessings, Elizabeth  It recently was blueberry season here in Wisconsin, and as I made plans to whip up my favorite blueberry lemon jam, I found myself thinking back on the summers when my boys and I would collect those juicy little berries together. They were sweet memories—ones I hope they carry with them for years to come. In the days leading up to our trip to the farm, we talked about it nonstop. Blueberry pancakes, jam, who would pick the most, who would sneak the most into their mouths…and how good those berries would taste. The anticipation of harvesting something together made the wait feel exciting. By the time we pulled into the gravel drive, we couldn’t wait to plop those berries into our buckets—and maybe a few into our mouths too. But sometimes, the harvest isn’t ready to be picked...  When we got to the farm, we were led to the rows of blueberry bushes, and before we started, we were given clear instructions: “Don’t pick the green or purple blueberries. The deep blue ones are the ripest. They’ll taste the best.” So we kept that in mind as we began picking. My boys and I scanned the bushes for the bluest berries. But the purple ones? Oh, how they caught their attention. Oh, how they really wanted to pick a purple one. They just looked so good, hanging there, almost ready. But I reminded them—we were only picking the blue ones. And right there, mid-picking, I couldn’t help but think of Eve. There she was, in the garden. Everything around her was good. Ripe. Given freely by a God who loved her. And yet, her eyes were drawn to the one tree He said not to touch. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil. That one tree. I imagine her strolling through rows of fruit trees, brushing past figs, oranges, peaches, pears—fruit so rich and satisfying, picked at just the right time. But still… that one fruit caught her eye. Maybe it gleamed a little differently in the light. Maybe it looked just a bit more tempting than the rest. Like those purple berries. Now, the problem wasn’t that the fruit wasn’t ripe—Eve wasn’t told to wait. She was told not to eat it at all. But still, she looked at it and thought, maybe I’m missing something. She doubted. She decided she knew better than God. That what she saw in front of her was worth disobedience. And that first bite? It might’ve tasted good at the moment, but it came at a price. Sometimes we do the same, don’t we? We think: If I don’t pick it now, I’ll miss my chance. If I wait, maybe it’ll go to waste. If I don’t take it, someone else will. But here’s the truth: some berries aren’t meant for us—at least not yet. And sometimes? They're meant to ripen for someone else. As my boys were picking, they resisted the urge to grab the purple ones. They let them hang there, giving them time to ripen into rich, sweet blue. For the next children who would come. For the next set of hands that would reach for what had become ready.  I got to a little more thinking that day: How many purple berries have we picked because we were afraid to wait? “If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place.” —Habakkuk 2:3 How many times have we wanted the "berry" right now and weren’t willing to wait? “With the Lord, a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness.” 2 Peter 3:8-9 How often have we picked the purple berry because we thought we knew better? “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. Isaiah 55:8 Sometimes God has you wait because the berry just isn’t ready. Sometimes it’s not your berry at all. And sometimes—if you’ll just be patient—the berry that ripens in time will be sweeter, richer, and more satisfying than you ever imagined. God’s timing is never wasted. And maybe, just maybe, the berry you’re longing for right now isn’t yours to pick. Maybe it’s ripening for someone else. Like those berries my boys left behind, hanging in the sunshine, growing deeper in color and flavor. They weren't wasted—they were waiting. So let me ask again: What’s your apple? You might say Gala, Cortland, or Macintosh—but I’m not really asking about varieties. Every fall, our family goes apple picking. It’s a favorite tradition. But every time I’m there, hunting for the best ones to drop into our basket, I think of Eve again. That one fruit. That moment. That choice. Her downfall wasn’t the temptation—it was the decision to act on it. She looked at the fruit, believed she needed more, and doubted that God’s plan was enough. We do the same when we chase things we weren’t meant to have or when we pick things before they’re ready.  So I’ll ask you again:
