Few boxing rivalries are as legendary as the one between Joe Louis, an African-American boxer, and Max Schmeling, a German fighter who was a favorite of Hitler’s (although Schmeling personally had no love for the Nazi regime). The two men were promoted as bitter rivals, but the truth is that the two later became close friends. Schmeling even helped pay for Louis’ funeral in 1981. Very different from one another, they shared a friendship that went beyond the bounds of sameness.

In our world, we often imagine that it’s sameness that lies at the foundation of friendship and unity. But when Paul describes true unity in Jesus in Ephesians 4, he includes a list of very diverse roles that people are called to fulfill as part of the body of Christ: apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers (Ephesians 4:11). Clearly, Paul didn’t believe that unity requires that everyone should be the same.

Instead, the apostle connects unity in Jesus to a far deeper source than outward sameness: We’re to be unified both because of who God is and because of what He’s done. We have “one Lord, one faith, one baptism, [and] one God” who is over all (Ephesians 4:4-6). In this way, unity isn’t based on something as superficial as how similar we are to one another. Instead, it’s far more profound, a reflection of God’s character and all He’s done for us in and through His Son Jesus.

This is a far better blueprint for true unity. We don’t seek unity because we’re the same. We seek unity as a reflection of God’s own character, and because His work has carefully forged together one body of Christ. As Paul wrote, “You are citizens along with all of God’s holy people. You are members of God’s family” (Ephesians 2:19).

As a teenager, when I became overwhelmed by enormous challenges or high-stakes decisions, my mother taught me the merits of putting pen to paper to gain perspective. When I was uncertain whether to take specific classes or which job to pursue, or how to cope with the frightening realities of adulthood, I learned her habit of writing out the basic facts and the possible courses of action with their likely outcomes. After pouring my heart onto the page, I was able to step back from the problem and view it more objectively than my emotions allowed.

Just as recording my thoughts on paper offered me fresh perspective, pouring our hearts out to God in prayer helps us gain His perspective and remind us of His power. King Hezekiah did just that after receiving a daunting letter from an ominous adversary. The Assyrians threatened to destroy Jerusalem as they had many other nations. Hezekiah spread out the letter before the Lord, prayerfully calling on Him to deliver the people so that the world would recognize He “alone . . . [is] God” (2 Kings 19:19).

When we’re faced with a situation that brings anxiety, fear, or a deep awareness that getting through it will require more than what we have, let’s follow in Hezekiah’s footsteps and run straight to the Lord. Like him, we too can lay our problem before God and trust Him to guide our steps and calm our uneasy hearts.

Gazing out my open study window, I hear birds chirping and hear and see the wind gently blowing in the trees. Bales of hay dot my neighbor’s newly tilled field, and large, white cumulus clouds stand out in contrast to the brilliant blue sky.

I’m enjoying a little bit of paradise—except for the almost incessant noise of the traffic that runs past our property and the slight ache in my back. I use the word paradise lightly because though our world was once completely good, it no longer is. When humanity sinned, we were expelled from the garden of Eden and the ground was “cursed” (see Gen. 3). Since then the Earth and everything in it has been in “bondage to decay.” Suffering, disease, and our deaths are all a result of humankind’s fall into sin (Rom. 8:18–23).

Yet God is making everything new. One day His dwelling place will be among His people in a renewed and restored creation—“a new heaven and a new earth”—where “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Rev. 21:1–4). Until that day we can enjoy the bright splashes and sometimes wide expanses of breathtaking beauty we see around us in this world, which is just a small foretaste of the “paradise” that will be.

The death of a king in 2016 elicited deep grief from the people of his nation. The news resounded around the world as citizens wept over the loss of their beloved ruler. One man said the monarch had been a caring leader for every person. Another woman was in such despair that she couldn’t even eat. This king was an able leader who helped bring political stability and economic development to the country for more than seventy years. The loss of his leadership caused many to look with fear toward the future.

As I watched the faces full of sadness over the news of their leader’s death, I felt sad for them. But I also thought about my heavenly King—the One who lives forever and will never die. In Revelation, Jesus said, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End” (Revelation 22:13). Knowing this truth gives me peace and comfort when grieving the loss of leaders and others.

