At any rate, here’s some of what worked for me and what didn’t this year,1 plus some news and updates:

A FEW BIG EVENTS:

I turned 50 in July! I met this milestone with a big fat smile. Look, not everyone gets to turn 50. But praise God I got to do it in good physical and mental health. At 50 years old, I’m learning to integrate the satisfaction of adult accomplishments with the pain of adult losses. I’ve both wrestled with a major life decision and struggled to undo one. I have made peace with having pastors and doctors who are younger than me, and noticed that these days the sight of a handsome young man makes me think, “that guy reminds me of my son.” I. Wear. Readers. I haven’t exactly gained wisdom, but at least now I know that I need it. That seems like a good place to start 2026.

Also, all mid-life propaganda is welcome. Sing me your song of retinol, minoxidil, collagen. Bring me all the perimenopause influencers your algorithm can muster. Not because I deny death - but because I’m all too aware of it. It’s simply delightful to exist in a body that, for now, can be maintained in ways that are silly and optional. This iteration won’t last forever.

I got a Masters Degree in Theology. All I can say is during Covid some people took up sourdough and some people took up Biblical Hebrew. For sure the sourdough is more useful, but for me a couple of trial courses at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School proved so captivating that I somehow ended up with a full-blown seminary degree. Some semesters I took a full load and some semesters I took none. Eventually I had done the whole shebang - Hebrew (yay), Greek (boo), systematic theology, Biblical theology, missions, apologetics and exposition classes. I was mentored by a dean who - like me - was also a lawyer, and by a woman who had raised children to adulthood. I received scholarships appointed just for women in ministry (the affirmation was HUGE). I got to serve on an academic committee and work as a professor at a Christian law school. This program equipped me in ways I really didn’t anticipate when I started. It also required a lot of time and submission to tasks I sometimes didn’t want to do. But then, all of a sudden there I was in my California kitchen, live-streaming the commencement from Chicago, thinking Zoom has really done a lot for women.

I went back to a “secular” job. For the past few years I’ve been on staff at a Christian university, serving as a lawyer and Title IX Coordinator. This for sure was a ministry, and it made logical sense of my gifts and skills. But in 2025 our family priorities and opportunities changed. As our teenagers grew into new stages and we attempted to plan for the future, my husband and I identified financial and professional goals that could be better addressed elsewhere. When God gave me an opening to go full-time, remote as an attorney for the government, I had no qualms about leaving “professional ministry.” All moral work has sacred potential for those who are in Christ. So far, my new job has been serving our family well and I’m excited to see how it grows in 2026.

I said goodbye to Dustin (for now). If you know me at all, you know my relationship to my disabled brother has been one of the most formative aspects of my entire life. (I’ve shared about him here and here). What a gut punch to say that Dustin died this year. The last time I saw his body, the last thing I thought was, “the next time I see you, you’ll be alive.” And I really do believe that. I am sad, but I’ll be okay.

WHAT WORKED IN 2025:

As I adapted to teen schedules and a new job, my Bible study and reading plans required a new approach. Some things that have helped are:

Time-based Bible study: As women with highly variable schedules (read: caretaking tends to disrupt our plans), it’s challenging to move beyond “whatever strikes me”2 when considering scripture. I’ve been exploring ways to study and teach the Bible based on the time available each day, while incorporating sound exegesis. Even if you only have five minutes a day you can learn a lot over time, if you use your time well. So far I’ve drafted studies in Ephesians and Jonah, and gained some useful feedback from my professors and a focus group. I’m praying about a time-based study on Colossians in 2026/2027.

Audio Bible for OT context: I’ve taken up the habit of listening to the Old Testament in the background while I shower and get dressed each day. And yes, my husband finds the signals confusing. “GRWM while I listen to Leviticus” isn’t the sexiest TikTok. But a lot of these texts were meant for listening, not reading, and you can tell. The repetition and patterns stand out so clearly when you listen on repeat, especially if you are an aural learner. I miss some portions when the hair dryer is running or if I have to dash to the laundry for a shirt. But overall this habit is making it easier for me to grasp big chunks of context, so that times of deeper reflection are more effective.