You don’t have to take the bite. You don’t have to pick the berry too early. You can walk away. You can wait. God gives us strength to resist, wisdom to discern, and grace when we’ve picked what we shouldn’t have. And He always—ALWAYS—makes a way back. “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear… he will also provide a way out.” 1 Corinthians 10:13 So, the next time you’re out picking apples…or blueberries…or considering a decision that seems just a little too good to pass up… Pause. Pray. Wait for the blue ones. They’re coming. And they’ll be worth the wait. Blessings, Elizabeth There are moments in life that shape us, and often, they come when we least expect them. Looking back, there are a lot of things I wish I had known during the hardest seasons of my life – especially when I was walking through the journey of single motherhood. But here’s the thing: these lessons aren't just for single moms. They're for anyone who's in the midst of a struggle, facing trials, or climbing a mountain that seems too steep. If you’re feeling a little down today… If you're walking through a valley… If chains are binding you, or the road ahead feels too daunting… If pain feels like it’s swallowing you whole, or hope feels distant… This is for you. I wasn't always close to God. In fact, during some of my darkest days, He felt very far away. I was angry with Him. I had buried wounds deep inside me, and for a long time, I tried to keep God beneath all those layers. Then, one day, I was thrown into the role of a single mom in an instant—left alone to care for two young children. The weight of it all hit me like a wave, adding to the pile of hurt, anxiety, anger, and hopelessness I already carried. But despite my all those feelings, there was a tiny nudge inside me. A voice whispering. A whisper that told my heart that maybe I still needed God to get through this. So, months later on a Sunday morning, desperate for something to hold onto, I took my kids and walked into a church for the first time in years. I don’t remember much about that service – but I will never forget what happened afterward. I was wearing a pair of clogs that day, and as I walked down the empty stairwell of the church, I misstepped. I fell all the way down, holding my baby boy in my arms, making sure his head didn’t hit the ground. That fall caused something to break inside of me. I wanted to cry, to sob from the physical pain, but more than that...from all the pain I was carrying inside. But I didn't. I got up, bruised and bleeding, put on my mask, and left the church. I never returned to that church. It would be YEARS before I would start attending any church again. But God didn’t give up on me. He didn’t care that I was tattered, bruised, and angry. And He didn't leave me that way. He kept calling me. He loved me even when I couldn’t see it. Even when I couldn't love Him back yet.  5 Things I Wish I Had Known As I reflect on those hard years, there are a few things I wish I had known—things that could have lightened my load, things that could have carried me through the storms. 1. Trust God The heaviest chain I wore was the one I created myself—self-reliance. I thought I had to handle everything on my own. I believed it was all up to me—providing, protecting, fixing. It was exhausting! What I wish I had realized is that God is our provider. He gives us peace, strength, joy, and comfort in ways that no one else can. I wish I had trusted Him more, let Him take the burdens I was carrying. It doesn’t mean there wouldn’t have been any problems, pain, or valleys. But, if I had trusted Him, the journey would have been lighter, less overwhelming. Romans 15:13 “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” 2. I Don’t Have to Be the Warrior I spent years thinking I had to be my own warrior. I thought I had to fight every battle, on my own. But the truth is: I don’t. God is our warrior. He fights for us. He stands in front of us, guarding us against battles we don’t even see. Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." 2 Chronicles 20:15 "For the battle is not yours, but God’s" 3. He Redeems The world tells us that we’re too broken, that we can’t be fixed. But the truth is, there is nothing we’ve done, no mistake we’ve made, that God can’t redeem. He can heal the wounds we think are beyond repair. Romans 3:24 “...all are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.” 4. Cry For so long, I tried to hold it all in. I built walls around my pain and tried to convince myself I was fine. I built a dam to hold back tears. That dam didn’t make me stronger. It just made me numb. All it did was harden my heart and silence my healing. But there’s a beautiful release when we let our tears fall at His feet. Cry out to God; He can handle your pain, your questions, your grief. Psalm 147:3 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” 5. I Am Not Alone When I was going through my darkest days, I felt like I was completely alone. But God was always with me, even when I couldn't see it. If you're feeling alone today, know that you are not. Jesus is always by your side, lifting you when you can’t stand, carrying you through. Isaiah 41:10 – “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  And a Few Things I Wish I Had Remembered
