Ashlie Miller

By Ashlie Miller

I have long appreciated the honest thoughts in the Psalms— songs of joy and lament and songs of pondering the realities surrounding the writer.

Consider Asaph, a song leader for Psalm 73, who felt envious as he looked about himself, seeing wicked, arrogant, godless people prosper. As we often do, he over-generalized what he saw – they have no pain until they die; they don’t experience trouble like the rest of the world. Ever feel that way? Ever start saying “they never, they always” when you look at others and think it is unjust that they prosper despite what you know about their character?

Asaph is in a pickle. He does not know what to make of this. However, verse 16 is key to unlocking understanding. He is weary in pondering until he enters the sanctuary of the Lord. While worshiping with others and looking upwards, he recognizes the end of those who live recklessly and selfishly, though perhaps successfully, on earth. 

I wonder what he heard when he was in the sanctuary of the Lord on the Sabbath. Maybe it was Psalm 92, titled A Song for the Sabbath. Take some time this weekend to read it. Within it is a comparison of evildoers and the righteous. Both flourish in some way. But one is only like the grass, doomed to destruction and scattered about, while the other is like a stately palm tree abiding in God’s presence. Maybe as it was read, Asaph looked over to the family who had been through pain yet exuded joy and hope. Did he see the old-timer still bearing the fruit of righteousness in old age and, though poor in material things, was rich in life and love? Moments of communal worship and the truth of God’s word can bring discernment.

The writer of this psalm goes on to confess that his heart had been embittered, and he acted ignorantly and like a beast toward God. Though you may have felt embittered, have you felt like you could lay out those words before God the way Asaph did? I marvel at his honesty. 

After looking out at the world and becoming embittered, then worshiping with others and hearing the truth, Asaph looks at himself and sees that he, too, was unworthy of grace from his Father. Yet even in his beastliness, the difference is that he longed to declare God’s uprightness and sovereignty. The wicked rejected that, relishing in their mockery.

Maybe Asaph felt guilty for acting so beastly and judging God’s goodness of bestowing common grace to the wicked – allowing them to have any earthly success. After all, that is all they would ever have. Yet, God accepts Asaph, beastly and all – “Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold my right hand…My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:23, 26).

Christian, are you frustrated by how good “they” seem to have it with no recompense? Gather with fellow believers in the church and look upward. Be reminded of what is true in the household of truth as you declare God’s righteousness.

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, live in Concord where they raise their family. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Believe it or not, there was a time when the education system’s goal was to mold its students into contributing members of society. Much of the focus was on developing good moral citizens. Early primers combined proverbs and other Bible passages with fables, ancient stories, poems, and songs. As a homeschooling mom, I still look to teach virtues to my children. While they are not immune from being consumer-driven like many of us today, my hope and prayer is to give them a buffet of good teachings to remind them of their purpose – to glorify their Creator while also caring for others. 

I recently found a used copy of the thick volume of The Book of Virtues by William J. Bennett while shopping at Goldberry Books in Concord. This particular copy came out before I completed high school (no, I won’t say when that was), but as I am reading aloud from it daily, the lessons are still relevant. Consider this lovely poem on compassion by M. Bentham-Edwards:

A Child’s Prayer

God make my life a little light,

   Wishing the world to glow; 

A tiny flame that burneth bright

   Wherever I may go.

God make my life a little flower,

   That giveth joy to all,

Content to bloom in native bower, 

   Although its place be small.

God make my life a little song,

   That comforters the sad;

That helpeth others to be strong,

   And makes the singer glad.

God make my life a little staff,

   Whereon the weak may rest,

That so what health and strength I have

   May serve my neighbors best. 

As we pondered this poem together, even my 9-year-old could see something deeper for us as a Christian family. Jesus is our light, and we should be His light to others. Like a flower, He puts us in places to share His joy. When others are going through hard times, even if we are as well, we can carry a song and bring encouragement. If someone is humble enough to admit they are weak, or if we can see that they are in need, we can both provide refreshment and point them to a Sustainer (God) who can do even more than we are able.