A rough chop daily liturgy: I’ve stopped fighting the fact that my duties do not allow for hours of deep Bible study on a daily basis. Sure there are weekend times and chunks set aside, but I don’t have a maid, nanny, or cook, and the bar association frowns on malpractice. So my daily schedule is rather occupied. I am finding it helpful to apply small daily habits aimed at checking in with the Lord, knowing that deeper scholarship will follow. For the past couple years I’ve aimed to read one Psalm and a chapter of Proverbs first thing every morning and take 30 minutes for focused reading right after the kids leave for school. Then at lunchtime I try to take a short walk or do a couple chores with a sermon or audioBible in my headphones. Lately on the drive to school pickup, I’ve also been trying to spend a little time in silence and prayer - otherwise known as the “liturgy of the commute.”3 I guess ideally I’d cap this off with some sort of evening ritual, but the truth is I tend toward comedy podcasts at night and it’s hard to imagine that changing. Judge not.

What Didn’t Work in 2025:

Regular gospel reading: How do you think you’re going to grow in love for, obedience to, or knowledge of Jesus when you don’t usually read about his life? Honestly, that is absurd. Yet as I reflect on my habits over the last year, it appears I believe this magically can be done. I would say in any given week I read a portion of the gospels maybe “once in a while.” I just gravitate toward the Old Testament, which isn’t bad but really doesn’t make sense if you want to live in devotion to Christ. For 2026, my goal is to add a half chapter a day, though I’m not exactly sure where (maybe that evening ritual, after all?). This goal is small enough that I think I can figure it out - and it’s sure to be fruitful.

Sacred Seasons and Liturgical Calendars: In the Christian liturgical year there is Sacred time and Ordinary time. Sacred time contains special practices of observation tied to important events in the life of faith. Ordinary time is all the rest. O how I love the idea of Sacred time: weeks for observing Advent and Lent along with feast days and fasting. The history. The beauty. The calendars, planning and charts. The candles! The secret communal knowledge of important customs and colors. My only issue is that I literally never do any of it. I prefer to overthink wonderful plans that honor the integrity of the historical church and then implement less than zero of them. In 2025 I finally realized that I’m actually just a bigger fan of Ordinary time. Ordinary time means nothing tragic is going on; Ordinary time is stable and safe. I do not like to mix it up. I think for 2026 my goal will be to not even pretend we’re doing Lent. Hooray for Ordinary time.4

Church Fellowship. Our family attends church weekly, and we’re blessed with Christian friends. But something my husband and I are exploring these days is our general sense of disconnection from the local church. For many years, our love and connection within the local church was partly driven by my quasi-vocational service commitments to a particular congregation. But in this season I’m not serving in the same ways, we’ve moved to another congregation, and our children need different forms of engagement. We just don’t feel bonded to our local church like we used to. Knowing that all worthwhile relationships take work, we’ll be looking to address this feeling in 2026. Some good family conversations are already in progress.

Discipleship plans for January:

I’m currently studying Colossians. I am committed to hanging out with this book for as long as it takes to really get a handle on it. One theological concept that is challenging me is the idea of union with Christ, and that inquiry has formed the bulk of my reading list this month. First up: One With My Lord by Sam Allberry. I’m looking forward to hearing from this author whom I’ve admired but never read. I will report back soon, unless I don’t. With Substack your guess is as good as mine!

I’d also like to teach a few retreats in late 2026 or early 2027, perhaps with a focus on Colossians.

What about you? Do you have a specific discipleship goal in 2026?

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Well, actually I enjoy Christmas Day. It’s the month leading up to it that has me asking: what about the Incarnation means I have to gain 15 pounds and max out my budget? The constant chorus of, “must haves” and all the calendar detours feel like, “noise, noise, noise, noise!”

One fun thing I like to do is remind my family how early Christians didn’t even celebrate Christmas. “No one even knows what day Jesus was born,” I proclaim, “but it probably wasn’t December.” Then I drop some cool facts about harvest time and shepherds with flocks and the schedule of a Roman census. I end by suggesting we focus more on fasting and confession, not feasting and consumerism.

This little sermon always goes great! Just kidding. It goes nowhere, because it is lame.

Luckily I’m married to the kind of man who knows when to shove a cookie in my face and go hang some lights. 20 years married to Santa is making me a lot more fun.

But even as I’m learning to be a better sport about Christmas, I do crave more spiritual practices during this season. I just want to know I’ve come through December with some kind of connection to God. I want to feel that something special is at work in me before a new year begins.

One option I’m trying right now is scripture memorization. Scripture is how the first disciples recognized Messiah; it’s how he identified himself. (Luke 24:27) Memorizing is a simple practice: a few minutes a day focused on just a verse or two. And I like that I can try it anywhere - in traffic or the shower or in line for a peppermint mocha.

Would you like to join me? You can find some resources here or on Instagram.

