And in college, I discovered theology for the first time (read more about that here!). Thus, two of my life’s great passions converged: the study of God and books.

What we consume has the power to alter us deeply. That is why Jesus, when he is being tested in the wilderness, resists temptation by quoting the psalmist: “Man shall not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Later in his ministry, he calls himself the Bread of Life. For he knows that in order for us to be transformed, we must consume the Word.

So it is not surprising, then, that in my study of this Word, there have been a few books that have radically shaped me.

A lot of these were read during very spiritually formative years of my life, in that 18-24 range, but others were more recent, and many of them have been revisited more than once. Of course, a lot of my theology has evolved since I was 18 (thankfully!), so this list is not representative of what I have always believed, or what I believe now, or what I will believe in 10, 20, or 30 years. Still, these books have offered me a foundation built on the goodness of God and his unwavering love for his people through his Son, Jesus Christ.

Not all of these books are strictly “theology” books. Some of them are more academic, some are more narrative or biographical, but if you’re looking to start on your journey of studying God more deeply, this list is where I would start.

1. Shadow of the Almighty by Elisabeth Elliot

This book radicalized me so much that I eventually just stole my mom’s copy, which sits on my shelf, highlighted, underlined, and dog-eared to death. I was deeply influenced by the life of missionary Jim Elliot. Having no older Christian relatives, I adopted Jim as a spiritual ancestor in my mind. I can only pray that my life would be marked by the same kind of unimpeded devotion to Christ, no matter my circumstances.

2. Church History in Plain Language by Bruce Shelley

This book is exactly what you think it is. A comprehensive history of the Church since the Resurrection, written in easy-to-understand, concise language. This book caused me to realize that my life — my “testimony,” if you will — is not an isolated story. I belong to a long legacy of Christians who have fought and died for the gospel. Because of their unwavering faith in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, I get to know Him and walk with Him today.

3. Delighting in the Trinity by Michael Reeves

This book is simply, well, delightful. The book is a physical representation of the idea that walking with God is not a burden but a joy. Indeed, “we love because he first loved us.”2

4. The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan

A classic allegory about a man who is transformed by the gospel and embarks on a journey toward the Celestial City. Along the way, he meets many friends and foes and is changed by it all. Many, many simple but beautiful reminders in this one.

5. The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard

What does it actually mean to be a disciple, or an apprentice, of Jesus? Did Jesus really mean what he said in the Sermon on the Mount? Willard is truly one of the greats. This book found me at a time when I was wrestling with what the daily spiritual life of a mature believer should look like. If it’s not youth group summer camps and Christian hype conferences, then what does faithfulness to Jesus actually mean? Willard constructs a compelling answer in the person of Christ.

6. The Man Christ Jesus by Bruce Ware

Ware has some not awesome takes about women and the eternal subordination of the Son, but in this house we do not ascribe to throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I read this book during a long airport wait at JKF in New York, and it completely changed my view of Jesus, both as God and as man.

7. Salvation by Allegiance Alone by Matthew Bates

Both my husband and I have benefited greatly from Dr. Bates’s work on faith as allegiance, and it has become common language in our home. Bates dives into what the abstract word “faith” actually means in the Greek and how it relates to the expression of our life with Jesus. Spoiler: faith is allegiance, and allegiance is more than ambiguous belief.

8. Every Woman a Theologian by Phylicia Masonheimer

Phylicia Masonheimer is probably in my Top 3 on the list of People I’ve Never Met Who Have Influenced Me Most. EWAT is a systematic theology aimed at women who want to study God more deeply and understand what they believe more comprehensively. This is a wonderful theology starting point!

9. Practicing the Way by John Mark Comer

You will never, ever hear any JMC slander from me, thank you very much. I love Comer’s work and so appreciate his attempt to give evangelicals something deeper through the spiritual formation practices. Practicing the Way made me love Jesus more and want to follow Him more closely.

10. Nobody’s Mother by Sandra Glahn

I read this one last year, and I think it is an incredible work. Glahn examines Paul’s teaching in 1 Timothy 2:15 that women will be saved through childbearing3. The academic, historic, contextual work in the book is fantastic and compelling. I think it honors scripture, women, and the heart of Christ.

This list could be very long. But these are the books that I especially want to hug, that when I hear their titles, I sigh and feel sentimental. I love these books. I love what these books have taught me. And most of all, I love how God used these books to reveal more of Himself to me.

I feel so grateful to live in a world with so much access to books and academia and biblical research. If you’re wanting to start somewhere in your study of God, start with scripture, of course, but then also start here. He will always be faithful to show you more of Himself.

Thanks for reading! I’m Amber, the creator of the Well-Worn Path, a reader-supported publication about Christian spiritual formation, theology, literature, and motherhood. I hope that by sharing my own experiences, Christian moms will be emboldened to walk out what they believe in every facet of their lives.

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They have spent decades wandering the wilderness, waiting for the Promised Land, and finally, they have arrived. They stand on the cusp of a new day for God’s people. They are eager for this land of blessing, but God wants to remind them that it is also a land of temptation.

So Moses goes back to the beginning. He knows he will not be going with them, and he needs them to know that the deal they have struck with God will not work unless they worship only Him, if they know that their flourishing is intricately tied to their obedience.

In chapter 7, while recounting the Hebrew Exodus from Pharaoh’s army, Moses says, “but He has brought us from there.” And while he is speaking specifically to the Israelites, it makes me wonder if this little phrase couldn’t summarize the entire redemptive story of Scripture.

We may not have stood on the banks of the Red Sea as the sound of the chariots grew louder behind us, but weren’t we also once in need of rescue? And in His faithfulness, didn’t God bring us out, too?

Like lost sheep on a hillside, we were once far from God, in a dark and lonely place, wondering how we could ever make it back home. Yet “He has brought us from there.”

We once only knew death and selfishness, “but He has brought us from there.”

We once could not recognize light and goodness and beauty, “but He has brought us from there.”

And where has He brought us to? To the spiritual, unending Promised Land, to the glory and intimacy of His very presence, where there is no darkness at all, but only the abundance of life and light and joy and freedom. In our submission to Him, we become fully alive, fully human, fully who we were always meant to be.

There is no other way but this one.

In Deuteronomy, Moses warns Israel urgently not to follow the gods of the age, to not give them even a mite of access into their hearts and minds, for if they do, they will violate their covenant with God and it will destroy them.

The gods of the age have not changed. They are still offering us money, power, and sex. But that is all they can offer. They can never offer goodness or truth or beauty. They can never make you new. They can never heal was has been broken. They can never be the dearest, truest, most loving friend you have ever had. All they can offer is evil shrouded in false promises.

May the care of the world — what we will eat, or wear, or drive, or where we will send our kids to school, or how we will afford a home — never cause us to lose sight of this: that I once was lost, but now I am found. For “He has brought us from there” into the land of Life.

All praise to this High King of Heaven. May He reign in your hearts.