As you send off your little lights, flowers, songs, and staffs into the school year, read them this poem to remind them to contribute more than they consume in a relationship and their community. Maybe it’s a good time for those of us in the school of life to read it to ourselves as well.

Ashlie Miller homeschools 4 of her 5 children in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

And just like that *snap*, summer vacation is coming to a close. For some of us, it was too fast, but we felt like it would never end, especially if one of our children was away for the summer. Such was the case with our oldest. He set out to serve at a Christian summer camp in western NC for the summer.

Letting him go for a summer, well, that was easy. After all, summer does go by quickly. We knew he would be returning, ready to explore life with a gap year ahead of him. Gap years are the time some students elect to take between high school graduation and their next steps. Gap years can be tricky. Sometimes, it is taking a breather in some way before entering the many responsibilities of adulthood, while others are anxious to begin a career by stepping into internships, apprenticeships, and more. Others plan to save up as they plan to work through college.

In any case, having a sense of purpose and direction is critical. Otherwise, a gap year may lead to a season of idleness. That can lead to laziness and slothfulness and an opportunity for the devil to tempt us to build idols when we are idle. 

We prayed as our son set off for camp—a time to reflect and ponder his purpose in the upcoming gap year. God met us in our prayers, allowing our son to intern there for an entire year. It all came together quickly and somewhat unexpectedly. After ten weeks of grueling schedule, he came home to rest, recharge, and recalibrate. Then, Friday came. 

Many other families prepped their college-bound sons and daughters for a new adventure. They have had years to plan for this day. The Friday before our son left was a bit different. We knew a day would come when he would be away from us for an extended period, but we had no idea it was waiting for him just around the corner. The day he left was also the anniversary of his Nana (my mom) passing away 3 years earlier. Talk about lots of mixed emotions! But we made it through. His leaving met me with an overwhelming sense of peace and joy mixed with sadness in my tears.

Parents of Christian young adults—send them in God’s peace. Each of them is leaving with areas for growth and maturity. This also provides opportunities for our own growth in Christ as we trust Him with our children. If God has begun a good work in them, even though it is imperfect and at times really messy, we can trust that the Father will complete that good work—even if it is a messy process. (Philippians 1:6)

Pray for them, encourage them, send them Amazon deliveries. Do all you can to engage from a distance, but ultimately, entrust them to their Creator and Savior. I preach to myself here as well.

If your child is not a Christian, pray for the other students they will encounter who are. Pray they will reach out, grow in their faith, and desire to share the gospel with your loved one. Most of all, remember God loves them more than we ever could and cares more perfectly than we can.

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, have a few more children and several years left until they are empty nesters. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Nothing enhances gentle breezes like a set of wind chimes on the porch. Usually, they are a lovely sound, but one day recently, they proved to be a tangled mass of brokenness needing gentle hands. 

Mom died three years ago this past Friday, and grief is ever-present, seeking to appear at the most unsuspecting times. My brother told me a story of processing grief while listening to wind chimes – some given to him as a memorial to our mother. He lives in the NC mountains, and breezes are a refreshing part of the day. However, one evening, the wind must have been more aggressive, taking the cords and chimes and whipping them together in a tangled mess. The sight was unseemly, and the sound was broken and disheveled. 

Patiently, my brother unwound the cords, untwisting the metal wrapped haphazardly together, prompting tears to come to his eyes. He felt God speaking to him through the moment, reminding him that He had done the same thing for our mother. She had lived firmly and faithfully through her cancer journey the last few years. But even with a smile, she was still wrecked and ruined – her melody limited in her time here on earth. God relieved her earthly sufferings. 