As time went on, there were some more truths I wish I had understood better and had clung to firmly, even in my hardest moments. 1. God is Good It’s easy to forget this when life is hard. But looking back now, I can see how God worked in all the pain, shaping me, teaching me, and growing me. Even when I couldn’t understand His plan, I know He was always good. Psalm 145:9 “The Lord is good to all, and His mercies are over all His works.” 2. I Am Loved No matter what I went through, no matter how many mistakes I made, I was (and am) deeply loved by God. You are, too. The truth is, He may not always love the things we sometimes do, but His love for us, for me, for you, is unshakable, and nothing can take that away. Romans 5:8 “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” 3. He Can Do the Impossible When life felt impossible, I forgot how big our God is. He’s the same God who moves mountains, who silences lions, who overcomes the world. Nothing is too big for Him. Luke 1:37 “For with God nothing will be impossible.” 4. He Hears Us God hears every cry. Every prayer. Every tear. Nothing escapes His notice. 1 John 5:14 And this is the confidence that we have toward Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.” If you’re feeling broken, alone, or overwhelmed, know that God’s love for you is unchanging. He’s with you, He hears you, and He will never leave your side. So today, I encourage you to trust Him. Let Him carry your burdens. Let Him fight for you. Let Him redeem your story. Cry out to Him, because He is waiting to heal you. Take a step towards Him. Embrace His love. Surrender your control to Him. Know that with Him, nothing is impossible. Blessings, Elizabeth Have you ever felt like something unseen was circling you? Watching. Waiting. Hoping you’d stay quiet? I have. Years ago, after working a late hospital shift, I pulled into my parents’ country driveway—too exhausted to even make it inside. I shut off the car and closed my eyes for just a minute. But suddenly, I felt something. That creepy, hair-raising feeling that you’re not alone. When I turned my head toward the window, there it was: A wolf. Inches away. Staring directly at me. We locked eyes for what felt like forever before it turned and disappeared into the night. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. And when I finally did, I ran straight into the house. And I’ve wondered since then—how often do we live like that spiritually? Sitting paralyzed in fear, waiting for the enemy to move on, instead of rising up and roaring?  The battle is real, but so is your roar! 1 Peter 5:8 warns us that “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Notice that Peter says the enemy prowls like a roaring lion. Don't let the devil fool you—he only pretends to be a lion. Jesus IS the Lion of Judah (Revelation 5:5). The One whose roar shakes nations. And if you’ve said yes to Him, that roar lives in you. You weren’t meant to tiptoe through life, hoping to avoid the battle. You were made to stand up, open your mouth, and ROAR. So what does your roar sound like? Did you know a lion’s roar can be heard up to 5 miles away? This loud roar marks territory. It declares authority. So what does a spiritual roar sound like? My roar is my worship. My praise. My testimony. And it’s a mighty roar because of Jesus. My worship, my praise, my testimony…they let Satan know to whom I belong, and where I belong. It’s not just noise. And it's more than volume—it’s authority. It’s not about sounding strong—it’s about Christ living in me. It’s about praying Scripture out loud. Singing when you feel broken. Declaring truth when the enemy whispers lies. When I’m down on my knees crying out to the God who never gave up on me… When I’m praising Him through both hills and valleys… When I’m speaking His Word, not just mine… That’s when my roar is the loudest. Because my roar isn’t just mine—it’s the call of the King of Kings roaring through me.  