I only have one sibling, a brother, and I’m the oldest girl by several years on both sides of my family. I didn’t have to do much sharing growing up, and it wasn’t until college that I had to share much of anything.

When I got pregnant, I immediately began to feel protective of my baby — which is a perfectly normal biological impulse — but as time went on and pregnancy got more difficult, I began to resent any time anyone expressed a desire to hold or spend time with my baby. The underlying current of my heart was, “He’s mine.”

After he was born, this feeling intensified. Again, to be clear, this is a normal biological impulse. Mothers were designed to be with their babies. It is a deep injustice to unwillingly separate a mother from her baby (which is why there should be outrage over the lack of a federal maternity leave in the United States). But even a biological norm can go too far when it is coupled with sin.

It is hard to strike a balance with what I’m going to call “possessiveness” over your baby because every situation is so different. Mothers must use discernment and intuition to decide who has access to their baby and in what manner. My baby was born into two loving, Christ-following, spiritually mature, respectful families. The decisions I made over sharing my baby were different than they would have been if that were not the case.

That being said, there was still much I wasn’t comfortable with until he was older. For the most part, when I needed help with childcare in any capacity, I had family come to our house instead of taking him somewhere else. Only in a few rare cases has he ridden in someone else’s car without us. I always baby-wore in church to avoid the many curious hands, and he stayed with us in service until he was nearly a year old. We do not post his face online, and I have begun to feel conflicted about posting any photo that includes him at all.

I’m sure that as we have more children and grow in our confidence as parents these decisions will evolve, and many older folks would probably label us as overprotective helicopter parents. But the world has changed, and sin towards children specifically runs rampant and unchecked in our society. There are many things I am lax about — I am a huge proponent of safe but risky play now that he is a toddler — but when it comes to the physical and emotional well-being of my baby, I don’t take things lightly. No one is going to defend your children but you.

I believe protectiveness is a good and normal design. The problem is when it becomes possessiveness. Protectiveness looks at the threats of the outside world and attempts to shield your baby from them for their own good. Possessiveness, however, looks at even the good intentions of loving family and friends and attempts to shield your baby from them for your own benefit. Protectiveness is for your baby. Possessiveness is for you.

I don’t want anyone to misunderstand me: no one else has a right to your baby but you. A newborn baby cannot bond with anyone but its parents, and honestly, it can’t even really bond with its father for quite a while. No one else needs to feed your baby, hold your baby, rock your baby, soothe your baby overnight, or wear your baby, unless you absolutely want them to. You should never be coerced into giving your baby to someone you do not feel comfortable with. You can and should say, “No,” even if it feels rude.

But if you begin to withhold your baby from others who you know are trustworthy just because you think that baby is yours, then we are beginning to tiptoe into dangerous territory.

I know there is a difference between protectiveness and possessiveness because the Holy Spirit always checks me when I am being possessive. Possessiveness is a selfishness issue, yes, but it is also a pride issue. When I am being possessive, it is often because I want the glory. I want to be the one to say I did it all by myself without any one’s help, that I am the most competent mother who has ever lived, capable of mothering without any other strength but my own.

Possessiveness is a liar. First, it whispers, “This baby is mine.” And second, “I can do it by myself.”

The second lie becomes apparent nearly immediately. My son was born via C-section, and I couldn’t even feed him for the first few hours after his birth without assistance because I couldn’t move the lower half of my body. I needed help right away. The idea that I can be a mother in isolation is foolish, though it must be slayed daily.

The first lie is sneaky, though, because it seems so obviously true. My body grew this baby. The hospital sent this baby home with me. His birth certificate says this baby belongs to me. He shares my DNA. He lives in my home. He is fully my own responsibility. Surely that means that he is mine?

But he is not mine, at least not for long. He is a gift entrusted to me by the Lord. He shares my genes, true, but he will not share my home forever. He is his own, and my job is to teach him that though he will not always belong to me, his entire being belongs to God. I pray that he will surrender fully to Jesus, the ultimate Protector, when the day comes.

It does get easier, though it is sometimes still hard to share him. What helps is seeing the utter joy he brings to those around him. How could I withhold that from others? Or from him? It is a kindness to him to give him a vast community of friends, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who can teach him and love him in many different ways.

No mother is an island. My baby is not my own.

June was truly a needed reset for my brain. It was a calm month at work for me, and our personal life was blissfully quiet. The weather was gorgeous, so we got lots of fun time outside!

• Completed: Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Real Food for Fertility by Lily Nichols

• Currently Reading: Galahad and the Grail by Malcolm Guite and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

I am trucking my way through Anna Karenina, and I’m determined to finish it in July so I don’t have to lug it around on our family vacation in August. I read War and Peace a few years ago, and so far am enjoying Anna Karenina far more! I finished Far from the Madding Crowd at the end of May, and I absolutely adored it. I’m looking forward to reading more Hardy later this year!

• I’m listening to the audiobook of Galahad and the Grail, read by the author, Malcolm Guite — a true delight! I first heard about Mr. Guite a few years ago when he was on Sally Clarkson’s podcast. Galahad is a retelling of the Arthurian legends in poetry. If it seems like everyone is talking about it, it’s for a good reason!

• The Rest is History Podcast — I come back to this podcast every once in a while. I recently finished their series on Mary Queen of Scots, and I’m following along with their current series on the Founding Fathers for the Fourth of July. I always enjoy Dominic and Tom’s very British chuckles.

• Sickness will absolutely destroy a good routine — Last week, my toddler and I both caught a very odd virus. Suddenly, nothing was working in my home anymore, including me. Am I an irresponsible mom? I wondered. I thought things had been going so well, but suddenly my son needed me every second of the day. Turns out, he just didn’t feel good. This week, we’re back to full health and independent play once more. Turns out, it had nothing to do with me — imagine that!

• Implementing quiet time — I first heard about quiet time from Olivia Wilcox at the Not So Angry Mom. She swears by it, so I decided to try it out with my almost-two-year-old. Every morning around 10, I put him in his crib with a few stuffed animals, books, and quiet toys (think puzzles and sticker books), close the door and set a timer for 20 minutes. He has done surprisingly well these first two weeks! This time gives me an opportunity to reset the house, get some work tasks done, or get ready for the day. It’s been such a calming few minutes and helps break up the morning.

I’m proud to say that did in fact finish Hebrews 6 in June, and it may have been one of my favorites chapters yet! Lots of very long run-on sentences, but we powered through. On the docket for July is chapter 7!

• Summer Fridays — A few months ago, I decided that I would take off every Friday in June, and I am so thankful that I did. It really helped slow down the pace of what I think is one of the best months of the year and gave us time to enjoy some slow summer days.

• My toddler’s first haircut — My toddler’s hair was starting to get out of control, but we are not fans of spending money on unnecessary things. So we winged it and did it ourselves! Was it chaotic? Absolutely. Does it look a bit like a weird bowl cut? Yes. Is it the cutest thing ever and a new core memory for my husband and I? 10000%. Long live home haircuts.