Not only is she now free from the encumberments of a broken and fallen earth, filled with sin, sickness, and disease, but she is also free of the things we may think we brought upon her. I imagine many children, perhaps many loved ones, have certain regrets when a loved one passes. There may be regrets of not spending enough time, words spoken or words not spoken, memories of childhood rebellions or adult neglect in a relationship – earthly (temporal) things that seem to fill up our days that turn into years that turn into a lifetime of remorse and sadness. It is a weight we wonder if they continue to carry as we wrestle with it ourselves.

Sometimes, survivors can feel an unnecessary burden or prolonged guilt and regret for missed opportunities or years. However, for the Christian who has passed from this life to eternity, all those memories and brokenness are erased—untangled. God is the Master who gently takes the tangled, mangled mess, lovingly unfolding it into something beautiful and free to make an everlasting song.

My brother successfully unwrapped the chimes, free to listen to the music in the wind again. He is growing to be free and untangle himself of regrets and missed opportunities. 

When tempted to live in sorrowful grief and regret, we can remember that the awesomeness of God’s glory is beyond anything temporal when we are in eternity. His majesty, grace, and love will consume all our thoughts and desires. He promises to wipe away our tears and do away with death, mourning, crying, and pain – the many things related to our earthly lives (Revelation 21:4). I am not sure how God will do that, but I am so thankful that He not only does that for us one day but that He also does that for our loved ones who have preceded us in death into eternal life.

By Ashlie Miller

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path” – Psalm 119:105.

Usually, on morning walks, I snap photos with my iPhone of flowers, plants, occasionally a critter, and sometimes the sunrise. Lately, I have been distracted by lampposts that are still lit in my neighborhood well after sunrise. If it was a dark winter morning and especially if it was snowing, it might feel magical—like walking among Narnia. But in the humid, bright summer, it just seems silly and unnecessary.

It is like the many competing voices after the Olympic opening ceremony in Paris or any recent event where multiple views can exist. We invite them into our lives most days by scrolling online on our platform of choice.

I read one such post earlier this week as I began my day – which was a mistake, for I should have christened the day by opening God’s Word. It was yet another voice telling us all how to interpret and how to feel. I felt aggravated and then angry, but I knew enough about myself and past missed opportunities on restraint not to comment or share. Still, I was frustrated. I shared that frustration with my husband, and then I just sat on the porch, prayed to my Father, and asked Him what to do with myself, my feelings, my interpretation, and my understanding. How do they matter, if they matter at all?

God met me right there in my prayer and reading. Not one, but two of my reading plans for that day had me in Psalm 7, where I read that “God feels indignation every day” – EVERY DAY. As one Bible study friend said, “Not just in the future where He will judge rightly, but even right now, today!” The Olympic ceremonies represented yet another day that God was indignant. Regardless of the intended messages of the event, it should be no surprise that the godless either inadvertently or intentionally devise wickedness. Psalm 7:14, says “the wicked man conceives evil, is pregnant with mischief, and gives birth to lies.” What a picture!

I read that He was indignant; now what? In another reading for that day (Psalm 37), I learned about God’s thoughts on evildoers and what their end will be. My response as a Christian? – to “trust him, be still, refrain from anger, forsake wrath, fret not yourself” because of those evildoers. Next in my scheduled readings were chapters 67 and 97, declaring God’s sovereignty and rule over the nations that will rejoice because of His judgments and that those who love the Lord should hate evil. Wow.

I wrote plenty of notes to teach myself and remind myself of what God wanted me to know. Then, I thanked God for being the only voice that matters to speak into any situation. His Word shines brighter than artificial implements.

Tomorrow’s news or feed will no doubt provide another opportunity to be reactive or quickly like and share someone else’s ideas. Be careful of subtly distracting enlightenment cloaked in self-proclaimed authority, especially unvetted religious authority. If God’s Spirit lives within us and we can read and understand God’s Word ourselves, we already have what we need to light our path clearly and brightly, and that is enough.