My passage this year is Mary’s song, Luke 1:46-55. For a little more context on her words, you might like to watch this video. And let me know if you decide to participate. I would love to cheer you on!

Sometimes he uses a computer, à la Stephen Hawking. But when we want efficiency, we use a little signal: “let me hear your voice.”

It is a guttural sound we are after, something like a melodic groan. Dustin, do you want ice cream? “Let me hear your voice.” Should I wheel you into the shade? “Let me hear your voice.” Do you want to stop watching FoxNews? Please, oh please, “Let me hear your voice.”

There are other signals too. Dustin can raise his left hand, or look up to the ceiling for, “yes.” All forms of assent, for when we’re in a hurry.

Something you should know is that 100 percent of the time, Dustin will not give you the signal you have asked for. “Let me hear your voice” and he will raise his left hand. “Look up for yes” and you will hear his voice. In this way, he signals something more: he might be handicapped, but he still has agency and a will. You don’t control the message, because you don’t control the messenger.

We who hurry are humbled. We must slow down to pay attention. And then, we can have our answer.

Lately, my morning Bible reading has become a bit wooden. I am up early and the house is quiet, but my mind is “anxious and troubled about many things1.” What to make the kids for breakfast, are my lymph nodes swollen, how should I finish a project due the next day. These are thoughts, not prayers, and they don’t even come in order of importance. They just flop around in my mind like a fly dying on the windowsill. Then the coffee’s half gone and I look at the clock. Whew. Better hurry.

And so I say a little prayer like this - well, not “like” this. It is this, verbatim: “Lord, let me hear your voice.” I say it quickly, flipping to my page. Let’s crack this puppy open and exegete.

I must ask myself: if my 65-pound brother in a wheelchair prefers that I respect his chosen word, what about Jesus? Jesus, the exact representation of the glory of God. Jesus, whose word sustains the universe.2”

In my hurry, I must be humbled.

It isn’t that asking God to speak is wrong, per se. Scripture is full of this plea. But the issue lies with my intent: demanding that God get to his point, because I need to get on with my day.

Maybe I need a new prayer. Maybe it’s simply this one:

"Have mercy on me, a sinner." This is the prayer of blind men, begging to see light. It is the cry of dying men, aching for a cure. It is the confession of a rich man, reckoning all he has done wrong. This is a prayer Jesus answers with fresh vision, healing, and forgiveness. 3

In my hurry, this is the prayer that humbles.

I’m not a chanter, and I don’t usually go for rote prayer. But I am finding that these words put me in the right place to receive God’s choice of expression. If your Bible has been feeling a bit stale lately, perhaps they can help you too.

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For more on the history of this prayer, here is a great video:

And a helpful song:

Once when I was about 8 a lady at church told me if I had enough faith God would heal my brother. Was that what was holding God back, I wondered? My pathetic faith? Around that time I asked my dad if he thought God could heal Dustin. His answer was calm, kind, and final. “Yes, but I don’t think he will.”  

From that point on, I began to make an awkward peace with disability. Nothing less than heaven will make this right, but it will be made right, because of heaven. It’s a truth I must repeat each day, over the stove when my mind wanders. With time, it has hardened into something useful I can depend on. Christ in you, the hope of glory. (Colossians 1:27). 

In college I began to fear this need for repetition was a fool’s game, a sad attempt to steel myself that showed my faith was misplaced. I gave in to sorrow there for a while and had a bumpy road. But I’ve come to understand that grief demands we learn by repetition. And like most areas of study, if your repetition is correct it will eventually give way to mastery. 

This is the pedagogy of Jesus in John 9. Think what monotony the blind man experienced, before he met Jesus. Every morning when others saw the sun, he did not. All day long while others worked, he begged, reaching out again and again until it was night – and he did not see the stars. I can only wonder how often his heart cried out for a miracle. Had he too made peace with disability?

Maybe he had, but Jesus had not. Jesus gave the man sight, and a new lesson to repeat. I am the man who used to sit and beg. (v. 9). And then I could see. (v. 11). Jesus put mud on my eyes and now I see. (v. 15). I was blind but now I see. (v. 25). Jesus opened my eyes. (v. 30).  In time he gained the greater truth: none less than Messiah can give life, but you will have life, because of Messiah. (verse 38).

It’s been 40-plus years of repetition for me. Where grief once waged a war, I’ve gained a tiny fortress. So if I have to fight a hundred times a day to keep it, let me keep on repeating: Christ in you, the hope of glory. Because the day is coming when I will not live by faith, but by sight. (2 Corinthians 5:2).  And if I must keep on repeating until then, it will be worth it.