• Laying out in the kiddie pool — A few weeks ago, a dear friend of mine delivered a plastic kiddie pool to my house since it wouldn’t fit in my car. It has single-handedly been the best purchase of the summer. Not only does my son love it, but on my days off I’ve been laying out in the sun during nap time with my feet in the water, trying to get a hint of a tan. So far, no tan, but the vibes have been incredibly high.

• New overalls — All I’ve worn this past week are my new barrel-leg overalls. So comfy! So easy! So cute!

• 77 hours outside — lower than May, but we had lots of rain for a week that hurt our numbers a bit. Still lots of great time!

• A successful graduation party to celebrate my husband finishing his bachelor’s degree! I simply could not be more proud of him.

• A cute summer fruit themed birthday gift for my cute sister-in-law!

• An amazing deal on a hiking carrier for our toddler for our trip out West in August.

• Lots of family outings together, something I am still consistently surprised that we get to do since my husband finished his degree.

My son will turn two at the end of the summer, a fact my poor little brain cannot comprehend.

I often have phantom baby kicks and forget that I’m not currently pregnant. I hear phantom cries all the time still. I forget that he can talk and am shocked when he replies to my rambling questions throughout the day.

In my mind, he is still a baby. In his mind, he has the capacity of a seven-year-old.

I do not know how this little person, a stranger to me only two years ago, has moved into my life, my house, my soul and altered it so completely, but it’s been two years and it’s worth reflecting on.

So I’m launching a series, which may not be for everyone but that I’m excited about, called Postpartum Reflections. I didn’t write much during my postpartum experience, so I’m looking forward to dwelling here a bit and sharing my perspective of that time now with some space in between.

“Sleep when the baby sleeps.”

I’m sorry, have you ever met a baby? To be honest, I hadn’t really. I had very little experience with babies and kids going into motherhood, something I was very concerned about that ended up being a nonissue. That said, I didn’t know a single thing about baby sleep besides that they’re not very good at it — at least, not at the sleeping at night like everyone else part of it.

One thing I did know was that babies sleep a lot. It seemed like all anyone ever said about newborns was that they were so easy to take with you because they’d just sleep the whole time.

Insert maniacal, sleep-deprived laughter here.

My son was a very awake baby. Shortly after he was born we noticed that he seemed to spend a surprising amount of time awake — more than our friends’ babies seemed to — and the rest of that time he spent screaming.

As it turns out, those two behaviors are deeply connected. He was a very alert baby, which led to lots of stimulation, which led to overstimulation, which sent him flying past tired straight into exhaustion, which led to screaming and lots of trouble falling and staying asleep.

It took a few weeks, but I finally discovered that this pattern is quite common and that following wake windows can be helpful. Now, maybe I have just been brainwashed by Big Sleep Training, but following wake windows helped tremendously. Did I turn into a bit of a crazy person about them? Of course I did, I’m a first time mom. But they also helped him get the sleep he needed during the day with a lot less screaming, which helped balance both our nervous systems.

Speaking of nervous systems — I’ll never stop singing the praises of pediatric chiropractic care. This was a game changer for us, especially with an alert, extra-sensitive-to-stimulation baby.

All that said, no amount of chiro appointments, wake windows, or nursing during the day was going to cause my son to sleep through the night earlier than he did (about 12 months, but still pretty sporadically until 18 months).

From about three months on, he was an excellent napper, but night sleep was always a challenge. I was obsessed with getting him to sleep through the night. I cringe to think about it now, but I’m looking back with the perspective of someone who got eight hours of sleep last night.

If you have never been chronically sleep-deprived, you cannot know what an absolute fever dream it is. All rational thought goes out the window. All you can think about is sleep. Waking up every three to four hours for months on end is physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting.

So while I wish I would have calmed down about it all, I also feel a lot of compassion for past Amber. How could she have known?

I do hope that next time I’m able to remember that the sleep comes back, but the baby doesn’t. If I could wake up at 2 a.m. tonight to rock the 8-month-old version of my son for a few minutes, I wouldn’t hesitate over the lost sleep.

Still, when your daily reality is waking up at 11 p.m., 2 a.m., and 5 a.m. every night to rock said baby, it’s hard to hold on to sentimentality.

“It gets better.”

I think the hardest part about baby sleep is that no one remembers how difficult it can be. The brain struggles to build long-term memories when it’s sleep deprived, which is why it can be hard to remember the nitty gritty details of the newborn days.

Because of that, when you need real, practical help, most people — especially those who don’t have more than three kids — can only offer vague tips or pithy sayings. Which is not their fault; it makes complete sense.

The newborn stage is objectively short, only 12 weeks. If you’ve only done it twice, combining that with the aforementioned lack of long-term memories because of sleep deprivation, then the logical conclusion is that you don’t remember enough to give good advice.

I’m already experiencing being on the other side of that scenario. I recently went to visit a postpartum mom who was desperate to get her baby to sleep. I could tell what she wanted was something I couldn’t give her, so I pulled out the Old Faithful: “It really does get better.” I knew instantly that was the least helpful thing I could have possibly said to her. I was shocked at myself, to be honest, but I didn’t know how else to say, “Maybe your baby isn’t sleeping because she’s a baby.”

When you’re in the depths of despair over sleep deprivation, you cannot see how it could possibly ever end. You begin to resent every person on earth who sleeps all night. It is wildly isolating, even when you know your friends with babies are up too. You constantly wonder if you’re doing something wrong. You get caught in the mommy wars of sleep training vs. co-sleeping, and you wonder how your friends are all making it look so easy.

“It’ll be over before you know it.”

What you don’t realize is that, whether you’re getting enough sleep or not, time is passing, and your baby is learning, no matter how slowly, that nighttime is for sleeping. It doesn’t happen all at once, but every once in a while you get an eight-hour stretch. Then, ten hours. Then, all night. It isn’t linear, but it is progressively getting more consistent.

And then, one night, you put your almost-two-year-old to bed and realize you’re not anxious at all. You’re confident he will sleep all night, and even if he wakes, it will be easy to help him get back down. Your evenings are for reading, writing, yapping with your husband, whatever you want. You cannot fathom how different this is from a few short months ago.

And though it wasn’t easy or quick or painless, you still can’t believe that it’s already passed. The sleepless nights with this particular baby are gone, and you have grown, and you have changed, and you are more capable and confident than you were before.

It’s true what they say: Motherhood is surrender. The ones who do it well are free to enjoy the ride. The ones who demand control end up living in bitterness and resentment.

Surrendering control over my sleep has not been an easy thing. But hard is not the same thing is bad. And because I have known the difficulty of a baby who does not sleep easily, my prayer is that I have simultaneously become not only a better mother, but also a better friend, a better sister, a better wife, and a better follower of Jesus.

That process isn’t linear either. But it is good.

If you ask the average Christian what the Bible is, you will likely hear a variety of responses, ranging from “a love letter” to “a rule book” to “a long book full of weird stories.” If you had asked me prior to college what the Bible is, I probably would have leaned toward it being a rule book.