In a lion pride, the one with the most scars is the most feared. And in regards to spiritual battle, I believe the same is true. If you are like me, life may have given you a lot more scars than you would like to have. Have you ever felt as though those scars from silence your "roar". Or just make your roar a little more quiet? They don't! Your scars do the opposite—they give it weight. They say, “She’s been through something, and she’s still here. She’s still standing. She still believes.” They say: "You may have hurt me, Satan. But I got up. I didn’t stay down. I took a step. I persevered. I got healed. And I’ll do it again. And again." Your roar tells the enemy: Not today. Not my family. Not my calling. Not my heart. Roar, my friend. Roar Loud. Roar for your babies. Roar for your husband. Roar for your sisters who can’t roar right now. Roar for the world that’s broken and searching. Roar for the One who gave His life for you. Because worship is warfare. Praise is power. And your testimony is a threat to the kingdom of darkness. And there is victory in the name of Jesus. “Submit yourselves to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” —James 4:7 “The seventy returned with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the demons are subject to us in Your name!’” —Luke 10:1 Put Your Roar Into Action Today Play a worship song today and sing it like you mean it. Pray out loud over your home or family. Share part of your story with someone. And when the enemy tries to come close-- Don’t freeze. Don’t run. Roar. Roar in the name of Jesus.  Reflection Questions:
A Prayer: Jesus, You are the Lion of Judah. The One who fights for me with a heavenly roar. I ask You to rise up inside of me. Teach me to worship like a warrior. To pray like a daughter who knows who her Father is. To speak truth even when my voice shakes. Let my life be a roar that echoes Your power, And may the enemy flee every time I call on Your name. Amen. Blessings, Elizabeth I’ve always been a storyteller. It’s part of who God made me to be. Growing up, I’d sit at the dinner table, captivated by the stories my grandparents shared—snapshots of a time long past. As a child and teen, I crafted poems and chapters of books I never finished. Storytelling was my passion. It poured out of me whether I wanted it to or not. It was my way of feeling, processing, expressing. But then came a long season of brokenness. To protect myself, I built walls. I stopped feeling. And when I stopped feeling—I stopped writing. Because my words have always come from the heart. And yet… that longing to tell a story? It never left. As a single mom, I couldn’t afford professional photos of my kids. So I picked up a camera and started learning. And somewhere along the way, photography awakened something in me. I discovered a new way to tell stories. And then, I discovered light. I fell in love with light. I began to notice it everywhere— The way it sparkles on water when the sun is setting. The soft glow of it through a wispy white curtain. The way it softens or hardens facial features. The way it changes and creates color. The way it weaves a story of it's own. But more than that, I realized this: Light tells God's story too.  “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth… God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” — Genesis 1:1–3 The very first thing God spoke into existence was light. It wasn’t just a physical necessity. It was a declaration. A beginning. A tone-setter for everything to follow. God’s first word to the world was light. What does that mean for us? It means light is more than beauty. More than energy. Light is spiritual. It’s divine. And that same divine light is meant to shine in us. Jesus, the Light of the World. In John 8:12, Jesus said: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” And in Matthew 5:14, He turns and says to us: “You are the light of the world.” What a powerful change following Jesus creates! We go from being in darkness to being called light in the Lord (Ephesians 5:8-9). And that light—His light—now shines through our lives. Paul expands on this in Ephesians, calling us to walk in goodness, righteousness, and truth. To live as children of the light. To reflect Christ in our thoughts, actions, and words.  How Do We Shine? Shining our light doesn’t require a platform. It doesn’t need a spotlight. It just needs a willing heart. Here are a few simple ways to be light in everyday life:
