Dust, Redeemed

I believe in a God of little things.

Of big things, too, but also an orchestrator of little things–the kind I overlook on a daily basis, but occasionally catch a glimpse of.

Sunday morning as I got ready for church, I listened to Gungor’s “Beautiful Things.” It had been a while since I listened to it, and I realized we hadn’t sung it in church for a while either.

When I arrived at church that morning, there was “Beautiful Things” on the set list.

A little thing, and just the one I needed.

Not only is it a gorgeous song, it’s one that holds a lot of meaning. Last spring we had a worship service in our building before all the construction had been completed. As literal dust caked the soles of our shoes and hung in the air, we sang the words “You make beautiful things out of the dust,” laced with our hopes for the ways we’d see God work there. It was a glorious, goose bump and tear-inducing moment.

And this week, as we sang it again, I looked around at the nicely painted walls, the finished floor, the rows of people who likely didn’t even know the church existed those months ago, and it was a goose bump and tear-inducing moment again. It has been so exciting to be part of the church as we take up residence in our new building, figuring out who we are as a church and what it means for our community and how we use this gift of space.

We have physically seen God make beautiful things out of dust.

While “Beautiful Things” is certainly fitting for my church, it also feels fitting on a personal level at the start of a new year. Every year brings with it some “dust”—some unexpecteds that we’d rather do without. 2013 didn’t have as many as some of my other years, but it still had them.

It also had moments of seeing how God can use the dust of years gone by to do something amazing.

Even beautiful.

So that’s what I’m looking forward to this year: the ways that God redeems dust and turns it into good things.

Maybe it’ll be more of a dust-accumulating year than a dust-redeeming one, but I’m hoping I’ll know enough to pay attention. It may not always be in big ways or ones that I see right away, or there may be dust that is only and ever that—dust—but there is possibility.

I believe in a God who redeems dust.

Til next time…


p.s. How have you seen God redeem dust?


Top Posts of 2013

Another year is almost over, and again I’m wondering exactly how that happened. I’m not really all that old, but sometimes the way the years slip by makes me feel like I am. 2013 contained a decent amount of blogging from me, though not as much as perhaps I originally intended–so these things go. My piece Giving Up the White Dress appeared on Prodigal Magazine this year, which was one of my blogging highlights. And here, in no particular order, are 7 top posts from 2013.


“I Love Jesus, But I Hate You.”

I would have liked to listen to her, to hear her stories of Christians who had hurt her, and maybe cry with her and tell her that I am so, so sorry that anyone, but especially those who claim the label of Christian, treated her that way.

And after I listened, I would have liked to apologize, for the ways and the days that I still proclaim Jesus as my Savior but act very little like him.

 5 Reasons Being Single Rocks

1)      You get to go where you want, when you want, with who you want.

No arguments because one of you wants to go out for pizza and the other wants Chinese, no phone calls checking in to see if your significant other is okay with you hanging out with a friend after work, no trying to make excuses for not wanting to hang out with your significant other’s friends that you find irritating for no explainable reason. You go where you want, my single friend. When you want, with who you want.

5 Reasons Being Single Sucks

5) The not knowing if being single is a season, or forever.

I’ve said that if I could know for sure that I will get married at some point in the future, I could handle it a lot better. But there are no guarantees. For me, this is one of the hardest parts of being single. Statistcally speaking, most people do get married at some point in their lifetime–but not all. I’ve never been one to handle uncertainty well, and not knowing if I’ll ever get married is one of the scariest uncertainties of all.

The Beauty of Church

But some really, awesome, beautiful things can happen when you hang out with his people. I’m not saying they happy every day, every month, or even every year—but they do happen. And in those moments you see and feel the way that God is moving in Church and in those broken, messy people, and you count it all grace and mercy and love and you wonder how a feeling like that can possibly stay contained in your human body, because it just feels so out of this world because itis.

A Valentine’s Day Plea

And I ask of you, the world at large, please don’t tell me how to feel.

Not just me, but everyone around you.

Please don’t tell them to turn their frown upside down.

Please don’t negate their feelings of sadness or loneliness.

Please don’t remind them of things they have heard over and and over again with sayings that minimize honest feelings.

Would Jesus Tweet About Gay Marriage?