But during my time in campus ministry as a college student, I learned about the overarching story of scripture from our campus pastor. He would summarize the story of the Bible using small icons that he placed along the top of his sermon slides. Then, as he taught, the corresponding icon would be highlighted depending on where in the story he was teaching from.

This way of teaching the Bible was new to me, and it helped answer a lot of questions about the Bible that I didn’t know I had. I was beginning to see that the Bible wasn’t as disjointed as I had previously thought.

After college, I began listening to the Bible Project Podcast. Their tagline is, “We believe the Bible is a unified story that leads to Jesus.” This, coupled with my college pastor’s timeline icons, revealed even more to me.

Not only was the Bible not disjointed, but it was a story with a main character, a villain, a conflict, and a resolution.

Reading scripture this way — as a unified story — keeps everything in its rightful place. God is the main character; I am not. I am a part of a grand history, the story of the God of the universe seeking to restore his people to himself so that we may know Love and be united with him.

So what are the stages of the narrative? Let’s work through them briefly and identify which books of the Bible belong in each category.

Creation and Fall

In the beginning, God created. This knowledge is foundational for our understanding of God’s character. In community, a loving God creates a good world. He then creates humans in his likeness to rule and reign over this creation with him. Ultimately, these humans fail the test before them through disobedience, but this loving God does not quit or start over. Instead, he launches a plan to seek, redeem, and restore humans and creation from the spiritual and physical imprisonment of sin.

The Patriarchs

The patriarchs are the forefathers of the Jewish faith. This portion of Scripture includes the stories of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. These stories follow the family that God has chosen to bring about redemption, through the Messiah, to the whole world. They are to become a great nation belonging to God.

The Exodus

God’s nation — his people, Israel — has lost its way. After 400 years of enslavement by Egypt, God is coming to rescue his people through one man, Moses, and lead them into the land he has promised for them. Moses becomes the figurehead of the Israelite people. He speaks to Pharaoh, calls down plagues, and leads the Israelites out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and into the wilderness. The Exodus is the single most important event in Israelite history, and through it we see many hints to the coming of the Messiah and the ultimate rescue of all the nations for God.

The Law

This portion of Scripture has the worst reputation. The books of the Law are technically the first five books, known as the Torah, but the bulk of the Law itself is contained in Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. The Law, though considered boring by most, is critical to understanding the set-apart nature of Israel and the significance of Christ’s total fulfillment of the Law, resulting in freedom from dead works and acceptance into God’s family for both Jews and Gentiles (non-Jews).

During this section of the narrative, we also see the continual disobedience of the Israelites and God’s unending patience and forgiveness. Despite their lack of faith, God will lead Israel to the Promised Land, where they will also fail to do what he commands.

Kings

After Israel claims the Promised Land, it isn’t long before they look at the nations surrounding them and realize they’re the only ones who don’t have a king. Of course, this is because God is their king. Still, they demand to have one too, and God reluctantly allows it. So begins the era of the monarchy, documented in 1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings, and 1 and 2 Chronicles.

Unsurprisingly, the kings and the nations cannot stand up to the pressures of the surrounding nations. They give into disobedience and idolatry, and eventually they lose the Promised Land and are exiled to foreign lands.

The Prophets

This can be a tough section of Scripture to orient yourself in as it covers a large portion of Israel’s history. The prophets are categorized into major prophets and minor prophets, not because of their significance, simply by the length of their writings, and they serve to warn and often rebuke Israel for their unfaithfulness to God leading up to and during their exiles. Their content is often quite intense, but they consistently reiterate God’s faithfulness and the coming redemption of his people.

The Gospels

Finally, after thousands of years, the Messiah — God in flesh — has come to heal, redeem, and restore all peoples, not just Israel, to himself. After all this time, God’s great goal of creation is fulfilled. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, humans can be made alive once more to enjoy him and his creation and bring peace and hope to the whole world.

The Early Church

The rest of the New Testament, beginning in Acts, is the story of transformation rushing throughout the world, beginning in Jerusalem and moving steadily throughout all creation. It brings the dead to life, both spiritually and physically, heals the sick, both spiritually and literally, and unites a family of Jews and Gentiles into radical community through the Body of Christ himself.

This is the story we step into when we proclaim allegiance to the risen Messiah. The story of a faithful God to an unfaithful people, who is resolute in his Love, never wavering from his intended goal of complete and utter restoration for the creation he loves.

There is far more to be said about this incredible book — this is merely the simplest of overviews. My prayer is that you would see that Jesus was the plan all along. Ours is the only God who steps into the story to make all things right once more, and he is worth your devoted study for all your life.

This month was the truest of whirlwinds. Mother’s Day alone seems to take up a full week and most of my brain capacity. Add to that several birthdays and celebrations with friends, and I am looking forward to a quieter, most restful June. It’s been lots of fun, but I’m tired.

Say it with me, “Emma M. Lion.” Yes, I jumped on board the Emma Lion train and I’ll never look back. I read all 8 in a week, and they breathed fresh life into my love of literature. After finishing the series, I started making an Emma Lion Reading List and have been tackling that. How fun to live in a world with books!

• Completed: The Martian by Andy Weir, The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, Volumes 1-8 by Beth Brower, A Midsummer’s Night Dream and Macbeth by Shakespeare, Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

• Currently Reading: Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy

I’ve never finished reading a book series and immediately gone back to the beginning before, but this time I had to. I’m not listening to all the Emma Lion books on audio and am catching all kinds of Easter eggs!

• Writing, even if I’m the only one who will ever read it, is a very important practice for me. This summer, I’m challenging myself to write a little bit (on paper) every day!

• Motherhood never stops changing.

• To cook? Not really, but with my husband’s new work schedule, I have started making dinner once a week. I know that is nothing to most people, but I’ve found it a good opportunity to improve and practice my very minimal skills!

I really hit a wall on my Bible memory this month. We had some sleep issues that impacted my ability to get up early, which resulted in me hardly memorizing anything for most of the month. I did end up getting through Hebrews 4 and most of Hebrews 5 in the end! I plan to finish up chapter 5 and start on chapter 6 for June.

• New milestone photos of our son. My sister-in-law is an incredibly talented photographer with a new studio in her home, and she was so kind to take some milestone photos of my son. He is a man on a mission at all times, so she had her work cut out for her. The photos turned out perfect, and I’m so grateful to have them!

• A garden party bachelorette. A few friends and I planned a garden party to celebrate another friend who is getting married this fall. My mother-in-law chipped in some stunning china, and one friend’s backyard had the most whimsical tree for us to eat under. My husband suggested he make lemon posset for dessert, and it was like a Pinterest pin come to life.

• Friends having babies. It’s getting hard to count the number of friends who are currently pregnant, and I love it so much.

• Beauty by Nature self-tanner. I’ve used a lot of self-tanners over the years, and this one is by far my favorite! It’s a nontoxic formula, which I love, and it doesn’t have the typical self-tanner smell. I use the buildable lotion, and it’s so easy to apply and doesn’t look orange. Even with my very fair skin, I think it looks surprisingly natural.