Ashlie Miller and her husband raise their five children in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

By Ashlie Miller

Learning to swim has become a rite of passage in our home. Each child has desired swim lessons around the age of 5 or so. My youngest has not yet wanted that, though. He would rather figure things out on his own or with me, Mom. We get along swimmingly as we hold our breath while wearing our goggles to sit together on the bottom of the pool, compete to grab diving sticks (our favorites look like silly monsters), or jump in simultaneously, delighting in the myriad of bubbles engulfing us. 

There is one thing, however, into which I cannot completely coax him—resting on his back, afloat on the water. It is one of my favorite things—letting go, relaxing, and letting buoyancy do what it does best. I trust the water to hold me, almost thrusting me upwards to the surface of the water.

On a recent mommy-son swim, it occurred to me that lying on my back in the water was a great picture of faith. I never fully appreciated the object lesson of trusting a chair to hold me when I sit down to be a great picture of faith. Many use the illustration. But I can see that chair. I can probably even see if it looks a bit faulty – if screws or nails are missing or if joints seem to be coming apart. But floating on something seemingly invisible is different.

Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). In the pool, although I can see the movement of the water and reflection of the sun underneath, I cannot really see the forces that would hold me afloat. I hope I can float and the water will keep me in that position. I see no evidence that it will when simply glancing at the water. 

In the mind and eye of a child, it almost looks like levitating on thin air. My son has heard the story of his unsuccessful attempt to fly from the top of the flight of stairs when he was less than two years old. “Hey brother, watch me fly!” I heard him yell as I was in the kitchen that day. Upon hearing a THUD, I ran around the corner to see that he had landed hard near the bottom. What a lesson! Why would he assume that water would fare him much better?

But he can see that Mommy puts her faith in the water. She is calm and serene and eager to enjoy an all-too-brief moment floating, looking up at the Carolina-blue sky above. Will he also see my faith in things or Someone more important? 

I hope he will soon learn lessons of faith—not just in the water, not just in Mommy’s faith, but in real, meaningful, abiding faith for himself.

Ashlie Miller spends summer days playing at the pool, going on walks, reading books, and waiting for summer storms on the porch. You may email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com, and she will answer you while on the porch or by the pool.

By Ashlie Miller

One evening this week, amid a gentle rain shower, I stretched out on the couch on our porch and drifted off to sleep to the steady lullaby. My weary body and spirit craved the refreshment of the rain. Earlier that morning, I had walked in the humidity, noticing water running off lawns into the storm drains. What a waste! Yet, the parched ground is thirsty for water, and sprinklers will have to suffice in the absence of precipitation.

The earth knows what it is like to be thirsty. But do we? Physically, I wonder. I laugh at myself upon recovering from the sounds of thermal double-wall bottles clanging with a heart-stopping shatter to the floor. I am amused and confounded by the status symbol, even among tween girls, over having multiple Stanley cups. If ever a generation lacked the sensation of physical thirst, it would be the age and culture in which we live. 

However, can you go back in time with me to a more dehydrated generation? Remember running through the oscillating sprinklers and then panting to grab a hosepipe? What about enduring PE laps or the long class that seemed it would never dismiss and gathering in front of the water fountain for your turn for a drink? We can remember being thirsty and longing for that moment around the shiny silver bowl. If you had access to a water cooler with individual cups, you were in heaven!

When was the last time you were spiritually thirsty? You woke up in the morning desperate for answers or the presence of a God. Perhaps sleep alluded you as you wrestled through the night until you flicked on a low-watt light to read a few passages from a large, well-worn book to speak peace and comfort. You set your calendar by what was happening at church. You longed for fellowship with your brothers and sisters – to worship, share hope, and hear the truth. Maybe you have never experienced the latter but long for some community and being known.

But things have changed. Life is so busy. Like grabbing the Sundrop, the extra tall latte, or a canned energy drink, you have filled your life with other things to quench your thirst and keep you moving. Self-care can mask deep hurts and spiritual thirst. Focusing on our emotional and psychological selves and taking ownership of our identity can even get in the way of quenching our souls. The mesmerizing LED screen is not filling it, nor is the constant stream of activity, workouts, or other substances. Even an educated listening ear can only sometimes get to the bottom of it or offer what will truly satisfy.