The next time something controversial is happening in the world, I would love to see an empty news feed. Not because people don’t care about what’s going on in the world, but because they’re out listening, engaging in face-to-face conversations, which will always tell us more than words on a screen. All the CAPITAL LETTERS, bold font, and italics in the world can’t convey as much as facial expressions and tone of voice.

How To Be Alone

The truth is, most people are too busy with their own lives to notice someone sitting at a table without anyone else. I may have been the only person in the restaurant that night, besides the server, who even noticed the woman and thought anything of her.

There is nothing wrong with being alone. Instead, there is a type of goodness I have yet to fully understand, the type that is attentive to the food, the drink, and perhaps the words, and nothing else.


I haven’t decided yet if I’ll write more about 2013, all the changes and goodness and messes and people and places that have colored the past year. It seems a difficult year to encapsulate in a few words, so perhaps these highlights will suffice.

Til next time…


p.s. What has been your favorite blog post (here or elsewhere) of 2013?

Why I Keep Writing About Church

I write about Church a fair amount. It’s a touchy topic, one laden with emotion for many people. Church can be complicated and messy, and it can bring up bad memories or reopen wounds we thought had healed.

But I keep writing about Church because I keep seeing the good side of it, and in all the Church bashing that takes place, I sometimes think Church could use some cheerleaders. I haven’t always been in a place to be that person, and I know that I won’t always be. For now though, I able to champion Church, to remind us of the good of Church in spite of the bad.

Photo Credit: Flickr User  Arian Zwegers, Creative Commons

Photo Credit: Flickr User Arian Zwegers, Creative Commons

For much of my childhood and teenage years, going to church was something my family simply did. There were times when I enjoyed it well enough, though I don’t remember actively looking forward to going to church very often. The first two years of college, I bounced around churches a bit until deciding to stick with one for a few months. Finally, as I drove away in tears yet again because no one seemed to have the time to say hello to the college girl attending by herself, I figured God didn’t want that for me either.

Then, through a situation I can only describe as a “God thing,” I found out about a new church. I showed up once, and have kept showing up ever since. Almost every week I drive away from my church wishing I could hug it, feeling incredibly grateful that God has blessed me with this community for this season of life. It is nothing but a gift to be able to show up to the same place each week, to look forward to hearing sermons, singing songs, greeting friends and making making new ones, to seeing all the ways that God is using the church and the people in it to bring little pieces of his kingdom here. It is not we that are doing good things though, it is He. Anything good that comes from our church is simply an expression of God’s grace, and we are merely players in it.

I can’t tell you what the future holds for me, my church, or my involvement there, but right now, I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain that God has me somewhere for a reason.

I also fully realize good church experiences are not the case for everyone. I don’t want to deny or excuse the dark side of Church—the abuse, the exclusion, the hypocrisy, the judgment, the hurt—but I also don’t want to ignore the good side of Church because of those things.

So I will keep writing about Church, because maybe it can breathe hope to someone who has never felt this way about Church, thinks they will never feel this way about Church, doesn’t even believe it’s possible to feel this way about Church. I wish everyone could walk or drive or skip away from church wanting to hug it, because I think that’s how Church in its perfected state is supposed to be. It won’t always be that way, because sometimes Church is just really hard.

But it can be so, so good too.

Til next time…


p.s. What are some of your good church experiences?

The Beauty of Church

Three years ago, I walked into a church that met in a school. I heard about it in an odd manner, as the pastor had stopped into the ice cream store/coffee shop where I worked at the time, looking for my boss. He asked me a little about myself, and we chatted for a few minutes before he left his business card for me to give to my boss. The church’s website was listed on his card, so when I got home, I looked it up. A few weeks later, on the last Sunday of August, I attended for the first time.

Today, on the last Sunday of August three years later, that same church I now call “mine” celebrated a huge, momentous occasion. We had our first service in our very own building, only three years after we officially started meeting every week.

There’s an element to this that is crazy. The age of our church itself is young–only three years old–and demographically speaking, we are a very young church. We’ve seen the studies that say that Millennials are leaving Church as fast as they can run, and probably everyone who attends my church has seen that firsthand in their family and friends.

But we’ve also seen our Sunday morning services that, at times, nearly overflow with college students. The people that everybody says are leaving the church are coming to ours, but I don’t think it’s because we’re really awesome—it’s not our doing, but God’s. And we are blessed to be a part of it. I am blessed to be a part of it.