• 88 hours outside in May — our new record!

• Long evenings laying in the grass reading under a blue sky.

• Outdoor pizza night brought to us by my husband’s new pizza oven. This is as close as we’re getting to Italy for now, but the food is still amazing.

• We finally got around to working on our front landscaping. It was a true jungle out there, but after 8 hours straight, we finished it. A relief!

Though very full, May was full of sweet celebrations and long days outside. It felt like a true kickoff to summer!

I should probably feel a bit ashamed or guilty or convicted by how much I love this story, and I do — a little — but I mostly feel grateful that the Lord would allow us to live in a world with books, that he would give us the power and grace of story.

How deeply human, to be moved by story, compelled to live and love differently in light of them, to notice more goodness, more truth, and more beauty because of mere words strung together. These books have reminded me of my own love for books and words, how they have always been a hidden, secret, sacred place for me.

I have so fallen for the modern folly of aiming only to read a certain number of books a year that I think I have forgotten to love them for what they are: a gift and a grace.

For God was not content to place us on a dull earth, formless and void. Rather, he gave us a miraculous gift: blue sky, green earth, bubbling brooks, soaring mountains, raging seas, singing birds, fiery sunsets, rolling meadows. All to see and enjoy. And finally, he gave us words, that we might praise him for all of it. Even those who do not know him glorify him as they write and speak of beautiful, holy things — of babies born, of love found, of laughter shared, of grief acknowledged.

Our world is now so saturated with words, everyone typing, speaking, shouting at once in a chorus of senseless narcissism. They surround us with fear, rage, and anxiety.

May we never lose sight of the power of the words we use. May we not forget that these words of ours are far more capable of good than evil, and may we wield them so. May we allow them to be beautiful, joyous, sincere, honest, and good. May we look to those who have gone before and used them well, and may we allow ourselves to be inspired and bolstered, to dream and to think on lofty things.

It is a grace and a gift that the Lord has given us good books and stories.

In a world of distraction, may we read, and enjoy.

What else is there to say about April besides that it’s magical? So many things to celebrate this month — Easter, birthdays, milestones, getaways, and a surprise graduation. And the earth is green again?! How can it possibly get better?

You may recall the extreme rut I was in with my reading in March. I’m happy to report that it’s much improved thanks to some romance novels from Mhairi McFarlane. I also finally finished Giants in the Earth. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything quite like it, and I absolutely loved it. The setting is ominous and unsettling, and I think the commentary on the American Dream from the perspective of a Norwegian immigrant is fascinating. Here’s to more reading outside in May!

• Completed: Just Last Night by Mhairi McFarlane, Between Us by Mhairi McFarlane, The Road Back to You by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile, The Unseen Battle by Dr. Joel Muddamalle, Giants in the Earth by O. E. Rolvaag

• Still Reading: Anne’s House of Dreams by L. M. Montgomery, Habits of the Household by Justin Whitmel Earley (reread), The Unseen Realm by Dr. Michael Heiser, and The Martian by Andy Weir

• Noah Kahan’s new album, The Great Divide, and absolutely nothing else

I’ve really been enjoying diving into Dr. Michael Heiser’s work on the divine council, along with Nate and Luke at Blurry Creatures. This whole world of the supernatural and unseen realm has entirely transformed my view of God in the best way. He is so much bigger than I could ever fathom, and the world in which I operate is far more complex than I realized. This knowledge that I am a player in a supernatural battle has been so exciting, challenging, and awe-inspiring.

If you’re interested in learning more, here are a few of my favorite Blurry Creatures episodes so far:

Ep. 18 - Return of the Nephilim with Ryan Pitterson

Ep. 272 - Michael, Melchizedek, and Metratron with Doug Van Dorn

Ep. 381 - The Cosmic Mountain: Eden, Sinai, and the War for Sacred Space with Dr. Joel Muddamalle

Ep. 401 - The Earth Before Adam: Satan’s Fall, the Ancient Earth, and the End Game with Ryan Pitterson

• Finished all of Hebrews 3 in April

• Working through Hebrews 4 for May

• Our scripture memory group starts back up for the summer this week! I’m looking forward to hearing everyone’s progress over the next few months.

• Our back screen door. Now that the weather is warming up, it’s been so nice to leave the back door open with the screen door closed. My one-year-old is big enough to open the screen door on his own, so he just spends the day going in and out to play with his water table on the deck.

• A vibrantly-pink bush in our backyard. Don’t ask me what kind it is because I have no idea, but it felt like the epitome of spring to watch it bloom over the last few weeks.

• A wardrobe refresh with some birthday money. It’s been a few years now of having a vision of how I want to dress but not having the right pieces to actually execute that vision. I decided to take some of my birthday money and buy a bunch of new pants and tops that I love, and it has been so fun to have clothes that I look forward to wearing!

• A fun getaway to Wisconsin. A few months ago, my husband and I scheduled our first overnight trip without our son to celebrate my birthday. We had the best time. It was a trip I didn’t realize I needed until we were there, and it was so refreshing to just be the two of us without the typical rush of a date night. While we were there, he surprised me and told me that he had finished his bachelor’s degree a month earlier than anticipated — an unbelievable relief to us both! He’s been in school since we met, and he has worked so hard in the last year to graduate. I’m incredibly proud of him!!

• My new tiny Bible. As I work on memorizing Hebrews, I was wanting a smaller Bible that I could carry around with me more easily. Enter: tiny Bible! It’s the same size as my phone and now goes everywhere with me.

Honestly, as this month came to a close, it didn’t feel like there were many wins. Sure, there were lots of fun things, but we’ve also been quite busy, which has led to me feeling a bit burnt out and struggling to stay disciplined. My toddler has been sick a few times this month, and that has drained me more than I expected.

I’m hopeful for more rest and time with friends in May, along with longer, warmer days. There is new mercy for us all in the morning.

I’m praying that your next month is full of joyful things to celebrate. That you get to eat outside and run through an open field and listen to your favorite artist with the windows down. That you laugh a lot and eat good food and are reminded again and again that you are loved by the Creator of all. I’m grateful for you, friends!

With love,

Amber

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“Well, this little stinker is breech.”

These words, so flippantly spoken by an ultrasound tech, changed everything.

I was one day past my due date with no plan for what to do in the case of a breech baby. As far as I was aware, he had been head down for weeks at that point, as late as my 39-week appointment.

It had never crossed my mind that a breech baby was even a possibility, but I knew enough about modern-day obstetrics to know there was no chance my provider was going to let me attempt a vaginal birth.

In that dimly lit room, cold ultrasound wand pressed into my exceedingly large bump, I felt all my hopes for the natural birth I had been planning slip away.

It’s over, I thought. They’re not even going to let me try.

If you want the very detailed full story, I wrote about it shortly after my son’s birth here and here. Despite many attempts to turn him, I did end up having an unwanted, uneventful C-section. I had a large, healthy, perfect baby, and my recovery was normal. Not a complication in sight.