Megan Fera

This is my Brother.

My younger brother has Cerebral Palsy. If you’re picturing that kid from grade school who wore leg braces, or the guy at DMV with slightly slurred speech, that isn’t him. My brother is the one-in-a-million guy slumped over in a wheelchair typing out genius thoughts by a stick attached to his hat. That is to say, his case is severe. And miraculous…

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7 years ago · Megan Fera

I get it! Retreats are supposed to include everyone - elderly women, college students, professionals, stay-at-home moms, seasoned Christians and their non-Christian friends. They should be substantive, but also fun. We aren’t joining a monastery, after all. Covering a whole book of the Bible might sound dry or intimidating - especially when it’s not Esther or Ruth.

But here is the thing: every book of the Bible is meant for literally everyone. The relevance is baked right in. Women who tackle a whole book on retreat don’t just sit there, nodding. They think together in discussion groups. They raise questions in the stairwells. They pray during hikes and strategize late into the night. And then they show up the next day singing, ready to take on more. There is no stronger adhesive than God’s spirit working through his word. If your women need community, you need a whole book retreat.

THIS SOUNDS LIKE A LOT OF WORK!

Yes. It does take work to teach a whole book of the Bible in just a few days. There will be long hours of study and prayer to discern the book’s main points and applications. It takes creativity to write devotionals, sermons and study guides that will aid the learning process. Only teamwork can bring together worship, prayer, fellowship - even decor - in a way that helps everyone absorb what God pours out.

But as I often say to my children, “it’s a good thing you’re a hard worker!” As you get the ball rolling, you will be amazed at the women God calls in to help. You can enlist a woman or team of women in your church to teach. You can partner with another church, hire a local professor or engage a speaker to handle the teaching. This, too, is a form of community.

Whatever you do for your next retreat, make sure that it’s packed with scripture. Women are smart, busy and hungry to know God. There is nothing like his word to make a weekend worth their time.

Looking for a speaker? I’d love to hear from you.

Megan Fera

Give them Context. Give them a Whole Book Retreat.

What’s going on in this picture? There I am in the 7th grade, running with the big boys - maybe even about to pass them. You could preach a whole word about persistence, training and running to gain the prize. (1 Corinthians 9:24). But you would be dead wrong. I hated track. All I ever did was wal…

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3 years ago · Megan Fera

Megan Fera

Give them Competence. Give them a Whole Book Retreat.

As a middle schooler, I hated running track. The main reason for my aversion was that I wasn’t good at it. I just wasn’t, “a sports person.” But of course, the main reason I failed to improve was that I avoided practice. Just showing up up made me feel too awkward and insecure…

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3 years ago · Megan Fera

It turns out that this vicious cycle can limit growth in all kinds of learning, when our anxiety about performance prevents us from seeking progress.  Ever hear yourself say you’re, “just not a math person?”1 2

Well, what happens when a woman “just isn’t a Bible person?” God’s word becomes an extracurricular - good for some, but not for all. Maybe she’ll feel guilty that it isn’t a priority (“I know I need to, but I just don’t have time”). Maybe she’ll be annoyed by her lack of understanding (“what does this even have to do with my life?”). But in my experience, the objections boil down to one little riddle: she doesn’t enjoy the Bible because she doesn’t know how. And she doesn’t learn how, because she doesn’t enjoy it.

Good teachers lift the burden of perceived incompetence by offering relaxed, playful environments for students to practice fundamental skills. They know that students who feel safe to take risks in learning will experience greater satisfaction, leading to greater attempts and, eventually, greater competence. 3

This is absolutely true in Bible study. When we practice the tools of sound interpretation in a positive environment, we are more likely to enjoy the process, see the payoff, and persevere. We may never become experts. But we can all become joyful learners.

You would be hard-pressed to find a more playful and relaxed setting for this endeavor than a weekend women’s retreat. Free from the demands of work and home, energized by fun activities (and so. many. snacks.), women on a whole book retreat can collaborate toward greater understanding. And then they can help each other apply what they’re learning to the hardest, most intimate problems of life.

This investment will pay dividends in months to come, as women return ready to take on more. I’ve seen whole book retreats used to kick off church-wide study groups and personal Bible-reading plans, with great gains in attendance and spiritual growth. Just be prepared to offer quality options when they return. 

Looking for a speaker? I’d love to hear from you.