Both of our pastors and many in our congregation are Millennials—from those who never left Church, to those who left Church for a while but not God and decided to give Church another go with us, to those who never tried Church but are trying it with us—and a myriad of others in all sorts of life stages. We’re together, growing and struggling and discovering what it looks like to follow God well, no matter where we are.

And this thing that we’re doing, of buying a building and signing a mortgage and settling into a neighborhood, is risky and a little scary and a lot of exciting.

I’m not telling you it’s always easy. The nitty-gritty of running a church or getting a new building isn’t easy, and the personal work of going to church, getting to know people at church, of being church, is not easy either.

If anyone tells you that they always want to go to church, that it’s always easy for them to get involved and to feel like they belong, that church always feels happy and joyful—they’re probably lying.

Church isn’t easy.

Sometimes it’s really hard. Sometimes the sermons don’t seem to apply to you for weeks at a time. Sometimes you really can’t stand that one song they keep singing. Sometimes you want to sleep in on Sunday morning or skip that meeting on Wednesday. Sometimes your feelings get hurt and you feel a little lonely and left out. Sometimes you feel like it’s all a little pointless and can’t you still love God even if you don’t love hanging out with his people?

Yes, you can love God even if you don’t love hanging out with his people.

But some really, awesome, beautiful things can happen when you hang out with his people. I’m not saying they happy every day, every month, or even every year—but they do happen. And in those moments you see and feel the way that God is moving in Church and in those broken, messy people, and you count it all grace and mercy and love and you wonder how a feeling like that can possibly stay contained in your human body, because it just feels so out of this world because it is.

And that is Church. That is why my church has taken a bold, risky move by buying a building—because we believe in Church, of the power of God in and through his people to impact the lives of others, and perhaps, a neighborhood and even a city. We do what we do because our God is big and he moves in bold, risky, exciting ways. Because this is the beauty of Church.

Til next time…


p.s. How have you experienced the beauty of Church?

Dear Me: Go To Church

The topic of church has come up a lot lately: in my own blog posts, in other articles I’ve been reading, in a class I’m the teaching assistant for, in conversations, and more. I intended to write about why I think church is so important, until I found something in an old notebook. This is a snippet of an un-eloquent, rambling prayer I wrote my freshman year of college.

Photo Credit: Flickr User Vik Nanda, Creative Commons

Photo Credit: Flickr User Vik Nanda, Creative Commons

It’s hard for me to go to church, honestly. Lately I’ve just really been wondering what good it is. Like [we talked about in some of my classes], why have so many Sundays of preaching produced so few spiritually mature Christians? I feel like I’m getting more out of writing all this than I may have gotten out of a sermon. I don’t know that for sure, of course, but I feel more like I’m talking to you. Maybe church is the right thing, and I’m sorry for not doing the right thing.

There’s a few things younger me should hear about church.


Dear College Freshman Brianna,

You’re right. Going to church is really, really hard sometimes. You’re busy, and honestly, there may be occasional Sundays when sleeping in is more beneficial to your overall well-being than going to church (but not nearly as many as you might think right now.)

Having the advantage of a few years, you should know this about your church-going experience: It will get worse before it gets better. I wish I could say otherwise, but it’s true.

Yet, even in the “worse” time, you should still go. Even though you will walk into church nervous and scared, coming in through the back entrance because the main one is far too intimidating, you will hear good messages. The style of worship will be different than you grew up with, and it will expand your understanding of the world and Christianity and God. You will attend a really awkward “young people” lunch, feel ignored and overlooked, and wonder why on earth you bother with church.

I’ve yet to find a direct command in the Bible saying, “Thou shalt go to church.” It’s not one of the Ten Commandments, and Jesus doesn’t specifically talk about “church” in the way we know it now.

But, younger me, there’s this: Jesus spent a lot of time with people, which is a large part of what church is about. It’s absolutely important to worship God, and you will do that in church (and elsewhere), but you will meet and experience the body of believers in church as well. Growing up, you’ve seen some of the bad parts of church, as well as some of the beautiful parts, and you will see those in the next few years too, but in new ways. The brokenness, the humanness, the imperfectness of the body; and the beautiful, the divine, the glory in the body.

You wrote, “Maybe church is the right thing, and I’m sorry for not doing the right thing.” I’m not sure God wants us to feel guilty for not going to church, but I think church is his design for how he wants believers to learn and grow together and from each other. Part of going to church isn’t about seeing what you can get from it (though it is important to listen to the sermons), but seeing what you can give to it.