Apart from my new scar, I was physically completely fine. Even mentally, I had a wonderful postpartum experience, despite returning to work after only six weeks. I felt like myself again very quickly, and I found so much joy and purpose and wonder in taking care of a newborn.

The damage that had been done was not visible; it was spiritual.

I had spent ten long months preparing for this birth, doing the mental and spiritual work to not fear birth but to believe that God had intentionally created my body to birth my baby. I had hired the doula, listened to the podcasts, done the pelvic floor exercises, did all the inversions and fascial release known to man.

Most significantly, I had written out specific prayers about the birth I was hoping for, the birth I believed the Lord had intended for me and my baby, and I prayed over that list regularly. I believed that God was fully able to answer those prayers. Intellectually, I knew that God is not a vending machine, that he was not obligated to answer the way I wanted just because I prayed boldly. But I believe praying specifically matters, because I think the things that matter to us matter to God. So I prayed and believed.

And his answer was no.

In the early weeks after, I felt strangely embarrassed. For months, I had been praying, confident that God would answer with a resounding Yes! Yet, in his sovereignty, he knew the whole time how it was all going to go. Why didn’t he stop me? Give me a head’s up? Clue me in to the reality of what was coming?

This is a post for a different time, but I think I probably thought I had earned special favor with God, that he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to me, his favorite kid.

The truth is, he doesn’t have favorites; he has indescribable, steadfast, and abounding love for all of his kids, and because of that love, he didn’t stop me from having a C-section I didn’t want.

In the book of Job, after 37 chapters of Job and his friends discussing, evaluating, and accusing God for why he allowed suffering to seemingly destroy Job’s life, God finally speaks. It is humbling, to say the least.

Then the Lord answered Job from the whirlwind. He said:
Who is this who obscures my counsel
with ignorant words?
Get ready to answer me like a man;
when I question you, you will inform me.
Where were you when I established the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding.
Who fixed its dimensions? Certainly you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it?
What supports its foundations?
Or who laid its cornerstone
while the morning stars sang together
and all the sons of God shouted for joy?

He goes on for three chapters, and at the end Job responds, his tone changed.

Then Job replied to the Lord:
I know that you can do anything
and no plan of yours can be thwarted.
You asked, “Who is this who conceals my counsel with ignorance?”
Surely I spoke about things I did not understand,
things too wondrous for me to know.
You said, “Listen now, and I will speak.
When I question you, you will inform me.”
I had heard reports about you,
but now my eyes have seen you.
Therefore, I reject my words and am sorry for them;
I am dust and ashes.

The simple answer for why God allowed my son to turn breech at the end of my pregnancy, why he allowed me to have a C-section instead of a vaginal birth, is not simple at all, but it is true: He is God. I am not.

That truth does not mean there isn’t grief, anger, disappointment. I’ve had plenty of all three of them. But it does mean that there is information I’m not privy to. In the beginning of Job, the readers get an inside look into a conversation between the adversary and God. Job doesn’t get to know about that conversation.

In the same way, there were circumstances happening, possibly within my own body, that I was unaware of. I have no way of knowing the things God was protecting me and my baby from. I can never be certain that having a C-section saved mine or my baby’s life — that information isn’t mine to know. But I do know that it is what God decided to allow. No amount of extra birth prep or altered decisions in the moment could have changed it.

After 19 months, I can say with Job in confidence, “Surely I spoke about things I did not understand, things too wondrous for me to know… Therefore, I reject my words and am sorry for them. I am dust and ashes.”

Lord willing, I will have more chances to give birth, and I will pray specifically for those births as well, just as I did the first time. But next time, I won’t be praying for only his hand, but for his presence, his wisdom, his peace, his love to reign in me, no matter the outcome.

Romans 8:28 tells us that “God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose.” Whether I see the good now or in heaven, he is working it out in my life and in the whole world.

Next time, I don’t have to fight for an outcome out of fear. I can rest, knowing that the good will come, no matter the pain, no matter the crooked path to get there, no matter my lack of understanding. I am not God, and I do not need to have all the information to believe that he is who he says he is.

If I had to rank the months, March would definitely be in my bottom five. It’s a weird transition month in the Midwest, and I usually just want to rush through it to get to the good stuff. I felt a bit of that this year too, if I’m honest, but as I worked on this recap I was reminded of all the good March held all on its own. Let’s get into it:

There has been a shocking lack of reading for me this month. I honestly can’t remember the last time I only finished one book in a month, which isn’t a flex, more a cause for concern, probably. I think I’m just in a rut, but I’ll get out… eventually. Until then, I’ll just keep watching the superfan episodes of The Office like I’ve been doing every evening.

• Completed: Smart Moves by Carla Hannaford. A good read about the connections between movement and learning. Very helpful for someone who hopes to homeschool a very rambunctious boy someday!

• Still reading: Anne of Windy Poplars, Giants in the Earth, Covenantal and Dispensational Theologies: Four Views, Praying the Psalms with Augustine and Friends

• This episode of Theology in the Raw with Dr. Joel Muddamalle launched my husband and I down a theological rabbit hole that we had so much fun with.

• Blurry Creatures - Part of the above mentioned rabbit hole. We’re loving this podcast that explores the weird and confusing parts of the Bible.

• How to grow my Substack. I have really grown to love sharing on Substack these last few months, and I would love to eventually somehow make money with this little writing hobby. I’ve decided to commit to Substack and just see what happens over the next year. Currently, I’m posting two long-form articles a week, along with one monthly recap. I’ve also started posting on Notes once or twice a day to build connections within the Substack community itself.

• To keep knitting even when I’m not good at it. I started learning how to knit over the winter and loved it right away. But now that I’ve completed two very basic scarves, I’m feeling a bit intimidated by taking the next step to get better. I truly hate doing things I’m bad at, and right now knitting is one of those things. Every time I make a mistake, I want to quit immediately, but I think that impulse is the exact reason I need to keep going. So, I’m currently working on a 1x1 rib stitch scarf that is going better than when I first started. Stay tuned in September when it’s finally done!

• To never buy glasses at the eye doctor’s office. This month I went to the eye doctor after many years, and I will never not be shocked by the cost of frames and lenses in the doctor’s office. I mean, highway robbery?? I nodded politely through the sales pitch, asked for a printed copy of my prescription, and immediately went home and ordered two new pairs of glasses online for a quarter of the cost of the lenses they were trying to sell me on.

Last fall, my mom started a scripture memory group, where we worked on memorizing Romans 12. I was pretty nervous about trying to memorize a passage that long, but I’m happy to report that we had our last meeting of the school year this month and I now have Romans 12 completely memorized! This practice has bolstered my confidence and convinced me I can memorize far more than I thought.

Because of that bolstered confidence, I’ve decided to memorize the whole book of Hebrews. I finished chapter 2 last week but felt like I wasn’t ready to move on from Hebrews yet. So I went back and started on chapter 1, which I finished yesterday, and I will (slowly) work my way through the whole book. It feels super intimidating, but I’m excited about diving deeper into this rich book.