David recognized God as the King who reigns over all the earth. Though a king himself, in Psalm 24 he proclaimed the greatness and dominion of God. He knew that he’d become a king not by his own might but because the Lord chose him and “appointed [him] as the leader of Israel” (2 Samuel 6:21). With evident excitement, enthusiasm, and reverence, David gave praise to God—the “King of glory” (Psalm 24:8). He then welcomed Him—desiring to be in His presence. He wrote, “Let the King of glory enter” (Psalm 24:9).

What an amazing thought to ponder: The everlasting Creator of the universe has been and continues to be actively at work among us! He allows those “whose hands and hearts are pure,” through His work in their lives, to seek and worship Him in His presence (Psalm 24:4,6).

“Will we see any snakes?”

Allan, a young boy in our neighborhood, asked that question as we started on a hike by the river near our home.

“We never have before,” I answered, “but we might! So let’s ask God to keep us safe.” We paused, prayed together, and kept walking.

Several minutes later my wife, Cari, suddenly took a quick step backward, narrowly avoiding a poisonous copperhead partially coiled on the path ahead. We waited as the snake left the trail, giving it a wide berth. Then we paused and thanked God nothing had happened. I believe that through Allan’s question, God had prepared us for the encounter, and our prayer was part of His providential care.

Our brush with danger that evening brings to mind the importance of David’s words: “Look to the Lord and his strength; seek his face always” (1 Chron. 16:11). This advice was part of a psalm celebrating the return of the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem. It recounts God’s faithfulness to His people in their struggles throughout history, reminding them to always praise Him and “cry out” to Him (v. 35).

What does it mean to “seek [God’s] face”? It means we turn our hearts toward Him in even the most mundane moments. Sometimes our prayers are answered differently than our asking, but God is faithful come what may. Our Good Shepherd will direct our paths and keeps us in His mercy, strength, and love. May we declare our dependence on Him.

I use writing to worship and serve God, even more so now that health issues often limit my mobility. So, when an acquaintance said he found no value in what I wrote, I became discouraged. I doubted the significance of my small offerings to God.

Through prayer, study of Scripture, and encouragement from my husband, family, and friends, the Lord affirmed that only He—not the opinions of other people—could determine our motives as a worshiper and the worth of our offerings to Him. I asked the Giver of all gifts to continue helping me develop skills and provide opportunities to share the resources He gives me.

Jesus contradicted our standards of merit regarding our giving (Mark 12:41–44). While the rich tossed large amounts of money into the temple treasury, a poor widow put in coins “worth only a few cents” (v. 42). The Lord declared her gift greater than the rest (v. 43), though her contribution seemed insignificant to those around her (v. 44).

Although the widow’s story focuses on financial offerings, every act of giving can be an expression of worship and loving obedience. Like the widow, we honor God with intentional, generous, and sacrificial gifts given from whatever He’s already given us. When we present God the best of our time, talents, or treasure with hearts motivated by love, we are lavishing Him with offerings of priceless worship.

My husband Jack was on mile 25 out of 26 when his strength failed him.

This was his first marathon, and he was running alone. After stopping for a drink of water at an aid station, he felt exhausted and sat down on the grass beside the course. Minutes passed, and he couldn’t get up. He had resigned himself to quitting the race when two middle-aged schoolteachers from Kentucky came by. Although they were strangers, they noticed Jack and asked if he wanted to run with them. Suddenly, he found his strength restored. Jack stood and accompanied by the two women he finished the race.

Those women who encouraged Jack remind me of Aaron and Hur, two friends who helped Moses, the leader of the Israelites, at a key point (Ex. 17:8–13). The Israelites were under attack. In battle, they were winning only as long as Moses held his staff up (v. 11). So when Moses’s strength began to fail, Aaron and Hur stood on either side of him, holding up his arms for him until sunset (v. 12).

Following God is not a solo endeavor. He did not create us to run the race of life alone. Companions can help us persevere through difficulty as we do what God has called us to do.