Megan Fera

Give them Context. Give them a Whole Book Retreat.

What’s going on in this picture? There I am in the 7th grade, running with the big boys - maybe even about to pass them. You could preach a whole word about persistence, training and running to gain the prize. (1 Corinthians 9:24). But you would be dead wrong. I hated track. All I ever did was wal…

Read more

3 years ago · Megan Fera

Megan Fera

Give them Community. Give them a Whole Book Retreat.

Recently a pastor asked me how my teaching all of Malachi in one weekend would feel, “retreatish.” I get it! Retreats are supposed to include everyone - elderly women, college students, professionals, stay-at-home moms, seasoned Christians and their non-Christian friends. They should be substantive, but also fun. We aren’t joining a monastery, after all…

Read more

3 years ago · Megan Fera

What’s going on in this picture? There I am in the 7th grade, running with the big boys - maybe even about to pass them. You could preach a whole word about persistence, training and running to gain the prize. (1 Corinthians 9:24).  

But you would be dead wrong. I hated track. All I ever did was walk the outer lanes looking for my mom, or fake my period to get out of it. On this day circa 1987, I ran such a slow, dreamy mile they had to start the next race before I finished. I didn’t even notice I was being lapped.

Without knowing what came before and after this snapshot, you’d have no idea what it really means. Only the context reveals its truth. So when it comes to women’s Bible studies, why is the word of God so randomly cropped? From coffee mugs to calendars, whole generations are being taught to zoom in on whatever catches their eye; never mind the surroundings.

This practice is dangerous. I was once exhorted to drive over a snowy mountain pass closed to traffic, by women repeatedly texting me Psalm 121. (“I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord…”) I’ve sat with many who have left Christian fellowship altogether, buried under isolated commands (“God hates divorce!”) or wounded by platitudes during horrific times of grief (“all things work together for good!”). This is to say nothing of the occult teachings and immoral counsel that poison the spiritually hungry, or the fact that some parts of the Bible are just kind of boring if you can’t really see why they are there.

Megan Fera

Take TIME

Many books of Bible have an estimated read time of 15 minutes. When the baby has colic, the office is understaffed, or medical crises bomb your week, don't skip God's word. Take TIME: TURN off your phone. INQUIRE: Ask God, what is this about? Skim the headings and the first/last sections. What seems to be going on…

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4 years ago · Megan Fera

A whole book retreat is the perfect way to bring some context back. All the teaching, discussion and worship times can revolve around a single book’s central themes, arguments and plot lines. Each session builds naturally on the one before it. And since many books of the Bible take only about 15 minutes to read, even your busiest participants can read your chosen material once through before they arrive. By the end of the weekend, they will know where the snapshots fit, and know what’s really going on in the picture. One good reason to consider a whole book retreat.

Looking for a speaker? I’d love to hear from you.

Megan Fera

Give them Competence. Give them a Whole Book Retreat.

As a middle schooler, I hated running track. The main reason for my aversion was that I wasn’t good at it. I just wasn’t, “a sports person.” But of course, the main reason I failed to improve was that I avoided practice. Just showing up up made me feel too awkward and insecure…

Read more

3 years ago · Megan Fera

Megan Fera

Give them Community. Give them a Whole Book Retreat.

Recently a pastor asked me how my teaching all of Malachi in one weekend would feel, “retreatish.” I get it! Retreats are supposed to include everyone - elderly women, college students, professionals, stay-at-home moms, seasoned Christians and their non-Christian friends. They should be substantive, but also fun. We aren’t joining a monastery, after all…

Read more

3 years ago · Megan Fera

Take TIME:

• TURN off your phone.

• INQUIRE: Ask God, what is this about? Skim the headings and the first/last sections. What seems to be going on?

• MARK IT: Begin reading, and leave pencil marks to come back later.

• EASY on the applications! The Bible isn't a fortune cookie. Don't grab something random and make it a rule of life. Just aim to notice what God was like in the book, and come back later for deeper study.

You might try reading the same book every day on repeat until things sink in. You could read one short book a day for a month - and get through almost a third of the Bible!

Deep, systematic study is best, but not always feasible. I find this method stops me from giving up altogether. I hope it can help you too!

It used to be that if some boss fresh off the disco wanted to give your kid a monkey to coddle in her bathing suit, that would be okay. I received this photo from my mom today, and when I asked just one of the 18 questions that came to mind she said simply, “He is a monkey man at a poolside at a hotel. I think it was in Columbus.”

