Jenn Kish

12/26/2025

This is my Christmas Eve communion. It’s broken. Crushed. Messy.

It’s my fault. I had a wiggly three year old in my lap. He has no understanding of the sacred moments of reading the scripture and sharing in the Lord’s Supper. He knows it is 45 minutes past dinner time and that cracker arrived at exactly the moment his teaspoon of patience for sitting still had run dry.

And I had a thought as I attempted to break that tiny little cracker into two whole pieces. Ordinarily, I would have given the cracker to my boy but my heart ached for the participation of something holy in the midst of this busy season. I held tightly to the pieces of that cracker as I prayed that God would draw my heart closer to his.

And God came to me the same way he always does- in the middle of my mess.

As I looked at that cracker broken in my hand I was convicted by my efforts to perfect everything.

Maybe we’ve made communion too clean, too neat, too perfect. The symbolism is heavy on broken yet I always receive something whole. There is great beauty in the image of the Lord Jesus ripping bread into jagged, uneven pieces and passing them around the table.

There is nothing neat about his broken body. There is nothing clean about the stripes upon his back. There is nothing whole about his hands nailed to a cross.

And in my mess, the chaos, the brokenness he comes as One who’s been crushed. He was broken so that I could be made whole.

And that crushed little cracker was an attempt to quiet my boy in a moment of messy sacredness.

And that crushed little cracker reminded me that I must also be broken. To live in perfection is to live without a need for the One who sustains me. I’m guilty of chasing perfection and leaning on my own abilities. There’s nothing like a squirmy three year old to quickly bring me into reality and remind me that I can’t actually control anything.

Cause living this life the way God intended is messy. It’s broken. It’s crushing.

In this season of holly jolly we are so easily distracted by the elusive perfect gifts, perfect meals, perfect homes and perfect moments. We forget about the messy first Christmas.

With no shower and likely little water available for bathing, I imagine Mary was a bit of a mess. The cold stone manger wasn’t sanitary. Joseph’s feet would have been filthy from the journey. And yet, that messy nativity brings us perfect peace.

If your heart, home, or children seem a bit messy tonight, rest in the truth that God is glorified in our mess. Because only when we come face to face with our own brokenness, will we allow him to come in and make us whole. And that, my friends, is the purpose of Christmas.

12/22/2025

Twice today my youngest one has gotten himself into trouble. He’s not typically much of a trouble maker so the second time I took notice that something wasn’t quite right.

I called him into my room. I could hear him starting to cry as he walked down the stairs, he was certain that he was going to be disciplined. I had gathered a few of his favorite books and when he made it to me, I pulled that little guy into my lap and started reading. His tears dried quickly as he settled into my arms. We read several books and sang a song together before I ever mentioned his behavior.

As I got ready to send him off to bed, I simply said “you made some bad choices, today, I want you to make good ones tomorrow.” He said “okay, mama,” and then he was out of my lap and headed to bed.

Tonight was a night for mercy and grace. I’ve been keeping a busier schedule lately and I sensed that his misbehavior could have been a reaction to that. So, I chose to spend time with him doing one of our favorite things instead of discipline tonight.

As I held my son, I remembered how God loves me. There are so many times I hear him say, “you made some bad choices today, I want you to make good ones tomorrow.” He’s heavy on mercy and generous with grace. And now I’m going to pretend I can climb up in his lap and I’ll read stories of his goodness and faithfulness before I fall asleep tonight.

12/22/2025

“Why can’t you just let us live our lives?”

“You live your life and I’ll live mine.”

“Why do Christians always stick their noses in everyone else’s business?”

You may hear phrases like this from time to time. Many may wonder why we feel like we have to “push our agenda” on others. I want to shed a little light, for those who genuinely may not know.

We are the watchmen.

In the book of Ezekiel scripture records a story about the watchman. The watchman is responsible for alerting the people when an enemy is approaching. If the watchmen calls out and the people ignore him, their blood is on their own hands. If the watchman fails to call out and the people are destroyed, their blood is on his hands. The scripture goes on to compare this to our responsibility as followers of Christ.

I tell you about Jesus Christ and urge you to turn from your sin and to follow him because as the watchman, I am compelled to alert you.

