Step Out



Dear Friends,

This may be a record, even for me, sixteen weeks without a word. I apologize. My commitment to this space is waning, has been waning for a year now. I have no vision for it, and without a vision, I find it very difficult to keep walking the road. I see glimmers of… something… along the horizon, but they’re faint, and I can’t quite make them out yet. I’ve been standing still for a long time, squinting into the darkness and hoping to see more clearly. It’s not working. I think this way is made by walking. Dang it.

For those of you who have been faithfully hanging out here and reading my words for lo these many years, I once again say thank you. Thank you for reading what I write, for encouraging me, for sticking around even when I don’t, and for giving me a reason to keep coming back.

Though I have been silent here, I have been writing elsewhere, and I wanted to pop in and let you know. That feels presumptuous. But I am setting aside my fear of presumption (I’m working on setting aside fear entirely, but God has a lot more work to do in that department!) and letting you know anyway:

First, an essay about Ordinary Time for Velvet Ashes. It’s a celebration of small victories…though I begin to glimpse that no true victory is small.

Second, a revised version of my essay “The Stories Are True” has been published at The Cultivating Project. I have wrestled with this essay for three years, and I am still not happy with it; it does not crackle with the life and light that infused the experience about which I write. After so much rewriting and revising, I am afraid I may have leached out what life was in it, but I let it go imperfectly into the interwebs and pray for the grace to become a better writer.

Third, a sermon I preached back in July on the parables of the treasure and the pearl, which talks about anxiety and small (and not so small) victories (along with a few other things).

But if I were you, I’d skip that sermon, and listen instead to “Go,” the sermon that Jeff VanDuzer preached the week after I did. I’ve been listening to his sermons for 24 years now, and they never fail to point me to God and exhort me to action. This particular sermon resonated with me on so many levels, starting with the one-word title right through to the promise from Revelation with which it ends. Especially if you’re feeling stuck or discouraged, please listen to it.

In closing, I want to share one of my favorite quotes ever, from Lilias Trotter, who gave up a promising artistic career in the late 1800’s to become a missionary to Algeria (if you’ve not read her story, you really should). It’s been a touchstone for me for the past two years, and it fits perfectly with Jeff’s sermon (which you really need to listen to!):

When it comes to prayer for the personal needs of our souls, we do not come again and again to wring an unwilling answer out of our Father but to search in His Word till He gives a promise which meets our case and then to step out on it in the bare faith which believes that it receives.

My friends, on this late summer day, may the sun warm you and breezes cool you and God be always in your heart and mind. And may we all step out on God’s promises in the bare faith that believes that it receives.

With gratitude,


  • June

    I wondered if you were writing elsewhere. I have missed your posts and have enjoyed seeing glimpses of you through Jody’s FB shares. I hope you will keep walking this path, however frequent the stops might be. The Trotter quote is amazing. I’ve seen it somewhere before and used it a month or so ago in one of my blogs. I very much need to act on the truth of it during this current trial. Blessings on your week, Kimberlee.

  • Jody Ohlsen Collins

    Look at you….. scattering your seed into the interweb wind, letting it land where others can hear your voice.
    Thank you for the Lilias quote about prayer. God has many good things in store, my friend.

  • K. C. Ireton

    “Good is always coming.” So said wise old Uncle George (MacDonald). Thank you for reminding me, Jody, and for encouraging me to keep writing and sharing what I write.

  • K. C. Ireton

    Thank you, June. You are one of my most faithful readers, and I am more grateful than I can say. I’m sorry to hear you’re going through a difficult time. I pray peace and courage over you in the days and weeks to come. May we both have the courage to step out in bare faith, believing that God will keep His Word.

  • Nancy Ruegg

    I listened to that podcast of your sermon, “The Treasure and the Pearl.” Especially appreciated the portion on scorn–even when it’s just in our heads. Caught myself scorning a young man on the street for his attire and demeanor; turned it into a prayer as the result of your teaching. Discovered it feels much better to pray than scorn! Thank you, Kimberlee, for ministering joy-in-practice to me, and God speed as you step out on his promises!

  • K. C. Ireton

    Thank you, Nancy. To think that I could teach you anything is a marvel, as you are one of the most God-conscious people I’ve ever met; I so deeply appreciate your reading (and listening to) my words. Bless you!

  • Nancy Ruegg

    Oh, my goodness, Kimberlee. I’m the one to marvel that you would have that impression of me. Praise God for his influence in my life–in spite of all the times I get in his way! Your words are a supreme encouragement: in spite of what we might feel, God can still shine through. P.S. I neglected to mention how much I appreciated your honesty, humility, and passion as you preached!

  • K. C. Ireton

    God can and does shine through. I am coming to believe it’s His mercy to us that we don’t see our own brightness and can only see it as it’s reflected back to us in others’ eyes. I think Emily said something along these lines at the retreat we were both at–how the berries she saw shining in the sun were unaware of their own lustre; it was she, not they, who saw their beauty. I think that’s one of the reasons we need community around us–to help us to see through other eyes, including seeing ourselves through those other eyes. It both convicts and encourages us.