Tonight this topic consumed our entire family dinner. 30 minutes straight of children riffing about how it would be to apply for that job, the poolside monkey man at a hotel in Columbus. About what type of Yelp review they would get, if it wasn’t 1980. And whether the monkey had a suite.

My children didn’t learn to swim until they were almost old enough to read. I was too afraid to teach them. For me, going poolside with babies was a somber dance of slathering creams and adjusting goggles and lurching over them with prayer - genuine prayer - for their skulls and lungs. Always longing to scream, “be careful!” Sometimes knowledge can mean progress. But more often, in my brand of parenting, knowledge means a kind of prescient vision concerning all that can go wrong.

Was it before or after this photo that my baby brother was born and almost died and then flew with our brave mother all the way to California, not for poolside play but for a new surgery that was maybe going to work, or maybe not? That little girl in the photo was taking notes in the process, about motherhood and fear and death. Now, progress means teaching her they weren’t all the right ones.

I’m going to guess that from the monkey’s perspective, progress means the absence of primates held captive at Midwestern hotels. But for me, becoming more like the mother who took this photo would really be progress indeed.

Megan Fera

This is my Brother.

My younger brother has Cerebral Palsy. If you’re picturing that kid from grade school who wore leg braces, or the guy at DMV with slightly slurred speech, that isn’t him. My brother is the one-in-a-million guy slumped over in a wheelchair typing out genius thoughts by a stick attached to his hat. That is to say, his case is severe. And miraculous…

Read more

7 years ago · Megan Fera

Late at night is when you’ll know I’m asking, “why, though?” Around 10:30, when the house finally goes dim, I get to make a choice. Bedtime means I will be ready to embrace the morning. Netflix means I will wait for my husband to doze off and then float around the halls checking locks and light-switches, or hover in the kids’ bathroom mirror to scrutinize my wrinkles for a while. Eventually I’ll lie down to listen for a truck on the freeway and wonder where it might be going. I avoid sleep, because I fear tomorrow will feel listless.

There is no earthly reason quarantine should irk me this way. Thank the Lord, we are all healthy and working. Honestly my day-to-day hasn’t changed that much. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for 12 years, and I’ve homeschooled before. But until now it always seemed like the all the things I did were done on the way to doing something else. There might be legal clients to serve, or Bible teachings to prepare, or - what I miss the most - visitors to pop in and share their hearts over my kitchen counter. Now, the trajectory of this relentless housework has become a treadmill: constant motion taking me nowhere.

A few weeks ago, I got so bitter about it I finally realized I should pray. And the Lord answered, right there in Philippians. There I found Paul rejoicing in days full of purpose, even as he sat captive at the hands of Rome, awaiting execution. It’s kind of embarrassing that this is the type of extreme it takes to adjust my perspective, but that’s often how it goes with me. God has to put things in bold relief. The more I’ve adopted Paul’s words for myself, the more I’ve been rejoicing with the purpose I find in every hour, and even (sometimes) getting to bed on time. Let’s see if this can help you too.

My Quarantine Is for Christ

I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ.  And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear. (Phil. 1:12-18)

How agonizing for this traveling missionary, this hardworking man of action, to sit in prison with his hands literally tied. I bet he would have loved to get back out there and contend with the world, even as lesser preachers were free to do so. But Paul understood what I need to remember: his station was for Christ. Yes, he is stating causation. “Preaching Christ is what got me here.” But he’s also stating purpose, “The reason I am here is to advance Christ.” You could even say he’s describing his identity, “I live this out in Christ.” Paul isn’t saying this just to get himself psyched up. All around, he sees the evidence that God has a plan for his prison. Because of Paul’s presence there, the whole praetorian guard has learned of Jesus and his fellow ministers are more (not less!) bold to speak God’s word. These are miracles before Paul’s eyes, proof that God is working. No wonder he can rejoice.

All the same for you and me. When I remember my quarantine is for Christ, I remember that Christ, in his sovereignty, put me here. Christ, in his loyalty, stays with me here. Christ, in his mercy, will spread his gospel here. Is it possible that friends who text can learn my days at home are spent for Christ? Could my children learn to speak his word without fear? If God can perform this marvel in a Roman prison, he can certainly do it in my kitchen. So now my morning prayers contain these words: Lord, my quarantine is for you. Do with it what you will. Please let my kids become more confident in you, and help them speak your word without fear. I find myself rejoicing because I am certain that’s what will happen.

I Know This Will Turn Out for My Deliverance.  