Yup. You.

Even though you feel too young and uneducated and inadequate, you have gifts. Discover them. Use them to serve your fellow church-goers. Just like you have tons of things to learn from them, they can probably learn a few things from you as well.

So get out of bed. Go to church.

And hang in there. There is beauty in the broken, even when the broken is the body of believers.

Til next time…


p.s. What would you say to younger you about church?

Church Isn’t Easy

On Sunday I wrote a note on the wrong bulletin. (If you haven’t read about it, you can do so here).

It turned out to be something I, and a girl whose name I do not know, needed to hear.

The second version, the one that ended up on my own bulletin, was this:

Don’t let anyone tell you that going to and participating in church will always be easy. Few things that are truly worth having are easy.

Because this past Sunday I was overwhelmed by how much my soul needs church, which I’ve written about before. I hadn’t even realized my soul was tired until I found myself near tears during each song we sung. This is exactly why I need to come to church, I thought.

Photo Credit: Flickr User foto4lizzie, Creative Commons

Photo Credit: Flickr User foto4lizzie, Creative Commons

The church I attend now has become exactly what I need in many ways, but it hasn’t been easy. For almost the first full year, and definitely the first few months, I felt awkward. I sat by myself most Sundays, something I was uncomfortable with, and didn’t know what to do with myself if I arrived too soon or if the greeting time stretched on too long.

Over time it changed as I began to meet more people, but there are still moments when I feel awkward. It’s not the church’s fault, but my own insecurity getting in the way of the larger purpose of the Church. Church with a capital C, as a community of believers who join together to worship and learn what it means to seek to live more like Jesus.

The reality is, Church will not always be easy. Perhaps especially if you attend by yourself, as I do, but for anyone—going to church can be hard. There have been times when I have driven away from a church with tears in my eyes, and not because the service was particularly moving (though that has happened too).

Taking the step of going to church, and the next step of getting involved with one, is really, really hard sometimes.

Church can be lonely. Church can be hurtful. Church can feel pointless. It is one of the main reasons people dislike the Church. I’ve been hurt by it and you’ve likely been hurt by it, and I am so, so sorry this is true. It really shouldn’t be this way.

The reality is that churches are comprised of people, and where there are people, there is brokenness and there is messiness. Some churches have more of it than others, but you will never find a completely perfect church on this earth. It does not exist.

Yet there is still so much good there. Despite the brokenness, despite the hurt, despite feeling that it may be pointless, Church can be a place of community, rest for the soul, learning, and so much more.

Things that are worth it are rarely easy, but they can be so, so good.

(More on that soon)

Til next time…



p.s. Has going to church ever been hard for you? Why or why not?

A Divine Mistake

I chose my seat in church this morning without much thought—I saw a girl I knew, so I sat next to her. As we waited for the service to begin, I wrote my name and a prayer request on the tear-off section of the bulletin, then set it down when we stood up to sing.

The songs this morning were ones I needed to hear, with words like, “It is well with my soul,” and I got to thinking about the beauty of the moment, how much I need church, how my soul felt at rest. I reached behind me and sloppily jotted down a thought on my bulletin.

Except it wasn’t mine.

A few minutes later we sat down for the message to begin. I had the bulletin with my name and prayer request on the tear-off section, but not my note. Slowly it dawned on me that I had written a note on someone else’s bulletin. The person behind me must have set it on the chair next to mine, and in my haste to get the thought out I had written on the wrong one.

Woops, I thought. Too late to do anything about it now. I wrote down what I could remember of my original note, and thought maybe after the service I’d apologize to the person whose bulletin I had written on—I felt kind of bad about it.

Except immediately after the service I got caught up in a conversation, then spotted a friend I hadn’t seen in a while who was visiting my church, and forgot about looking for the person who had ended up with my note to apologize.

Until a girl stopped me as I exited my row. I had greeted a group of college girls who were sitting behind me, but hadn’t even asked their names.

“Did you write a note on a bulletin?” she asked me.

“Yea…” was about all I got out.

“Because the girl who got it really needed to hear that.” I tried to explain I had felt bad about writing on someone else’s bulletin, but she shrugged it off. “She’s been dealing with some stuff, and she really needed it. It was a God thing,” she said, or something to that effect.

