Weaving God’s Word into every fiber of our lives.

The new year sometimes doesn’t feel safe for me anymore. I find myself bracing for what may come instead of walking in the knowledge of God’s faithfulness. But we can stop bracing. Our Shepherd is near.

I have a habit of looking back. And what I see there in the distant and not-so-distant past is helping me to live intentionally now. I am learning the art of looking back and pressing on.

We aren’t breathing like we’re supposed to. We aren’t drinking deeply. We are missing out on the abundance Jesus offers us. So I’m establishing some holy rhythms to help me live. I hope you’ll join me!

I’ve served at a lot of camps. And I’ve taken part in a lot of worship services. But seeing my own child lift his hand in worship was a stark reminder of how important my own worship of Jesus is in the life of my children. My worship overflows onto them, either pointing them to Jesus or to myself.

I’ve spent a lot of time chasing my own dreams apart from Jesus. And those dreams usually wind up covered in dust or eaten by moths, just like cheap plastic trophies. May knowing Christ be the only trophy—our greatest prize.

Rest has been on my heart for a long time, probably because I have struggled with finding it. Neglecting real spiritual rest always leads to the neglect of our souls. We were designed with a need to pause, and it can look more practical than we think.

Jealousy robs us of so much. It leads to comparison and causes us to lose sight of all God wants to do in us and through us. But what if we fix our eyes on Jesus? What if we stop looking side to side at what everyone else is doing to serve Him? What could God do with our humble hearts when we learn to cheer for others?

There’s a pull to seek validation from others in the way we serve God. There’s this allure of a spotlight. But what we do daily, in the seemingly mundane moments, matters so much more than what we do publicly. God sees your faithfulness in the small things. And He delights in it.

Maybe we’ve glamorized the big stuff. Maybe we’ve allowed comparison to rob us of the joy which comes from giving God what little we have and allowing Him to use it and multiply it. God uses the little. The small. And He delights in our obedience.

I took off a necklace I’ve worn for three years. It’s tarnished and entirely changed from when I first put it on. But so am I —transformed and marked by grief and God’s goodness.