I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. (Phil. 1:19-22)

I don’t care how many times Instagram tells me to be a boss babe. I am straight up scared right now. For what we like to call, “therapy reasons,” I am generally very aware that life can go drastically wrong. Medically, socially, financially, politically, the months ahead seem like a heavy fog, and I am anxious that when it lifts we’ll find a treacherous landscape. What can God tell me to calm my dizzying fears?

“You know this will turn out for your deliverance.”

Paul bravely rejoiced every morning in prison, not knowing if he might be executed that afternoon. His suffering was so intense that he wondered if death was actually the better option. But like Job affirming, “I know that my redeemer lives,” and Naomi agreeing, “the Lord has not left you this day without a redeemer,” Paul can delight in one true final fact: there will be a deliverance. By the help of the Holy Spirit, Paul’s daily work would bear fruit, and his death would bring him into glory, forever.

Same for me! Same for me! Same for me! I want to shout when I remember this promise. Maybe I don’t need to know what the next few months will bring. Maybe I can trust my redeemer that the work he gives me will be fruitful, and the things I bury in the process will pave the way to greater glory.

So now I have the mission statement I need to get through quarantine.

My quarantine is for Christ; this will turn out for my deliverance.

One Little Wrinkle

Of course, none of this helps unless I really believe Christ is worth it. The part of me that still secretly believes my own plans, priorities and preferences might be better than the presence of Jesus will keep on feeling suffocated. But that is okay. Those are just the last breaths of an old self that needs to be snuffed out. I find the best way to reorient on God is to engage in worship. Stop the dishes a minute and sing a song, even as my children are waiting (I like this one and this one and this one). Read a gospel passage, not to outline or take notes, but just to receive the ministry of God through his word. When I catch a glimpse at the glory that resides in Christ, I can join with Paul in saying, “Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice.” Then my day will have purpose. Then my evening will bring rest. I am praying, with a smile, that you will feel the same.

Megan Fera

Psalm 130: A Quarantine Meditation

A message for moms doing quarantine…

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6 years ago · Megan Fera

Megan Fera

Paul's Joy in Quarantine x 100

Well, it’s been two weeks since my children’s school shut down, video conferencing entered my family room, and grocery shopping officially became eerie. Reality is sinking in: quarantine will last. There have been many bright spots. Sunny afternoons. Children’s literature. Sleeping in and drive-thru dinners. But there’s also been a heavy shadow, as the …

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6 years ago · Megan Fera

It's code for abortion. So I tell them that. The conversation that follows is a good one. Even though they are small, they can handle it. They must handle it, because this is the world they are living in. If I don't tell them what I think, my silence will equal assent. So we are doing this now, swerving around construction cones and looking for the turn-off. My brand of apologetics.

How should we approach this difficult topic, when they are so young?

1. Celebrate LIFE before discussing abortion.
God's ways are good. (Psalm 18:30) If He forbids something, it's because the alternative is better. (Isaiah 59:9) No matter how a woman gets pregnant, God sees, knows and designs every baby that is made, in His image and for His purposes.  (Genesis 1:27; Psalm 139:13; Jeremiah 1:5; Luke 1:41; Romans 9:11) Even a toddler can delight in these happy truths! It's lovely to be told that you matter to God. So remind them when you're kissing toes, giving baths, handing out crackers and tucking them in at night. God loved you before you were born, isn't He awesome?

The arts are extremely helpful in getting this message across. Children's literature sings LIFE, if you will take the time to enjoy it. When you read, Horton Hears a Who 8 million times, you don't just get better at saying, "Wickersham cousins." You get to remind your child, "A person's a person, no matter how small." When you read Charlotte's Web, you can savor the rightness of Fern's plea: "If I had been very small at birth, would you have killed me?" Every painting, building and sculpture is a chance to remember that we are the product of a creative God, who delights to protect His workmanship. (Ephesians 2:10) So look around and remind them.

2. Delight yourselves in babies.
Our culture despises children. If you don't believe that, Google the statistics on neglect, abuse and child trafficking. Watch some "family" sitcoms, where you can learn that children are loud, rude, expensive and absent from the best parts of the show. Or just take a trip to the grocery store with me, and hear some snarky lady ask, "are they ALL yours?" — as if my cart is full of weapons.