Light Tells a Story. Our lives are like living photographs—images that reflect the goodness and faithfulness of God. We are an album that can be opened daily by others. When we shine our light, people don’t just see us—they see Him. We are the city on a hill. The lamp on a stand. Called to shine in dark places, not for our own glory, but to glorify our Father in heaven (Matthew 5:14-16). Remember... We are God’s children. Light is in our spiritual DNA. The Gospel shines brightly in us. Yet, it is our daily choice—not just to follow Christ—but to either cover our light… or let it shine. May we realize the honor and the weight of this calling. May we embrace that we have been made to shine—for this time, this day, this moment. When we are awake and do not sleep, when we live in the day and not the night, the Light burns brightly on the lampstand and the city is ablaze on the hill. So let’s tell God's story through us. Let's light up the world. Blessings, Elizabeth  We are tentmakers. No, we may not sew shelters out of goat hair like Paul did—but make no mistake, if you’re a follower of Jesus, you are a tentmaker too. In Acts 18, we meet Paul in Corinth. There, he connects with Aquila and Priscilla—fellow tentmakers. They became fast friends. Why? Because they had something in common: they were tentmakers by trade. Together, they worked, ministered, and lived out the Gospel in the most ordinary and extraordinary ways. Paul’s occupation wasn’t just a necessity. It wasn’t a side hustle. I believe it was woven into his ministry.  Tentmaking in the ancient world wasn’t easy. It involved cutting and stitching tough cloth—called cilicium, from Paul’s home region—into strong, durable tents for travelers. Paul likely learned the trade as a young boy, maybe from his father, much like how Joseph taught carpentry to Jesus. This skill provided for his needs—but it also opened doors for discipleship. He made tents and made friendships. He used the sweat of his labor as a witness to the Gospel. Paul Did So Much More Than Make Tents. I just can’t imagine Paul stitching away without sharing Jesus. His passion to share the Gospel had to ooze out of him wherever he was. We already know that he discipled Aquila and Priscilla, who went on to disciple others, as they worked side by side. So, I can’t imagine Paul standing in that busy marketplace—overflowing with travelers from all over the world—and not using every opportunity to preach, pray, and plant seeds of truth. Who knows who walked through that marketplace, met Paul, and carried the Gospel to distant lands? And in Acts 19, we learn that even Paul’s aprons and handkerchiefs—used in his work—were instruments of healing. God used the very tools of his trade to perform miracles! (Want to learn more about Paul’s aprons, read this blog post here: Life. Hope. Faith. Wandering from Wilderness to Promis - Blue Jean Gypsy). That tells us something important: God can use even the most ordinary parts of your life for something sacred. Paul, Aquila, and Priscilla honored God through their daily work. They used their skills as a bridge to build relationships. They worked happily together. Their hands built tents, but their hearts built up the Church. Paul was never “just” a tentmaker. He was a builder of eternal homes. He was making space in people’s hearts for Jesus. And we are called to do the same. Our faith can be woven into our work, just as I believe Paul's was. You Are a Tentmaker, too. Did you know that? You may not sew fabric, but you are a tentmaker in the spiritual sense. Why? Because as a believer, you are a dwelling place for the Holy Spirit. You are both home and portable tabernacle, ready to go wherever God sends you. That means we carry His presence wherever we go. You carry His presence into your workplace, your home, your community, your kitchen, your errands, and your conversations. You are a vessel of light. A bringer of hope. A builder of the Kingdom. Let your work be worship. Let your tasks be testimony. And let your whole life be a witness to the Gospel.  So How Can You Be a Tentmaker?Here are a few simple, powerful ways:
You are a tentmaker. Therefore, pick up your tools—whatever they may be—and walk into your mission field with confidence. Whether you’re folding laundry, leading a meeting, planting seeds in your garden, or having coffee with a friend—God is at work through you. Let your life make room for Jesus in the hearts of others. So friend… Put on your apron. Tie the strings. Wipe your brow. And step forward. Because you are a tentmaker. And through you, God is building something eternal.  Reflection Questions: 1. What Does It Mean to Be a Tentmaker?