I didn’t know what to say. I think I stammered out an, “I’m so glad,” and thanked her for telling me before she went to find the group of people she had ridden with.

A God thing.” I don’t think I’ve ever knowningly been a part of a “God thing” before.

And here, in my picking up the wrong bulletin, I was.

I’m not telling this story to brag; there is very little of this that has to do with me. I didn’t even get the name of the girl who spoke to me after the service, and I don’t know which of the girls I greeted ended up with my note.

But God does. This was all him, not me.

He knew what this girl needed to hear, and it was something I needed too—I wouldn’t have written it down otherwise.

I don’t know why this girl needed that note, and I’ll likely never find out.


But I am so very glad God knows what we need to hear.

I’m glad God uses little things.

I’m glad God uses divinely orchestrated mistakes.

Like writing on the wrong bulletin.


Til next time…


p.s. Has there ever been a time God used something small, mistake or otherwise, in your life? Also, later this week there will be a follow-up post about what I, and the girl who ended up with my note, needed to hear.

Thankfulness, Little Things, And Bonhoeffer

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a really smart guy. He wrote about a lot of topics pertaining to the Christian life, including thankfulness, which is the “in” thing this time of year. Here are some of his words, taken from a 40 Day Devotional I’m receiving via email. (Check it out here. Emphasis mine)

Thankfulness works in the Christian community as it usually does in the Christian life. Only those who give thanks for the little things receive the great things as well. We prevent God from giving us the great spiritual gifts prepared for us because we do not give thanks for daily gifts. We think that we should not be satisfied with the small measure of spiritual knowledge, experience, and love that has been given to us, and that we must constantly be seeking the great gifts. Then we complain that we lack the deep certainty, the strong faith, and the rich experiences that God has given to other Christians, and we consider these complaints to be pious. We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the small (and yet really not so small!) gifts we receive daily. How can God entrust great things to those who will not gratefully receive the little things from God’s hand?

As people answer the question “What are you thankful for?” there are some answers that come up repeatedly. Tangible things, like family, friends, job, house, car. Intangibles, like grace, salvation, love. While important and true, these answers only skim the surface. As Bonhoeffer suggests, we forget to give thanks for the small.

A comprehensive list of things I’m thankful for would include all of the ones listed above: family, friends, job, house, car, grace, salvation, love. But it would include so many more.

  • Church. I am so incredibly blessed to be a part of a church that has shown me glimpses of what true church should be.
  • Laptop. For about a month and a half this year, I didn’t have one, and it gave me a renewed appreciation for having one. Considering how much I like to write, having  laptop is important for me, and I’m so thankful to have one to type these words on.
  • Travel. In May I got to go on a trip to London, Oxford, and Edinburgh, and it was amazing. It was by far the biggest adventure I’ve gone on so far, and not only did I have a lot of fun, I learned a lot about myself.
  • Education. Had I not gone to college, and specifically Kuyper College, I’d be a very different person in a very different place in life. I’m so thankful for the head, heart, and hands knowledge I gained in my time there.
  • Facebook. It sounds silly, but it allows me to keep in touch with a of friends I wouldn’t communicate with otherwise, either due to distance or other reasons, and I really appreciate it as a communication tool. One of my jobs is also in social media, so I appreciate it on a work level as well.
  • Words. I’m so thankful God gave words as a way of expressing ourselves. I don’t know what I’d do without them–both the ones I write myself, and the good, truthful ones I read of others.

Some of those aren’t quite-so-little, so on a smaller scale, I’m also thankful for:

  • Colors.
  • Blankets.
  • Coffee.
  • Indoor plumbing.
  • Pens.
  • My goldfish.
  • Ice cream.
  • You, for taking the time to read this.

What are some of the little (or big) things you’re thankful for that you might sometimes forget to thank God for?

Til next time…


“Single,” Not “Incomplete”

At work yesterday, I ended up on a bunch of different church websites. Many had Meet the Staff pages, some with interview-style questions and fun facts.

On one church’s site,  ”How I met my spouse” was the second question on each staff bio. Not a bad question.

One of the staff had listed, “When I find her, I’ll let ya know  .” A clever answer to what could be an awkward, painful question.

I don’t know any of these people, and I’ll likely never meet them. Maybe this guy is 100% content in his singleness, every single day, and was looking for a chance to use his clever answer.