Like David in Psalms 63, let us be seekers, realizing our thirst can only be quenched in God through His Son Jesus because His “steadfast love is better than life.” What a statement! David likely wrote it in the wilderness when being hunted down mercilessly. Yet, he knew what could quench his thirst.

I still say there’s nothing quite like a gulp of cool water from a hosepipe after a strenuous activity, and there is nothing as refreshing as Jesus in my life. When have you last experienced something sustaining that is “better than life”?

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, are recipients and givers of grace among their church family at Mission Bible Church in Charlotte.

By Ashlie Miller

Like many NC walkers in the summer, I try to get my steps in early – and it seems that “early” gets earlier each day with the increased humidity. Inevitably, I stop in my tracks at least a few times a week because something, usually minuscule, is stuck in my socks. There is probably a seed of some sort that I have not yet recognized, but without fail, there it is, poking through my sock onto my ankle. It is not quite the “thorn in the flesh” that the apostle Paul describes, yet it does leave me pondering.

Naturally, I pause to remove this tiny sliver and carry on so that I may enjoy—or, lately, endure—my walk. Although I almost anticipate this regular occurrence, I often attempt to press on, assuring myself that I can get accustomed to it. Perhaps I could, but I am certain that allowing it to remain will, at best, mess with my thoughts as I try to have a peaceful walk or, at worst, actually cause a scratch that I would later have to tend to.

I notice that I am prone to pick up and carry other things with me unnecessarily on my journey – worries, concerns, and anxieties. I am not always as prompt in removing them from my focus or redirecting my gaze. They begin to wear at my spirit and emotions from time to time. They can even wear on my mind, causing me to make irrational judgments or decisions if I am not careful. Does that ever happen to you? What little things seek to take over your focus, emotions, or spiritual direction? Are you pressing on, assuming you will get accustomed to these nagging worries?

Just like this little sliver slips into my socks on my walks, so do cares and worries creep into my thoughts even while listening to uplifting music and looking at the flowers that adorn my walk. The physical irritation has become a prompt for me to cast my cares on Jesus daily.

I have been reading Psalms this summer with some of my neighbors. There are several songs of ascent, which were often shared while pilgrims traveled up to Jerusalem. So many times, these Psalms point us to look up and redirect our gaze despite the obstacles along our path. On my walks, with this sliver in my shoe, with Psalms echoing into my heart both as I ponder readings and listen to Psalms set to music, I am given regular opportunities to look up to heaven and cast my cares and worries to the One who perfectly made me and perfectly cares. He can hold these for me, mold them, and remake them into trust and peace.

Have you been on any walks lately? How is the journey going? What slivers might affect your pace or focus?

Ashlie Miller walks her nearby neighborhoods in Concord, NC, usually by herself, but sometimes accompanied by her husband or one of their five children.

By Ashlie Miller

When did the idea of dependency become a weakness? Having several dependents looks good on tax forms. Having multiple children in public will get you lots of looks. But being dependent marks you as “weak.”

Besides, who can you depend on today anymore? Aren’t most of us self-obsessed, entitled consumers anyway? I am of a jaded generation with many cynical observations. 

It is easy to slip into that mindset. Many churches sit empty or near decline because of this perception. We assume that churches are filled with hypocrites that are self-centered. And some are. Some. But there is also a community unmatched by anything outside of Christ. 

I am regularly astounded upon meeting other Christians while on vacation or connecting with neighbors who are also like-minded and our ability to communicate on a level that is unlike any other relationship. We sense that we are more than passing strangers. There is a bond that connects us that is unexplainable and deeply relatable. 

My husband and pastor often says as he looks out on the church congregation, “The answer to your prayers may be sitting in the seat next to you.” I bear witness to it on many occasions. Ladies in my discipleship groups needing direction, a job, or answers for their health share their concerns. God answers their prayers through the counsel of those around them, sometimes with actual provisions. The family suffering grief, job loss, or prolonged illness and disease sees the church family rally around them with prayers, encouragement, and offers of tangible help.

