Posts by Mia Grace
When You're Not on Speaking Terms With God

I wrote in a previous article about acknowledging that there is a living and active God in our lives and learning to live with Him in our lives. But, practically, how do we go about living with God? Especially, if we are in seasons where it is easier to accept He’s not actually around. How do we live with a living God, when we still aren’t convinced He is living?

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Thoughts on the Coronavirus from Asia

I was in Southeast Asia when the Coronavirus was first beginning to spread in January. There was something apocalyptic to each day, as my friends and I put masks over our faces before we left the apartment in the morning. Our translator kept asking store owners for hand sanitizer and face masks, but most were out or selling them for outrageous prices.

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Learning to Live with a Living God

There is a section of 2 Kings that I came across, and I think the truths expounded in that saga are not unlike the truths we need to hear now. We are all learning how to live with a living God. It’s easy to live life when God is distant, ancient, and silent. But, that is not who God is, and in 2 Kings 18-19, we find two kings learning what it means to live with a living God.

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How Passivity Is Keeping You From Obedience

I’m a nanny. It’s a job which has provided me more than a few life lessons. Today, especially. I brought the four-year-old home from preschool, and reminded her of the chores she had to complete before eating lunch. I made lunch and returned to her. She failed to complete her tasks and instead chose to sit and fiddle with a toy. Usually, I don’t have any profound thoughts or nanny-wisdom. But as I watched her, I knew what I needed to say to her. I walked over and sat in front of her.

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The Promise Of A Loving God

I write this in the middle of deep silence. A sense of emptiness finds me, and I know it is not emptiness. It’s an ache. I work eight to twelve hour days, which is normal for most, and I have tried to shove too much in between. I finally found an hour to myself, and I wanted to cry. I cry a lot. When all the activity and bustle I have organized for myself no longer swirls around me, I am left to stare at all I have swept under the rug. 

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Saving Face

I’m sick, and it’s late. I came home and my room is still a wreck. I manage to hang up my jacket. This is fine. I’ve been so jetlagged and tired the last week and a half, I haven’t worked out. The mirror shows awkward curves reforming. I force myself through a short workout, but my sore throat reminds me that I need rest. This is fine. I have a meeting in the morning, an article due tomorrow, a presentation to create, and a stack of thank you notes to write. There are so many hats on my head, I’m no longer certain which hat was there in the first place. This is fine.

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Sit In The Holiness

Holy. I don’t understand this piece of God. I cannot wrap my mind around it. He is holy. Holy means He is intensely good, righteous, radiant, and anything that is not holy will be obliterated by His presence. I don’t visualize Him as holy. It’s easy to see Him as present, or good, or faithful, but not holy. This last week my eyes were fixated to the blinding holiness of God, and my absolute unworthiness to approach Him on my own.

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So, You Wanna Go Back To Egypt?

War is persecution. It is oppressive, it requires commitment to a cause and commitment to a side. War requires commitment even at the risk of death. I think it would be limiting God for us to assume the reason He took them the long way was because He didn’t think they were physically ready for battle. There are enough accounts in the Bible to testify that God can start and end a battle with whatever army He has on hand. So, what’s going on?

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Faith In The Face Of Experience

It is a question we are afraid to ask. It is something we think but do not speak. It is a terrified piece of our souls in the closets of our minds. The Question is the same for everyone, but we all have our own version--our own way of asking. It is born in the chasm that exists between us humans and God.

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My Name Is Forgiven

Who am I? The question pounds from the moment I wake up to the second I fall back to sleep. I open my phone, and I am pestered by a thousand possibilities. Am I a writer? Am I an artist? Am I a linen skirt girl? Am I a leather jacket chick? Red or pink lipstick? Should I be wearing lipstick? Do I care about fashion trends? Who liked my posts? Did those people notice me? Do I need to get my name out more?

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