Perhaps I’m reading too much into the placement, and am a little oversensitive about this because I went to a wedding recently, and wrote of how doing so brings up a lot of emotions.

But the “How I met my spouse” question being listed second seems to suggest something about how the church views marriage, and in turn, their single staff member. “How I met my spouse” appears above “Spiritual Gifts” or “How you got into ministry” or “Favorite Bible passage.”

But I think it points to a larger problem within Christian thought: Why is there often a subtle implication that we are incomplete until we can answer the question, “How did you meet your spouse?”

There are days I feel incomplete due to my singleness, but that does not make it true. Using the Bible as a guide, I find nothing that implies that I am somehow less, or my life has not yet begun because I am not married.

Paul writes of marriage and singleness in I Corinthians 7, ending the chapter with, “But if her husband dies, she is free to marry anyone she wishes, but he must belong to the Lord. In my judgment, she is happier if she stays as she is—and I think that I too have the Spirit of God.”

He seems to be saying here that though the Spirit of God can be found in marriage, it can also be found in singleness. There is nothing in the chapter, or in the way that Paul lived his life, to imply he was somehow incomplete and less effective as a servant of God because he was not married. Paul also does not condemn the idea of marriage, nor do I intend to–if I could plan my life, I’d be married right now, or at least in a relationship that was strongly headed that way. In any of the versions of my life I have imagined, none of them have included being single for the rest of my life.

But just because I am not married yet does mean I am incomplete.

The church whose staff pages I mentioned is probably a wonderful church. When they created those pages on the website, they probably didn’t give much thought to the arrangement of the questions…which is kind of the problem. Having “How I met my spouse” as the second question, when one of the people does not have an answer to that question, seems to imply he is missing an element that is crucial to complete his profile. Even unconsciously, Christian circles often subtly imply that singleness implies incompleteness. I strongly disagree.

I’m not anti-marriage. From what I’ve seen, heard, read, and more, marriage is an incredible gift that will, I hope, someday teach me more about love, sacrifice, struggle, relationships, and God than I thought possible. In some ways, I imagine it may complete a part of me I didn’t know was possible–but I don’t think that means that right now, a piece of me is missing.

Maybe marriage brings about another level of completeness; a different kind of completeness for those who are supposed to get married, but not completeness in a sense that something is missing for those who are not. As Paul says, “I think that I too have the Spirit of God.”

I am single, not incomplete.

Til next time…


p.s. What do you think? If you’re single, do you ever feel that it’s implied you’re “incomplete”? If you’re married, am I completely missing something here?

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In elementary school I remember using the idea of an “input/output” machine in math. Our workbooks had pictures like the following:

As we learned basic math, we filled in the missing numbers. The input number would be provided, as well as how “the machine” changed the number, and we had to figure out the output number. It made sense to me, and though I don’t like math much anymore, at the time it seemed fun.


Currently, I’m involved in 3 Bible studies–2 that meet weekly, and 1 that meets every other week.

Admittedly, it’s a bit much, but they happened to all be on topics or books I found interesting, and I didn’t want to miss out on any of them. It doesn’t hurt that many of the friends I might normally hang out with while I’m living with my parents aren’t around right now, so Bible studies seemed like a good option for filling my time.

They’ve become much more than a way to fill my time though. These Bible studies become a perfect example of how the input/output machine isn’t just for elementary school math; it’s for life.


This past summer I had a lot of free time, and I didn’t use it well at all. The quality “input” into my life was severely lacking. Even looking back at my blog posts from the summer months, I can see the truth in this. Most of them had a more negative tone and far fewer mentions of God and my faith.

Attending 3 Bible studies has drastically changed my “input” this fall. I read the chapters for each one, look up Bible verses, and have lively, thought-provoking discussions on a variety of topics; but they spend much more time in my head than the time it takes to simply perform those tasks. Which is the way it’s supposed to be.

Is my “output,” in terms of the way I live my life, changing drastically because of this? I don’t know. But I can tell the difference in where my mind wanders, and most definitely in the posts I write. It’s much harder to ignore God when I’m reading, thinking, and talking about him on a regular basis. The input has gotten better, both in terms of quality and quantity, and the output has as well.

Participating in 3 Bible studies is a bit extreme–I probably won’t do it again. But at this point in my life, there are a lot worse things I could be doing with my time.


Til next time…