It can be hard for me to admit when I need to depend on someone – trust issues, past hurts, and pride. Yet, when I share my needs, concerns, and doubts with those in the faith, I am blown away by how God meets me there. It may be with a young lady who has yet to experience anything on the path I have walked down, sitting across from me with wide eyes filled with hope, listening with empathy, and ready to remind me with verses she has read and fills her with promise. Sometimes, an older lady senses the season I am in, perhaps recalling her own time in that season, and gives me that knowing look, a hug, and a whisper. Other times, a text appears on my phone: “I am sending you a meal this week. I heard your hubby is traveling, and the week is pretty overwhelming.” Very often, the words from my pastor behind the pulpit, whom I have seen preach to himself or live the message in our home, encourage me. 

Friend, lay aside your preconceived notions that you must independently figure it all out. Even with Jesus as your guide, He regularly uses others to provide our needs materially and emotionally. And He wants to use you to help provide the needs of others. We were not meant to be an island, maybe more like an isthmus.

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, are recipients and givers of grace among their church family at Mission Bible Church in Charlotte.

By Ashlie Miller

Children rarely realize the freedom and beauty of being a child until it’s too late. They are grown, adulting, and burdened with decisions and bills before they remember the joy of childhood. Do you ever relish memories of not having to decide multiple times a day what you will eat, how much sleep you should get (taking naps!), having events and experiences planned out for you, and not having to pack for them yourself? Oh, the bliss of those evenings we would arrive home late, and after having fallen asleep in the car, Mom would carry me into the house, place me on the bed, change my clothes for me, and tuck me in. She knew just what I needed. I rested in the care of her love, utterly dependent on her attending to my needs. 

This week, I reflect on my dependence upon God.

“Christianity is a crutch.” I have heard that one before; maybe you have, too. Perhaps you have even said it, boasting that you are strong enough to live without Christianity. You’ve made it this far after all, haven’t you? Then, why does anyone need Jesus?

One summer long ago, I realized how dependent I truly was and how I needed Jesus. Perhaps one could call that my “Dependence Day” – my day of salvation from myself and my sins. Resting in the arms of the One who created, saved, and sustains me enables me to trust God fully as He directs my path, making even the most crooked journey lead straight to His plan for my good and His glory (Proverbs 3:5-6). I can attest to times when my path did not look perfectly straight and neatly laid out before me, but He placed me where I needed to be in the season.

Imperfect as I am, I make mistakes, and sometimes, my journey meets trials and obstacles. But I rest assured that when my footing slips, God’s unfailing love supports me (Psalm 94:18). Wow! My Creator did not just stop with creating me and leaving me to figure it all out. He supports me lovingly. When cares of life threaten to drown me in despair, I can cast (or violently throw) them on the Lord because He cares for me (1 Peter 5:7). When I meet an onslaught of opposition, feel weak, and can’t see in the apparent darkness engulfing me, I sense my Father strengthening my heart (Psalm 73:26), fighting while I stand still (Exodus 14:14), turning darkness into light (Psalm 18:28), delivering me (Psalm 3:7), and providing a safe refuge (Psalm 16:1 – for one of MANY examples). God is also a comfort in grief, a friend in my loneliness, a good Father when I feel orphaned, a good Shepherd, a teacher, forgiving, compassionate, just, and righteous.

Having to define myself by the current culture’s values does not sustain nor fulfill me, for that is ever-changing. I am weak, and I am utterly dependent. But I rest securely dependent on Jesus. 

Have you had a “Dependence Day”? If not, how is independence going for you? It sounds like a lot of hard work. If you do have a declared day of dependence, share your journey with someone soon. Help them see the freedom in dependence!

Ashlie Miller and her husband, Chad, utterly depend on God as they raise their five children in Concord, NC.