Jenn Kish

11/13/2025

Several years ago I pulled out my Bible to read the book of Job. Job is a hard read- it records the story of unimaginable tragedy in the life of one of God’s most faithful men.

Job is a story of loss, grief, sickness, and relationship issues. Job is often referred to as patient and long suffering. God describes him as righteous.

But it’s the description at the end of the book that is most striking to me.

Job is 42 chapters long. 41 of those chapters lay out the details of Job’s tragedies and illuminate his suffering.

But in the last chapter Job says about God, “my ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.”

Job readily admits that while things were going well, he knew all about God. But it was in the midst of devastation and loss that Job was able to see God.

This is how we often are in our own lives. We hear about God. We learn about God. We know about God. We sing about God. And while life rocks along with prosperity and health- this seems to be enough.

But when your world is turned upside down, when everything is falling apart - this is when we search for God.

We look to him for rescue, knowing he is our ever present help. We spend time in prayer and soak in his words. We may ask hard questions of him and maybe we even wonder if he hears us. But yet we are seeking him, pursuing him and leaning deep into his promises. And while we are hanging by a thread, God draws near and we can see his hand working in our lives. This is why Job makes the point to show us the distinction between knowing about God and seeing God.

The book of Job ends with the statement that “Job died old and full of years.”

And I wonder if there is more that we could ask for? Despite his great losses, Job died with fulfillment. He found that he was made whole when his eyes were opened and he could see God.

This is my prayer for us- that we would become women who not only know about God, but women who have seen God and have stories to tell about what he has done in our lives.

I pray, friend, that you would “see” God and that your life would be full.

11/12/2025

A few years ago I wrote a few viral posts about cell phone safety. It’s one of my soap box topics that I return to frequently. At the time I started writing about phones, my oldest child was 14. Now she is 20. This is what I learned.

For reference, we have six children ages 9-20.

When I started writing about setting boundaries with cell phones, I received a lot of push back. People said my kids would hate me. Others said they would sneak around behind my back. Some said my children would leave home as soon as they could and never look back. A few said my children would never speak to me when they were given the option. To say these comments didn’t give me any pause would be a lie. But my husband and I doubled down and stayed the course.

Last Sunday night, I cooked my children’s favorite meal. But this time my husband had to buy enough ingredients for me to triple the recipe. We have been doubling it for years, but I have now moved to tripling because my kids keep bringing more people to my Sunday night dinner table.

So, for those who were wondering, our cell phone boundaries did not make my children hate me.

Oh, maybe for a day or two here and there they hated the rules and didn’t understand the boundaries. We did have some pushback, some tears and frustration. But I think that’s a pretty normal and necessary experience when you’re raising kids.

What I learned is pretty simple. Kids need boundaries. They need adults to set expectations and hold them to a high standard. They need a constant and consistent safe home to provide refuge from the raging world outside. Unlimited cell phone access brings that raging world inside.

* Take the phone at night.
* Set up the parental controls to prevent night time communication with people outside of your home.
* No social media access until at least 16, preferably 18.
* Remove the internet browser.
* Check out who they are texting and communicating with most often.
* Make changes to these rules as they grow and mature and prove themselves capable.
* Be present. TALK to them.

To be very honest, it was hard. It was exhausting at times. All of the monitoring, all of the follow up to make sure they were holding up their end of the deal, all of the…parenting. Parenting is a contact sport, we can’t sit on the sidelines and pretend we are spectators.

Getting in the game is by far the harder choice but in the end, you get to share a dinner table with incredible young people. And hopefully, a pot full of their favorite meal.

11/11/2025

One of the most damaging teachings in the Christian community is the teaching of prosperity. Somehow we have linked the blessings we determine to be “good” to God’s love for us.

It sounds a lot more like worship of self than worship of God.

It is especially dangerous when trials come. Because sometimes a good, good Father allows hardship and suffering.

If you’ve been taught to only recognize God’s goodness when life is going your way then what happens when life doesn’t go your way?

When you lose the job. When you lose the marriage. When money is tight. When the kids are walking away from Jesus.

What happens then?

If the love of God is tethered only to the gifts of God, then we start to feel unloved in the hard.

But I’ve found:

God draws nearer in the darkness.

God holds me tighter in the suffering.

God teaches me lessons in the hard.

God grows me in the waiting.

God is faithful in the trials.

The blessing of God is not always found in promotions, vacations and abundance.