If you want your child to reject this ethic, you've got to impress the opposite. When a baby cries at Target, lean over and whisper, "Oh do you hear that? The sound of new life!" When you see an infant sleeping at church, slow down and admire - his new little fingers! Her plump little lips! Display your child's ultrasound proudly, if you have it. Tell your daughter you're so glad she was born. Tell your son his birth story. Celebrate adoption. (Psalm 68:6)

3. Be frank (but not graphic). 
When we want to conceal evil, we keep it in the dark. (John 3:19) In the case of abortion, obscurity is the devil's playground. That is why we say things like, "products of conception" and "a woman's right to choose" instead of, "killing a baby." We file this act away in a neat little pocket called, "Women's Healthcare." We can't expect a better outcome if we won't tell our kids the truth.

So, that day in the minivan, this is what I told my kids:

Not everyone is excited when they find out they're pregnant. Sometimes, it feels like very bad news. Maybe the mother is very young, too young to really be a mother. Maybe she was having sex when she wasn't supposed to, and now people will find out. Maybe she doesn't have anyone to help her and she is scared, or she doesn't want to work together with the baby's father. Maybe she doesn't have enough money for the things a baby needs, or maybe she is afraid she won't be able to do the things she was planning to do, if she has to take care of a baby instead. Maybe she found out that the baby's going to have a disability (like your Uncle Dustin). When that happens, there is a procedure she can have called an abortion. Abortion is where the mother gets medication or a surgery to kill the baby that is growing inside her. I know that is so, so hard to hear about. It is very sad to God, too. I'm sorry that I had to tell you about it. But I want you to know I will always tell you the truth, the very best that I can, and you can always ask me anything. I love you. 

Devastation. Discussion. Tears. Silence. Now they know what abortion is.

4.  Look for the Helpers.
I've delivered some ugly news. What can I do to comfort them? After their questions that day, I let them just be quiet. They stared out their windows and I prayed for God's work in their hearts. Then I remembered what Mr. Rogers said: when you hear scary news, it's best to look for the helpers. Knowing there is help around makes children feel more secure. So that is what we did. We talked about a family friend joyfully raising a foster child. We recalled our recent visit to a pregnancy center. We talked about the church, how it can be a soft landing place for people in crisis, and brainstormed ways our family could help. And of course, we talked about Jesus. He makes all things new, and forgives abortion. In the end, there is no other answer I can give them. Thankfully, He is enough.

People often ask what it was like for me when Dustin was born.  I'm sure that it was a big deal (two counselors have told me so).  But, it also kind of wasn't.  I was 5.  We lived in small town Ohio.   That summer there was a Fireman’s Parade and “Bette Davis Eyes” playing constantly over the public pool’s gravel lot.  My greatest desire was for a KISS Colorforms Set (denied). So there you have it: 1980.

This was way before ultrasounds and amnio.  I don’t think anyone knew he’d be a boy, much less a boy with death-defying congenital brain damage and a stomach malformation that no one knew how to fix.  There were emergencies and surgeries, tubes, bleeding. A move to California.   An arsenal of tragic prognoses: Dustin won’t walk, Dustin won't talk, Dustin is going to die.  He will never recognize your face. To operate would waste space.  Warnings of divorce, urgings to institutionalize.  The exact words “let nature take it’s course.”  A spooky oracle concerning dysfunctional sisters.  How my parents, mid-20′s, endured this I have no idea - except to say that the love of a parent (and the grace of God) can really take your breath away.

If that was the storm, my brother was the eye.  Adorable, kissable, dressable, huggable, squishy and naked.  So, so little. And soft.  In my medical opinion, he was perfect.  I remember Dustin cried a lot and I had enormous satisfaction thinking I was the only one who could help him.  I used to rock him on a pillow and make up personalized versions of oldies’ tunes.  I put caterpillars on his belly and propped up toys for him to stare at.  What it was like was a feeling of confidence and pride, and purpose. A role to play in giving comfort.  Only older siblings know this sense of ownership. My brother was fully MINE.

People ask me about these memories because they fear bringing a disabled child into their family might screw up his siblings.  Ignorant people with degrees have told them so.  They look at his sisters and think, “tsk tsk, neglect, how sad.”   They don’t consider that the weakness of our brother can make him all the more loveable, his survival all the more worthy.  I thank God that my parents made a choice to shelter me from prejudice, but not from disability.  I pray more parents will do the same.

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Megan Fera

Learning by Repetition

When I was little, the deepest longing of my heart was to see my brother walk. At night I’d lie on my back and try to think back before that invisible moment in the womb when things had changed. And then I’d think back even farther. Back to my dad being a kid, back to dinosaurs, back to the Earth covered in water, and the Spirit of God hovering over. T…

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6 years ago · Megan Fera