I believe God’s word in totality and it teaches that God has created boundaries to keep us safe. When we live outside of those boundaries, we are living in sin. Sin always-always- leads to destruction and death.

These aren’t popular words that create large followings on the internet. If I wanted to draw a crowd I’d speak much differently to you. I’d tell you that God wants to make you wealthy, happy and influential. I would tell you that you can live your life any way you please and that’s okay with him.

But I am a watchman. So, instead I must tell you to submit your life to Jesus Christ. I have to point you to what God calls sin and encourage you to ask forgiveness. If you’ve read this far you are already seeking for something and may I suggest that you’ve found it? If you’re searching for something more- start with Jesus.

Those of us who walk with Christ do not live a life free of trouble. That’s not what I am offering here. But every single Christian that tells a story of suffering would end their story the same way, they’d tell you that God has been faithful every single day. When we fail him, when life is too much, when death stands at our doorstep- he is faithful and his promises endure.

As watchmen, every Christian you meet is responsible for telling you about the gospel of Christ. That is why we won’t stop, we won’t be silenced and we won’t take this job lightly.

It’s because of God’s great love for you that he has placed a watchman in your life.

So, I’ll stand here on this post searching for the enemy and calling out to every one I see-

“Repent, repent and turn to the Lord. His return is imminent and his promise secure.”

It’s my responsibility to tell you, because

I’m the watchman.

12/19/2025

Thirty three years after that miraculous Christmas night in Bethlehem Jesus stood before Pilate. Pilate questioned Jesus and could find no fault in him. In an attempt to wash his hands of the conviction, he turned his attention to the Jews.

It is Jewish tradition that a prisoner is released in celebration of Passover. One, who is guilty, is freed from the penalty of their crimes.

Pilate has two prisoners. One is called Barabbas who is guilty of many crimes, among them are treason and murder. The other is Jesus Christ, the son of Mary, who stands innocent before the crowd.

Pilate addresses the Jews. “Which man shall I set free?”

“Give us Barabbas!”

No, that can’t be right. Barabbas should go free? With his record of crimes, his guilt is certain! How can this be?

Again, the question is presented. “Which man shall I set free?”

“Give us Barabbas!”

And a third time. “Which man shall I set free?”

The crowd is louder now and more certain. “Give us Barabbas!”

And with that, Barabbas is set free. His debt erased, his burden lifted. The innocent man, Jesus of Nazareth, would take his place on that cross.

Jesus, God made flesh, is sentenced to death by crucifixion.

We may be over two thousand years beyond that moment in time but it’s clear to me now that I am Barabbas. I am the one who owes a debt I cannot pay. I am the one with a treasonous heart. I am the one who is guilty.

And yet I am free. Because Jesus yielded his life for mine.

That’s what Christmas means to me. It’s not only a celebration of the miraculous birth but also the sacrificial death.

It’s the hope for the Barabbas in you and the Barabbas in me.

So, while we celebrate the baby in a manger let us not forget the subsequent sacrifice of a Savior and the promise of a returning King!

12/18/2025

I stood in the doorway of a restaurant and waited as a precious lady shuffled toward me. She got all the way to the door and came to a stop. With her husband patiently holding her arm she began to repeatedly attempt to step but her foot just wouldn’t cooperate with her mind. She finally made it through and shuffled to the next door. The previous scenario repeated again when she reached the next doorway. I stood holding the door, waiting for her to come through. Her husband looked up at me and sweetly said “she does great until she gets to a doorway; it’s Parkinson’s and it’s hard.” He smiled at me and turned his attention back to his wife. He gently encouraged her to take the next step and finally she did.

I studied the two of them as they walked away from me. I wondered about their life together. I considered the ups and downs and wondered if she’d ever complained about his socks on the floor and if he’d ever snapped back about her nagging. I wondered if they’d spent a lifetime together, it seemed they had.

I began to reflect on my own marriage as my husband and I move closer to our 30’s. Okay, fine our mid 30’s. I wonder if I nag about the things that don’t even matter.

Perhaps these years where we find ourselves easily passing from doorway to doorway shouldn’t be spent fussing about empty soda cans or who forgot to pay the light bill. (Spoiler alert: it was me. It’s always me.) Maybe it’s not so important that he takes his dishes to the sink or that he cleans the bathroom counter after he shaves his beard. Maybe, just maybe, we should peek into the future and see what really matters.