But I am blessed when he draws near in good times and bad.

Don’t get me wrong, every good thing in life comes from God, that is true. But hear me, your life won’t be filled with only good things. And when you’re finding more hard days than easy ones- it’s not because God doesn’t love you. It may be because he is growing you; it may be because we live in a sinful world and bad things happen. Either way, he is there. He is with you.

Like one of my favorite Pastors always says, “Not all things are good, but God can make good from all things.” (Based on Romans 8:28.)

10/10/2025

Homeschooling is messy. I don’t function well in mess. I like the clean, orderly look of a perfectly staged Pinterest image.

But, boy, there is so much LIFE here. The school books. The random dinosaur drawings. The toy shop magazine a sweet neighbor dropped off.

And the dinner plate.

That’s not random.

It’s the plate that a little boy keeps setting at an empty seat because his big sister is away and he just can’t stop the habit

Of setting her place at the table.

Her empty seat and clean plate remind me that the mess is worth every single second of time spent with my children.

Because one day, I’ll have a whole table

Of empty seats.

09/18/2025

I pulled an old out of my closet Bible this morning. This is the Bible I used early in my marriage and parenting years. You can’t tell from this picture but it is literally falling apart and I had to replace it.

I didn’t want to buy a new Bible. This one was familiar. Marked up, tear stained and dirty. Really dirty.

It carried me through learning to be a wife. It laid open on my kitchen table many mornings when my kids were little and I still worked a job outside of my home. It held me when I didn’t understand the sudden death of the man who chose to be my dad. It taught and trained me as baby after baby after baby was born. It moved then to my homeschool table where I spent many days copying scripture while my children learned math, english and history. It was one of my dearest friends.

When the time came to replace it, I felt as though I was losing a friend. It’s unusual how a Bible becomes part of the fabric of who you are.

So this morning when I dug it out of the corner it’s been living in, this little yellow notecard fell out. And along with it, a remembrance, a stirring, a smile.

“The Kishes will live by faith.”

Six words. I’m sure they were written in a moment of suffering that drove me to commit on pen and paper the desire to live only trusting in the divine will of God our Father.

“The Kishes will live by faith.”

There have been days that were only survived moment by moment because of the grace supplied in excess by God himself.

“The Kishes will live by faith.”

There have been days I wanted to wave a white flag of surrender. Days I wanted to quit on my calling. Days I wanted to tell Jesus that this is too much. This is too hard. This is not the way it’s supposed to go.

There have been days I have put too much emphasis on the opinions of others. There have been days I worked too hard to impress those that I don’t have to give an account to. There have been days where I have chosen to live by flesh.

But today, that fire is kindled anew.

The Kishes will live by faith.

09/11/2025

Every post on my feed is about Charlie, but this one is a MUST read.

“I believe that when Charlie Kirk’s body slumped to the concrete, his soul stood upright in heaven. Not limping. Not silenced. Not stunned. But crowned.

He didn’t fall.
He crossed.

The great cloud of witnesses gained another voice.
And I wonder if Stephen met him there.
The first martyr.
The man who got stoned for preaching what the crowd didn’t want to hear.
The man who, in his final breath, saw the heavens open.
The only time in all of Scripture we see Jesus standing at the right hand of God, rising to receive one of His own.

I like to believe He stood again.”

The Cross Still Offends
By Pastor Rich Bitterman

The bullet tore the air in half.

A folding chair rattled. A Bible dropped. A young man slumped sideways beneath a white event tent, eyes wide with the weight of eternity.

It was supposed to be a conversation. A “prove me wrong” segment. But this time, rebuttal came not with words, but with a rifle.

Charlie Kirk didn’t get to finish his sentence.

I got the news just before prayer meeting. I contemplated this death as I prepared to lead the saints in prayer. But I didn’t feel like praying. Not tonight. My hands were still. My mouth was ready. But my soul was pacing. Angry. Grieving. Tempted.

Tempted to grow quiet.
Tempted to sit this one out.
Tempted to wonder if any of this, faith, boldness, public gospel witness, is still worth it.

Because hatred in this country isn’t simmering anymore. It is boiling.

Europe is trembling. Israel is burning. Rockets lit the sky over Gaza again. And now, here on American soil, the blood of a Christian apologist paints the pavement of a university quad.

What do you do with that?

What do you say when courage gets gunned down in daylight?

Charlie Kirk was no perfect man. None of us are.