• ILLINOIS IN THE FINAL FOUR!! Basically the only thing I’m talking and thinking about this week.

• Seeing old friends. Earlier this month, I took the day off and drove a few hours to see two of my dear college friends for coffee and lunch. It was such a relief and a joy to my soul to see them. We’ve now known each other for almost 10 years, and it’s true what they say: you really can’t make old friends. Being with them is like putting on your favorite college sweatshirt at the end of a stressful day. Cozy and calming and lovely. I don’t have to worry about being anything other than myself with them. I adore them, and I wish every day that I could teleport and see them all the time.

• Lots and lots of sunshine. We’ve had quite a few warm and sunny days this March, and we’ve spent all of them outside. Shout out to our backyard water table for occupying my toddler for so long.

• Homemade shaken honey espresso. The perfect nap time treat.

• Deodorant that actually works. Okay, this is not a new take, but I tried swapping my deodorant for a nontoxic version, and I’ve decided I’ll just keep the toxins for now. First, the crunchy brand made my arms and armpits break out horribly, and then I was still so smelly allllll the time?? I think I’ll just swap something else out and then they’ll cancel each other out — that’s how that works, right? Anyway, I went back to my Old Spice and I simply love not being stinky.

• Did I mention ILLINOIS IS IN THE FINAL FOUR!!!!!!!

• 40 hours outside this month! We beat our goal of 35 hours from last March!

• More active on Substack. I posted more consistently on Notes this month and gained a few more subscribers. I’m always so shocked when people subscribe — thank you!

• I graduated from pelvic floor therapy! I had my last pelvic floor therapy appointment last week, and all of my mobility/flexibility measurements have improved from my initial appointment. I’m feeling very motivated to get as strong as I can before getting pregnant again.

A few small goals for April:

• 36 hours outside. Looking forward to lots more sunny spring days this month!

• Memorize Hebrews 3:1-8. Keep reviewing Hebrews 1 and 2.

• Post one Note a day on Substack.

• Walk and strength train 3 times a week. I failed abysmally on my walking goal for March. I think I walked maybe one day the entire month. I’m going to try implementing a new routine by doing it first thing in the morning and combining it with my scripture memory time.

• Cut sugar and Diet Coke; focus on eating actual meals instead of snacks. This is tied to wanting to get stronger before my next pregnancy. I’m curious to see what kind of difference it would make on a pregnancy if I actually prepared myself this time around. So no sugar!

Once again, if you read all of this, I am so so grateful. Thank you, always, for reading my words. Let me know what your March favorites were — I want to hear all your lists!

Love you all,

Amber

But this long month brings with it something else — merely a game, nothing more. But still more to most. Why else would this tournament, this little game, hold so much power, so much love, so much joy for so many?

It’s a ball in a hoop, shoes squeaking on a hardwood floor, “Just a game,” they tell me. But it’s also a girl and her dad — so alike and so different — finding, together, something to love.

When March rolls around, I remember things I thought I had forgotten.

Him, after dinner, teaching me how to post up as if I were going to grow to be 6’ 2” and play in the WMBA, as though I weren’t 10-years-old.

Him, in the driveway, beating me in HORSE with an impossible shot from the grass.

Us, in my high school gym, speechless and devastated by a last-second made three by Winnebago High School.

Me, storming off, after he corrected my shooting form one too many times.

Me, behind the scorer’s table on a freezing weekend morning, keeping stats while he sent in subs for my brother’s team.

Us, on the phone during an Illinois game, trying to hold on to joy and fun and hope while I was the most depressed I’ve ever been.

It has never been just a game for me.

We have fought over much. We have laughed over more. And I think that for the rest of my life, when I hear that silly little theme song, I will think of him and love him more. I will know the texts he will send before he sends them, I will know which announcers annoy him, I will know which commercials he will laugh at. I know which games will cause him to call me in the last four minutes, and which will get to be too much for him until he has to leave the room.

I love everything about this game, but March has always been about so much more than this game to me. It’s something to share with him, something to love and laugh at and cry over together.

Basketball has always been the game of my father, and I have always loved it — because it reminds me of him.

If I had to guess, I would say that I spent about 10 years of my life surviving the weekdays in anticipation of the weekend. From the time I was 16 until I had my first baby, I was often counting down the days of the week from the second my alarm went off in the morning. I still do sometimes. The weekends are wonderful. During those two days, I get to just be Mom, instead of Mom and Employee and Homemaker. But in terms of the percentage of my life spent enjoying versus dreading, the numbers aren’t great. I wanted a different way — a way that wasn’t dependent on my season of life, whether I was single or married, a working mom or a stay-at-home mom, or the home I was living in. I didn’t realize it then, but what I needed was a new theology of home.

At the beginning of the year, I read Every Home A Foundation by Phylicia Masonheimer. This book is the culmination of her work on theology of home — a work that has transformed the way I live my life. Anyone who knows me knows that I can’t go five minutes talking about theology without bringing up Phylicia Masonheimer.

I began following Phylicia on Instagram in 2022, shortly after getting married. I was working from home and feeling confused and stuck about what my purpose was. At the time, I was working full-time from our 850 square foot rental home. What Phylicia was sharing on social media about home and domestic life was unlike anything I had ever heard before. To her, home wasn’t a burden but an opportunity to work hard, steward well, and encounter the presence of God. Her vision of home and family life was incredibly compelling, and it launched me into a new way of following Jesus.

During that time living in that tiny, tiny house, I began to think through my systems and routines. Honestly, I didn’t have many. I did dishes when they piled up. I did laundry when the underwear was running low. I mopped the floor when there was a mess. Me taking care of our home was really just me reacting to our home, not necessarily stewarding it. I was not creating systems that brought life and joy.

I started simply. I adopted Phylicia’s method of zone cleaning and assigned a specific task to each day, in addition to one load of laundry per day (we didn’t have much laundry back then).

• Monday: Vacuum and wash sheets and towels

• Tuesday: Mop and wash our clothes

• Wednesday: Clean the bathroom

• Thursday: Water the plants

That system at the time was simple because our life was simple. We didn’t have enough space for a lot of stuff, and we didn’t have any kids to create messes. The system worked, and I began to notice how much freer I felt because of it. Suddenly, I was interacting with our home in a proactive way, which made me feel more productive and responsible. I was making a home instead of being overwhelmed by it.

And that tiny difference freed me.

In managing our home proactively, I began to see it differently. I began to notice how the light shifted and spilled across our gray vinyl floors. I began to love the order and accomplishment of dishes well done. I began to pray for my husband as I folded his t-shirts. I began to feel purpose in the work of the home — work that no one saw but God. In every work of home I completed well, I was reminded that God saw it and loved it. He was with me in every task. That shift in my understanding of work freed me to begin to see his beauty and goodness in every moment.