2. Service as Worship
3. Ministry in the Marketplace
4. Discipleship in Daily Life
5. Your Story & Your Testimony
6. The Holy Spirit in You
 “Paul wasn’t just making tents — he was making a home for Jesus in the hearts of people.” I’d love to hear from you. How are you serving others in this season of life? How have you seen God work through your everyday moments? Leave a comment below or message me directly—I’d love to pray for you and cheer you on. Blessings, Elizabeth  Recently, I took some photos of a tablescape for an upcoming blog post. I took the photos with both my camera and my phone. Why am I mentioning this? Because when I looked at both sets of photos, I was struck by something I hadn’t expected: the mood was entirely different between the two. One felt warm, soft, light, and inviting. The other? Harsher. Dark. A little moody. But here’s the thing—the table hadn’t changed. The decor hadn't changed. The lighting in the room hadn’t changed. The only thing that changed...was the lens.  Friend, isn’t that exactly how we experience life sometimes? The situation hasn't changed. The person hasn’t changed. The environment hasn't shifted. And yet, our perspective? Can become completely different. What we see is often colored not by truth, but by the lens we're looking through. Some days we see light. Other days, we see only shadows. Some days we see potential and promise. Other days, we only see problems and past wounds. The truth is, our experiences, disappointments, fears, and even past traumas often act as filters—distorting our view without us even realizing it. But here’s the good news: when we become aware of the lens, we can choose to change it. We can pick up a new one—not one tainted by emotion or assumption—but a lens crafted by the truth of God’s Word. A lens shaped by grace, forgiveness, and hope. A lens that sees people the way Jesus sees them. That sees our circumstances the way Heaven sees them. “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” – Colossians 3:12 The light is steady and true. It always remains. When the light doesn't seem so bright, perhaps we have just picked up the wrong lens. So let me gently ask you today-- Is there someone you're looking at through a dark lens instead of a light one? Is there a situation that feels hopeless because you’ve forgotten to look at it through the eyes of faith? What would it look like to step back… and ask God to help you see again? Not with your pain. Not with your pride. Not even with your past. But with His heart. Ask Him to adjust your vision. Ask Him to help you lay down the lens of fear, bitterness, or cynicism-- And pick up the lens of truth, grace, and unshakable love. Because the table hasn’t changed. The Light is still shining. Maybe it’s just time to put on a brand new lens. Blessings, Elizabeth  Welcome back, friend. In Part 1 of this series, we talked about identifying the idols in our lives—the sneaky things that quietly steal our trust, affection, and attention away from Jesus. And if you haven’t read or listened to that yet, I encourage you to go back and do that first here: We uncovered the “what" last week. Now it’s time for the “how.” Because once God shows us the idols we’ve clung to—how do we actually let them go? How do we move forward with a heart that’s truly undivided, wholly devoted to Jesus? Let’s walk this out together, step by step.  1. Repent With Your Whole Heart This step isn’t about guilt or shame—it’s about returning. It’s about looking your Savior in the eyes and saying, “I’ve trusted in something else. I’ve made it more important than You. But I don’t want to live that way anymore.” Repentance is not punishment. It’s rescue. It’s how you come back home to the One who’s been waiting with open arms. “Return to me with all your heart,” declares the Lord. “With fasting and weeping and mourning.” – Joel 2:12 2. Unpack the Hidden Idols There’s a story in Genesis 31 that always comes to my mind when I'm doing a heart check. As Jacob leads his family back toward God’s promise, his wife Rachel secretly steals her father’s household gods. She hides them, carries them, and brings them on their journey to a new land, a new home, a new season. She was headed in the right direction—but still clinging to old idols. How many of us do the same? God calls us forward. And we say yes—but we also pack our fears, our control, our “just-in-case” gods. Friend, you can’t walk in freedom while hiding idols in your saddlebag. Even if they’re sentimental. Even if they’re “not a big deal.” If you want to live with an undivided heart, there’s no room for old gods. We need to unpack them to move forward. 