But he had backbone where most of us don’t anymore. He was a believer. Unashamed. Unafraid. He understood that real conversations only happen when truth is welcome at the table. And the truth he carried most was Christ.

He brought the gospel into public space on purpose. Because the gospel isn’t supposed to stay in church basements and private Bible studies. It is meant to confront. It is supposed to offend. It was not made for safety.

The Word became flesh and they nailed Him to a tree.

So of course they came for Charlie.

Of course they reached for a gun.

This is what evil does when it runs out of arguments. It doesn’t reason. It kills.

That’s the part that catches in my throat. Not just the sadness, but the strategy of hell behind it.

The Enemy wants us afraid.
He wants us to see what happened to Charlie and backpedal.
He wants the rest of us to whisper, to soften the message, to believe the lie that faith should stay private.

But Christ never whispered.
He preached in temples, on hillsides, in courtrooms, at dinner tables.
And when they told Him to be quiet, He picked up His cross.

Not a symbolic one.
A real one.
Heavy. Bloody. Splintered.

When Jesus said, “Follow Me,” He didn’t hand out maps. He handed out crosses.

That’s what I remembered tonight.

I sat in our prayer space, surrounded by saints who had brought prayer lists and worn Bibles. And I realized I didn’t want to lead them in mourning. I wanted to lead them into battle. Not with banners or fists, but with open Bibles and tear-stained prayers.

The kind of war that kneels in gravel beside the wounded, hands them living water, and refuses to leave. The kind that speaks both mercy and judgment without flinching. The kind Charlie died for.

This world is not a friend to grace. But grace isn’t fragile.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?”
Paul didn’t leave that question unanswered.

“Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?”
—Romans 8:35

He piles up every fear you and I carry and then sets them on fire.

“No. In all these things we are more than conquerors.”

That means bullets don’t win. Slander doesn’t win. Prison bars don’t win. Death doesn’t win.

You can lose everything in this world and still walk into glory with your head lifted high. Because the love of God in Christ Jesus isn’t suspended by headlines or gunfire.

There are two worlds unfolding right now.

The one you see.
And the one you don’t.

One is filled with chaos. The other is filled with crowns.

I believe that when Charlie Kirk’s body slumped to the concrete, his soul stood upright in heaven. Not limping. Not silenced. Not stunned. But crowned.

He didn’t fall.
He crossed.

The great cloud of witnesses gained another voice.
And I wonder if Stephen met him there.
The first martyr.
The man who got stoned for preaching what the crowd didn’t want to hear.
The man who, in his final breath, saw the heavens open.
The only time in all of Scripture we see Jesus standing at the right hand of God, rising to receive one of His own.

I like to believe He stood again.

Are you afraid?

Do you feel the tremble in your spirit?

Do you wonder if it’s still worth it to speak boldly, to carry your Bible, to preach the gospel in a world that doesn’t just disagree but wants you gone?

You’re not alone.

You’re not weak for feeling that.
But you are called to something stronger than silence.

Don’t let fear become your theology.

The cost is high. But the reward?

The reward is Christ. And He’s not a concept. He’s a King.

Heaven is not empty.

It is filled with scarred saints who refused to bow to fear.
Men who were stoned.
Women who were burned.
Children who sang while the flames climbed.

And every last one of them arrived.

There is no difficulty that can cancel the promise of God.
There is no persecution that can derail your destination.
There is no sniper’s bullet that can separate a soul from Christ.

Your life is not measured by how long you live on earth, but by how much of it was spent pointing to heaven.

Paul said, “I have fought the good fight… I have kept the faith.”
Then he looked toward the reward.
Not a monument. Not a mention in history books.
But a crown.
Handed to him by the One with nail marks still in His hands.

So let me say this clearly.
We do not mourn like the world mourns.
We do not write eulogies dripping with sentiment.
We sing songs of resurrection.
We carry the banner of a Kingdom that does not tremble.

Charlie Kirk did not die for nothing.
He died carrying the same message you and I must now carry forward.

The cross stands tall.
The tomb is still empty.
And the gospel has not lost one ounce of power.

So pick up your cross.
Wipe your eyes.
And keep going.

The crown is worth it.
The King is coming.
And there’s still time to speak.

Even if they shoot.

Lord, give us courage.
And if not safety, give us joy.
For we carry not just the message, but the marks.
And You are worth every bruise.

07/25/2025

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