Because when the days are many and the years are full, the only thing that will matter is if we can help each other make it through the doorways.

Tonight, I think I’ll just pick up those socks and wipe down that sink. Then I will thank God for the man that sleeps next to me.

12/17/2025

There’s not a single gift under my tree. I’m well aware that Christmas is in just a few days, my kids keep reminding me.

I’ve got a few presents hidden away in the closet waiting to be wrapped but this year feels like we need more than presents under the tree.

I think we need to be reminded that what we really need is the presence of Jesus.

Life. Is. So. Busy.

My to do list reminds me of all the places I need to be and all of the things I need to do. However, what I really want is to sit around the Christmas tree with my kids soaking in the story of Jesus, sharing the truth of the gospel and the confidence of his promised return.

Upon his return, what if he asks: “What did you do with Christmas? It was a perfect opportunity to share the story of the gospel. How did you make use of that?”

What if my response is that I spent 6 weeks in a hustle and bustle to find the perfect gift for every person on my list while neglecting the perfect gift that already resides within me?

Leave the holly jolly pressure behind and rest in the peace of a baby who came to save and redeem. A baby who no longer sleeps in a manger but sits on a throne in heaven where he advocates for you and me. What greater gift could we receive? What greater gift could we give?

12/16/2025

We were not meant for this!

We were not meant to absorb this much noise.
None of our ancestors, at any point, were assaulted with this much information.
Ever.

2.6 million YouTube videos are uploaded daily.
140 billion WhatsApp messages, daily.
We check our phones 200 times per day.
We spend about 7.5 hours on screens per daily.
Absorbing, on average, 11.8 hours—or around 34 gigabytes—of data and information every day.
EVERY DAY.

We don’t need it.
We definitely don’t need to know every grisly detail of every horrific event that happened this week, a la “doomscrolling”.

Make some tea,
go outside,
rest,
and turn off your phone during certain periods.

You weren’t meant for this.

12/16/2025

I saw a woman sitting in a waiting room. She had a baby in her lap, one sitting at her feet and one running in circles. The baby would cry, the child at her feet would ask for a snack and the other continues to run. Mama settled the baby, dug out a pack of crackers and calmly asked the runner to settle down. She would soothe one child just to have another become upset. She constantly calmed, corrected, fed and held.

I looked at my husband and said “she’s blessed beyond comprehension (and speaking from experience)I know it doesn’t feel like a blessing.”

I know her. I’ve been her. In many ways I’m still her. The mama with more babies than hands-and we all know that even one baby can make us wish we had more hands.

Many days it’s all we can do to make it from breakfast to nap-time and then from dinner to bedtime.

It’s messes and whining and diapers and sticky fingers. It’s crying for no known reason and tantrums over broken crayons. It’s holding one while feeding another. It’s finally getting them to sleep and wondering if you did enough, if you loved them enough today.

It’s falling asleep just to be woken right back up. Someone is sick or scared or just plain unhappy. It’s finally getting in the shower and hearing the baby cry. It’s wondering if they will ever be able to do anything on their own and then crying when they do.

And it doesn’t always feel like a blessing. It feels -sometimes- like a burden.

But looking at that mama yesterday, I could see something she couldn’t. I saw a woman giving of herself to care for another. It was a beautiful picture of motherhood. And while she may have felt a burden, all I could see was her blessing.

Maybe we could step back and take a look into our own windows. The blessing is in the giving. It’s in the emptying. It’s in the weary. It’s in the laying down of ourselves to care for another. It’s in the glory of the mundane.

If you’re surrounded by sticky hands and crying babies I pray that you can find the blessing in the burden.

It’s a blessing to be the mama with more babies than hands. 💗

12/15/2025

There are some things you can’t not fully understand about mothers, until you are one.

This weekend we had had all of our children together for multiple events. And I noticed I wasn’t constantly checking the location of my kids. I was not texting asking where they were or when to expect them or reminding them to let me know they’d arrived somewhere safely.

I felt something in my body relax when I saw all of their faces seated around the dinner table. (It was a pizza place dinner table and not my own but I’ll take it. 😉)

I felt peace.

At rest.

Complete.

Because when I can see them all, I don’t have to worry.

About how they are feeling.

If they are safe.