I recently witnessed an encounter where someone entirely dismissed and degraded another person. “Leave now,” the instigator said, “you’re not wanted here.” I took great offense for the person who received such cruel treatment. But I also felt profound sadness for the individual who spewed such mean-spirited words. I know how to help one who’s been rejected, but it’s far more difficult to know how to help one whose soul has been poisoned by contempt for another.

Jesus told a story about a Pharisee who was praying at the temple, a man who seemed to be impeccably moral and faithful. He didn’t cheat others, didn’t prey on the weak, wasn’t a carousing scoundrel, didn’t sneak around on his wife. To top it off, he gave 10 percent of everything he owned to God and fasted at least twice a week (Luke 18:11-12). Unfortunately, this man had two glaring issues: He trusted in his own goodness, and he “treated others with contempt” (Luke 18:9 ESV).

Contempt is a vicious word. It means to despise, to count as nothing. This was a person who completely degraded other people.

There was also present in the temple a tax collector who kept to himself, downcast. He “beat his chest in sorrow” and begged God for forgiveness (Luke 18:13). This broken man could receive God’s forgiveness while the Pharisee, deluded by his self-righteousness, had a heart closed to God’s mercy.

Contempt may at times feel good. It may make us feel superior or even holy. But it always poisons our soul. Contempt doesn’t only degrade others; it also degrades ourselves, putting us at odds with God’s wide and generous love, hardening our hearts to Jesus and others. By God’s grace and strength, may we instead have humble hearts receptive to His mercy.

“Is God doing something new in your life?” was the question the leader asked in a group I was in recently. My friend Mindy, who is dealing with some difficult situations, responded. She told of needing patience with aging parents, stamina for her husband’s health issues, and understanding of her children and grandchildren who have not yet chosen to follow Jesus. Then she made an insightful comment that runs contrary to what we might normally think: “I believe the new thing God is doing is He’s expanding my capacity and opportunities to love.”

That fits nicely with the apostle Paul’s prayer for new believers in Thessalonica: “May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else” (1 Thess. 3:12). He had taught them about Jesus but had to leave abruptly because of rioting (Acts 17:1–9). Now in his letter he encouraged them to continue to stand firm in their faith (1 Thess. 3:7–8). And he prayed that the Lord would increase their love for all.

During difficulties we often choose to complain and ask, Why? Or wonder, Why me? Another way to handle those times could be to ask the Lord to expand His love in our hearts and to help us take the new opportunities that come to love others.

“Fear is not a Christian habit of mind,” the novelist Marilynne Robinson has remarked. Yet fear is one of the most powerful and consistent forces in human behavior. Even outward obedience can be driven more by fear than love. What does it even mean, we might wonder, to live without being motivated by fear?

The story of Jacob can help point the way. When I read his story, I see a person who seems driven by fear. He’s so afraid of missing God’s blessing that he’s willing to do almost anything to obtain it—even if it means tricking his feeble, elderly father (Genesis 27:27-41). But throughout Jacob’s story, God points him to a different reality—one where he is loved by God and chosen for a purpose.

When God first reveals His promises to him at Bethel (Genesis 28:10-15), Jacob wonders if it’s too good to be true. “If God will indeed be with me,” he says, he would serve Him and make Bethel a place of worship (Genesis 28:20-22). And God was with him, though Jacob struggled to believe it. Later, when he’s on the road again, fearing for his life from his brother Esau (Genesis 32:3-5), God appears to him in the form of a stranger. Jacob, still desperate for a blessing, wrestles with Him all night (Genesis 32:26-30). At the end of their struggle, God blesses him—this time changing his name from Jacob (“deceiver”) to “Israel”—which likely means “wrestles with God.”

Through a long and difficult struggle, God taught Jacob to bring his fears to Him, to wrestle with Him and cling to His promises. And it seems Jacob finally “got it,” returning to Bethel once more to obey his promise to worship God there (Genesis 35:6-7). There God reminded Jacob who he really was—not a trickster, but someone who’d learned to wrestle with and follow God (Genesis 35:10).