3. Break free When King Hezekiah found the Israelites worshiping the bronze serpent—something that had once been a gift from God—he destroyed it. He broke it to pieces. Sometimes we have to do the same. What do you need to delete, step away from, or let go of? That friendship that pulls you away from Jesus? That role or ambition takes precedence over obedience? The relentless pursuit of youth—chasing the mirror, the trends, or the version of yourself you think will finally be “enough”? If it’s costing you intimacy with Christ—you need to break it. You need to destroy it into pieces.  4. Fast From It—and For Him Fasting is a powerful way to make space for Jesus. Maybe your idol is comfort. Or control. Or productivity. Fast from it. Let that hunger, the quiet, or the space lead you to the Word and to deep prayer. Fast not just to say “no” to something—but to say “yes” to Jesus. 5. Rebuild Intimacy with God When you tear down idols, it creates a space. A space that needs to be filled. And we need to fill it with holy and good things. Some ways we can start doing this are:
6. Let Others In For some of us, this might be hard to do. But we were not made to do this alone! Tell someone what God is doing in your heart. Let trusted, Jesus-loving friends walk with you. Accountability isn’t about shame—it’s about growth. So, we now know that we need to go to trusted friends, but what about when our friends come to us? “If someone is caught in sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently.” – Galatians 6:1 How can we gently hold our friends accountable and still support them? We can ask questions like:
 7. Keep Guarding Your Heart Idols don’t always die quietly. Sometimes, even after you’ve removed them, your heart will still crave them. And new idols can find their way into your heart. So stay awake. Stay surrendered. Ask the Holy Spirit often: “Is there anything I’m putting before You today?” And then choose Jesus again. Friend, here is the good news...God doesn’t just call us to lay our idols down—He helps us do it. He doesn’t just ask us to surrender—He fills the empty space with His presence, His peace, and His power. So today, choose Jesus over everything. Let Him take His rightful place on the throne of your heart. Pray With Me Lord, tear down every idol I’ve built with my own hands and heart. I surrender the things I’ve leaned on more than You. Show me how to live with an undivided heart—one that beats only for You. I choose You over everything. Amen. Blessings, Elizabeth Want to Go Deeper? I created a free set of printable worksheets to help you reflect, journal, and walk through this process with Jesus. You can download them here: And don’t forget—if you missed Part 1 of this series, go check that out below.
Let’s keep choosing Jesus—again and again. Is there something you’ve put your faith in more than God? Maybe you’re not entirely sure. Or maybe something inside you quietly says, “Yes.” If so, this is for you... Let me take you to a story you might have read before but perhaps never lingered on. It’s about King Hezekiah. He was one of the few kings of Judah who truly honored God. But it’s not Hezekiah’s life that I want to talk about today. It’s something he did. Something bold. Something courageous. And at first it seems a bit strange: He broke Moses’ bronze serpent into pieces. Wait. What bronze serpent? And why would he do such a thing? And what on earth does this have to do with your life right now? Stay with me. I promise it matters.  Let’s go back to Numbers 21. The Israelites were still wandering in that seemingly never-ending wilderness. They had been on that journey for quite some time. They were tired, frustrated, and worn down. Maybe, like them, you’ve been on some long journeys of your own. Maybe you’ve seen God's provision, His protection, His preservation—and, yes, even His victories—but still found yourself feeling impatient along the way. I know I can relate. The Israelites wanted the journey to be over. And in that tiredness and frustration, their questions turned into complaints. They said cried out: “Why did you bring us out of Egypt just to die out here in the wilderness?” Have you ever felt like that? Ever wondered why God led you to a place that feels empty, exhausting, or just plain hard? Have you ever questioned God’s plan? Have you ever asked something like… "God, why did You lead me here? Why this path?" "Why does this season feel so dry, so long?" I know I have. Those are real questions. Valid questions. But for the Israelites, their “why” wasn’t about understanding anymore. It became about frustration. Complaining. Forgetting. They couldn’t appreciate the manna. They couldn’t remember the miracles. They couldn’t see that the journey wasn’t just about the destination. So, their grumbling grew louder. And as they grumbled, the Lord sent poisonous serpents among them. Many were bitten. Some even died. It was only after this tragedy that the people came to Moses, repenting. They asked him to intercede. In His great mercy, God told Moses: “Make a snake image and mount it on a pole. When anyone who is bitten looks at it, he will recover.” (Num. 21:8) So Moses made a bronze serpent. And just as God promised, those who looked at it in faith were healed.  