Or if the ambulance I passed on the highway is headed toward them.

A mama’s heart can fully rest when all of her children are in one place.

12/14/2025

When I was a young mama people would always warn, “oh, just wait until they are teenagers.” I began to worry that my sweet little babes would turn to monsters overnight! What was this dreaded season going to bring?

And then I made a decision, I was not going to dread or despair over any single season of their lives. We would figure it out, just like the toddler tantrums and the sibling spats- we would figure it out.

Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Teenagers are amazing people. They develop their own convictions, perspectives and (finally!) a sense of humor. I find great joy in listening, learning and laughing with my teens.

They don’t stop talking if you keep listening. I’ve heard people complain because their teens won’t talk to them. Listen, sometimes I’m in physical pain from holding my tongue but if you learn to listen to them- they will talk. Also- fast food is a great way to get them to talk to you.

Is this season challenging? Yes. But so was potty training.

You are the primary influence in your teen’s life. You may think it’s their friends- it’s not. You may think they don’t hear you- they do. What you think truly matters and your words and actions are still shaping them.

Keep your door open for late night conversations. Take them out for ice cream on a whim. Tell them you’re proud of them. Show them that they are important to you.

Find something you both enjoy and do it together. My daughter and I love to walk. My son and I love to watch football. We do these things together regularly.

Above all, tell them how much God loves them.

And don’t let anyone’s words leave you dreading an entire season of raising your children.

12/12/2025

💭 : hey, whatcha doing?

Me: just scrolling through her profile.

💭 : why?

Me: I don’t know. To see if she’s doing a better job at being a mom than I am.

💭 : does that matter to you?

Me: No. Yes. Maybe, I don’t know.

💭: Is that going to help you be a better mom?

Me: I’m just trying to see how she does it all. She seems to have everything, the career, the kids, the husband…

💭 : You have all of those things, too.

Me: well, yeah…but mine looks like such a mess and hers looks so easy, so perfect.

💭 : Yours looks like a mess? What part?

Me: The piles and piles of laundry. The unfinished Christmas cards. One of the kids has a project due today and I’m not sure they finished it last night. I really need to organize the kitchen cabinets. I don’t even want to mention the dishes, they seem to multiply! There just doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day and the mess feels overwhelming.

💭 : Yes, I see. Let me ask you a question. Where did you post ”the mess?”

Me: What?

💭 : your laundry? The unorganized cabinets? The unfinished project your son is working on? The dishes?

Me: I don’t understand.

💭 : I took a look at your profile and it looks like you had a great day. That picture of you reading a book to the kids, well it looks like a perfect moment. I noticed the pictures of the beach week, too. That looked like fun! Oh, and the day you cleaned out the garage, the picture makes me wonder how you keep things so organized. I don’t see any mess posted there.

Me: Well, yeah. I’m not going to post the mess! What would people think?!

💭 : 👀

Me: 👀

💭 : So, about that profile you’ve been studying…where’s her mess?

Me: Oh, I see- She didn’t post it, I guess.

💭 : 👀

Me: so, she’s just like me? Trying to be a good mom and wife and employee but not sure she’s doing it all well? Maybe sometimes she’s got messes, too?

💭 : Remember it’s best if you just focus on what is in front of you. Your work here is too important to be distracted by someone else’s highlights. It’s okay to look, but don’t forget if you’re only sharing the good stuff, they probably are, too.

Me: Of course, I see that now.

💭 : Also, you should take a look at your own highlights to help you remember that you’re doing a pretty good job at being a mama, too.

12/11/2025

This morning I looked out the window at an empty swing set and I was thrown ten years into the future. A future where the baby is 16 and the oldest is 27. A future where I won’t open the laundry room door to a pile the size of a refrigerator. Teens won’t lay in our bed and pour out their hearts. There won’t be legos scattered across the entire upstairs playroom. There won’t be 40 plastic cups in my sink. And my calendar…well it won’t involve driving kids back and forth from dance and basketball and soccer.

There’s purpose in the place I am in. I can’t lose sight of the work that must be done here. If I set my eyes on the finish line, the voice of the enemy quiets a bit.

Cause I’m here to show my kids what it means to walk with Jesus. I’m here to battle where they can not yet stand. I’m here to endure the day to day challenges set before us, because I long to see victory on the other side.