Suffering, Featured, Family, Faith
Courtney Reissig
Sin is Like Cancer

One of the scariest things in the early days of my diagnosis is that the pathology was unclear. Best case scenario, the cancer was contained. Worst case scenario, it had spread beyond what they could imagine. This fear was heightened by the fact that all the normal tests that catch cervical cancer failed to detect mine. I was diagnosed long after they usually diagnose women. And that terrified every medical professional I saw.

Sin is Like Cancer

Write Before You've Arrived

Write Before You've Arrived

The process of writing is such an up and down experience for me. As I prepare to launch my second book out into the world, I have been reflecting on the nature of writing, the difficulty of writing, and the reality that so often when we write (or teach in general), we are writing before we’ve arrived. And that’s a good thing.

When I write, I am painfully aware of my sin. I see how I don’t measure up. I don’t always do what I am calling others to. Instead, I feel like a fraud. My words seem unclear. I want to be faithful, but it doesn’t “feel” faithful. Are these questions and fear unique to me? I am sure not. The human experience is a universal one, so I imagine that by throwing this out there, insecurities and all, there will at least be one writer/teacher who wonders these very things. Or at least, I hope so.

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The Fearful Pregnancy

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The Fearful Pregnancy

It’s not the baby that scares me, it’s all that could go wrong. And with my history, I have had enough go wrong to know that even a growing baby and strong heartbeat don't guarantee a positive outcome. Looking down the mountain of pregnancy, I know there is only one way out of this thing. I will deliver this baby either in a rush of exhilarating joy, or a rush of grief. It sounds morbid, but of all the things that I’ve faced in my life, pregnancy is one that has scared me most. I spend the better part of nine (more like ten) months in a moderate state of panic.

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A Day for All Women (Not Just the Privileged)

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A Day for All Women (Not Just the Privileged)

I’m usually pretty behind on the news, though this week I’ve been paying attention to the A Day Without a Woman strike set to happen today. The organizers of the strike are calling on women to either refrain from shopping, wear red, or stay home from paid or unpaid work. While they acknowledge this is not a possibility for many women (and say that they strike for those women, too), it strikes (no pun intended) me as a fairly privileged event—and therefore not for all women. 

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When Women Learn From Each Other

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When Women Learn From Each Other

Last year I was asked who the most influential Christian woman was in my life. I was sitting at a table with a bunch of other women, and as I listened to them recount women (some well-known, many not), I felt a little silly about my own answer—Elisabeth Elliot. I don’t know her. I’ve never met her. Over the years, I’ve read nearly everything she has ever written, but I only know her in the context of her books. Besides that, I’m in the dark.

Like many in our connected, Internet age, I have been discipled by women (and men) whom I do not actually know.

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Black History Month and the Women Who Are Nameless (An adapted repost)

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Black History Month and the Women Who Are Nameless (An adapted repost)

When was the last time you went to your doctor? How about your OBGYN? Did you wonder how this specialty of medicine came into existence? I hadn’t given it much thought until I listened to a program on NPR a few weeks ago about the father of modern gynecology—J. Marion Sims.

But I don’t want to talk about him, at least not directly. February is Black History Month (and March is Women's History Month), so I want to talk about the women who made his discoveries possible. The women he practiced on. The women he studied. And more importantly, I want to talk about the women he exploited to find cures to ailments many of us no longer are at risk of facing.

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A Review of "Holy Labor: How Childbirth Shapes a Woman's Soul"

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A Review of "Holy Labor: How Childbirth Shapes a Woman's Soul"

If you are pregnant, or have been pregnant, you likely want good resources to equip you in your mothering. You may read books on pregnancy, labor and delivery, and even how to care for a newborn. But do you look for books that equip you to think through pregnancy, labor, and delivery from a theological perspective? Maybe you do, but, like me, your search has left you empty-handed. I have long wanted a resource that I could not only use for myself, but also give to other women as they wrestle through the deeply theological nature of pregnancy and birth.

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Romans 13 in the Age of Trump

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Romans 13 in the Age of Trump

Eight years ago my mom happened to be in town during President Obama’s first inauguration. As a daughter of a political junkie, we watched the ceremony, the balls, and the celebration that comes with the peaceful transfer of power in a democratic nation. Four years ago, I watched his second inauguration in the warmth of my own home while big and pregnant with the twins. Even though I didn’t vote for him, I appreciated what his inauguration represented. I’ve watched his state of the union addresses. I enjoy the political process in our country, even if my preferred candidate doesn’t always win. 

But I’m struggling with this inauguration.

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The Baby Who Almost Wasn't

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The Baby Who Almost Wasn't

I’ve spent the better part of the first trimester wondering if I would even make it to the second. And yet, here I am, rapidly growing belly and all. But to rejoice in the baby now means understanding all that this baby has endured up to this point. You see, it was just 8 weeks ago that we were certain that this baby was never going to make it outside of me alive. Here is the story of the baby who almost wasn’t. And how God surprises us even when all seems lost.

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Football, Domestic Violence, and Raising Sons

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Football, Domestic Violence, and Raising Sons

My grandpa coached football for his entire career. He gave his life to the sport, playing it in college and then spending his retirement years watching local teams play wherever he lived. My dad played football in college, coached my brothers growing up, and then enjoyed watching them play in high school and college. My husband loves football, joining the many men (and women) mourning the impending end of the football season. Even our youngest son loves football, saying one of the few words he knows (“football”) whenever he sees a game on TV. I have been surrounded by football enthusiasts and athletes my entire life, even though I have only a small interest in it. But I appreciate it.