That’s why the Israelites kept the bronze serpent. That’s why they carried it into the Promised Land. It reminded them of God’s protection. His forgiveness. His mercy. And it became a powerful symbol for Israel. But over time, something changed. Generations later, that very symbol became an idol. They forgot it was God who saved. They forgot the story. They forgot the maker. Instead of remembering the God who healed, the people began to worship the thing He used. And just like with the golden calf, they began to worship the bronze serpent itself. They burned incense to it. They gave it a name. They put their trust in a piece of metal. That’s when King Hezekiah stepped in. He destroyed it-not just removed it-broke it into pieces. Why? Because it had to be. If left whole, it would be worshipped again.  Here’s where it gets personal and I have to ask: Is there something you’ve begun to trust more than God? Something that was once a blessing… but has slowly become the thing you rely on instead of Him? Is there something you’ve elevated-even unintentionally-above Him? Something that’s more important to you? Something, or someone, you trust to save you, bring peace, make things better? Sometimes the very things God gives us-gifts meant to sustain, encourage, or guide-become golden calves or bronze serpents. We begin to fix our eyes on the means instead of the Giver. These things might even be something good. Something God gave you to provide for you, or protect you. But the thing itself? It was never meant to carry the weight of your worship. So let me ask again: What is your bronze serpent? Maybe it’s your own strength. Your intellect. Advice from others. A relationship. Your career. Health. Medicine. Money. Ministry. Food. Exercise. Comfort. Security. The list could go on and on. And sometimes, the very blessings God gives us can become the very things we start to put our trust in more than Him.  Interestingly, Jesus Himself referenced the bronze serpent. In John 3:14-15, He said: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in Him may have eternal life.” Jesus wasn’t praising the bronze snake. He was using the image to point to something greater. He was using it to point to Himself. The cross is a beautiful, powerful symbol. But the wood didn’t save us. It’s what Jesus did on that cross that saves us. Just like it wasn’t the bronze serpent that healed the Israelites, it’s not the symbols of faith, nor our rituals, or our efforts, that heal. Jesus heals. We may not be physically wandering the wilderness outside the Promised Land—but many of us are in our own dry seasons, feeling far from God’s promises. We face fears, disappointments, confusion, and pain. The serpents of this world slither at our feet. Some only to scare us, but some strike deep. But God didn’t leave us in a wilderness of vipers to die. In His mercy, He gave us Jesus. It is time to Break the Bronze. If there’s a “bronze serpent” in your life, something you’re clinging to, hoping in, idolizing. Don’t be afraid to break it. Even if it started as something good, it’s not meant to take the place of God. Smash it before it grows roots. Before you start to burn incense to it, even without realizing it. Let’s remember, again and again:
So today, let’s ask ourselves honestly: What have I placed my trust in more than God? And if there’s anything in our lives that’s starting to take His place-even something that started as a blessing-may we have the courage to break it into pieces. Before it breaks our focus. Before it steals our worship. Before it becomes our bronze serpent. So that we don’t worship the method instead of the Maker. May we always remember: Remember why we’re on this journey. Remember who carried us this far. Remember that it’s not our strength that carries us, our plans that heal us, or our symbols that save us. It is, and has always been, Jesus. Blessings, Elizabeth Lord, help me to see anything I’ve placed above You. Help me to recognize when I’ve started to trust in something other than You-- even if it’s something You once gave me. Teach me to remember. To put my faith fully in You. To worship only You. And to break anything that’s taken Your place. Amen. Prefer to listen to the podcast? You can listen to the Blue Jean Gypsy Podcast here: Your heart was made to be wholly His. Don’t miss Part Two where we go deeper into how to actually tear down those hidden idols and walk in freedom.
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Meet ElizabethWife. Mother. Writer. Photographer. Child of God. Encouraging others in faith through a lens of grace and seeing beauty in the ashes. Archives
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