A few months later, we moved into a home with a bit more space, and a few months after that, we found out I was pregnant. That simple little system I had implemented in our rental home transferred to our new home, and with some minor adjustments, it has carried me through the last 18 months of taking care of my baby-turned-toddler.

I don’t think it’s possible for me to overemphasize how this small change has radically transformed my relationship with the Lord. I think there are far more implications for a strong theology of home than this one article can cover. These rhythms have freed me to see Jesus beyond the bounds of what I had thought was “ministry.”

Before, without even realizing it, I had confined Jesus to my daily “quiet time” and church-sanctioned programming. After this change, I have been able to welcome him into corners of my life that I hadn’t even known had been withheld.

Yes, Lord, I see you in these tiny fingerprints on the back door.

Yes, Lord, I see you, as I organize this crowded fridge.

Yes, Lord, you have provided our every need, as I put away groceries.

Yes, Lord, you dress us like the sparrows, as I move wet laundry to the dryer.

Yes, Lord, you have made me clean, as I wipe countertops.

Every act of stewardship and care for my home and family is worship, and he is with me in all of it. I don’t have to attend a worship night or meditate in a prayer closet for 45 minutes to encounter my God. When it is all done unto him, his presence becomes tangible to me. Not that he wasn’t always with me before, but now I am free to notice. And in the noticing, I see him. My life has always been full of truth and goodness and beauty, but these rhythms have allowed me to see it most clearly.

These systems aren’t revolutionary. You’ve heard them all before. But they have formed me into a person who is more disciplined, less frazzled, and more committed to following Jesus, even in the most mundane of tasks. Here’s a list of my top four rhythms that have taught me to love my days.

1. Getting up first.

This one is for the moms. Some of you love it, some of you are tired of hearing it. It may not be for you, but it definitely is for me. Getting up before my son, even just by five minutes, changes the trajectory of my day. When I wake up at the same time as him, I spend my day keeping up, constantly feeling overwhelmed and behind. If I can get up, go downstairs, turn on the lights, and start playing some calm music, I feel so much more on top of my day.

2. One load of laundry a day.

No more laundry day for me. We have about three loads of laundry a week currently, so I do one load on Monday, one on Tuesday, and one on Wednesday. Our washing machine and dryer are in our creepy, gross basement, so the fewer times a day I have to go down there, the better. Plus, finding time to fold laundry can be tough between work and a toddler. One load a day, start to finish, is manageable and nonnegotiable.

3. A little a day cleaning.

Like I mentioned before, I still do one or two cleaning tasks a day. My current schedule is:

• Monday: Vacuum downstairs

• Tuesday: Clean the bathroom

• Wednesday: Wipe down the stove, sink, and microwave

• Thursday: Water the plants and take out the tiny bathroom and bedroom trashcans

• Friday: Vacuum upstairs

I also load the dishwasher throughout the day and run it every night, and I clean up the playroom at every transition point (nap time and bed time). I tidy the house as I notice things throughout the day.

4. Daily time outside.

My goal is to get outside every day no matter the weather. This connection to nature is so incredibly important for my mental and spiritual health, and there are innumerable benefits for kids to spend lots and lots of time outside. Typically, when I begin to feel overwhelmed by home, it’s because I haven’t been outside yet for the day. I started this practice in January of 2025, and it, too, has changed my life.

In Every Home A Foundation, Phylicia Masonheimer emphasizes that discipline leads to freedom. I have seen this firsthand. Now, I do far less Sunday evening rampage cleaning, I don’t panic when guests are coming over, and I have fewer arguments with my husband over the house.

God doesn’t only honor the work seen by others or the work done in a church building. He sees and honors it all. The changing of the diapers, the putting on of lotion on eczema-covered feet, the picking up of scrambled eggs thrown on the floor, the bleary-eyed Bible reading. It all matters to him. It is all grace. It is all eternal. It is all worth it to do it well, to do it as though he sees, because he does.

What a God we serve, that his love is so abounding that there is no thing too small for him to care about.

Last month, I read Anne of Green Gables for the first time. Since then I have been furiously consuming the entire series and am completely obsessed with Anne and her world. There are so many delightful things about Anne that are worth emulating, but the thing that has struck me most is the kind of friend she is. Early on in the series she and her “bosom friend” Diana form a kind of covenant friendship reminiscent of David and Jonathan. They declare their undying love and commitment to one another, no matter how life changes.

“I solemnly swear to be faithful to my bosom friend, Diana Barry, as long as the sun and moon shall endure,” Anne says.

Their friendship has caused me to grieve my own lack of this similar girlhood friendship. My own early experiences of friendship were marked by cruelty, manipulation, and just a general spirit of meanness, something we see no hints of between Anne and Diana. For many years, I thought that maybe friendship just wasn’t for me. I couldn’t seem to get it right.

What I’ve since discovered is that what I was looking for in friendship was impossible apart from Christ. I wanted a friend who would give me a sense of identity, belonging, and purpose because I lacked all those things on my own. I didn’t just want someone I could depend on; I wanted someone I could be dependent on.

It has taken me a decade to undo the selfish and manipulative tendencies I had learned about friendship, and I still have to be aware of them even now. I now have the most gracious, patient, understanding, and merciful friends — people who have taught me the heart of God. I no longer believe friendship “isn’t for me.” In fact, I believe that friendship is not just nice to have, but a requirement for a healthy, fulfilling life — especially for the Christian.

My case for Christian friendship is simply this: Christ chose to spend his days on earth in friendship.

Jesus could have been a lone ranger. He could’ve wandered around Judea on his own, performing miracles and healing the sick then skirting off on his own to a tent in the mountains. But he did the opposite. He gathered around him twelve men to spend his days with. Yes, he was their teacher, and their goal was to learn from him and emulate him. But he opened himself up to them in ways that would make many of us uncomfortable if we were asked to do the same.

These men knew things about Jesus that aren’t recorded in the Scriptures. They knew Jesus’ favorite foods, whether he snored or not, how long he took to get ready in the morning. They knew what his laugh sounded like, and they could tell when he was upset. They walked with him through both joy and sorrow, every day for three years.

Jesus chose to live amongst his friends, and that’s exactly how he saw them: as his friends.

In John 15, we learn quite a bit about Jesus’ friendship with the disciples and, consequently, about his friendship with us.

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you.” John 15:12-16

In these verses, we learn three things about friendship:

1. It is sacrificial.

To Jesus, the pinnacle of his friendship with the disciples is his death, when he gives up his own life so that they may know true life. This sacrifice should then continue on in their friendships with one another, for they are to love one another as he has loved them — by laying down their own lives.

2. It is intimate.

The disciples are no longer mere servants of their rabbi. There now exists between them a new intimacy because Jesus has let them in on everything the Father has told him. As BibleHub puts it, “Servants receive orders, friends receive confidences.”

3. It sanctifies.

In Jesus’ mind, friends are not yes men, or fans, or admirers. Jesus’ friendship with the disciples had a purpose: that they might bear fruit. He didn’t surround himself with people who were obsessed with him, who thought he was flawless (although, okay, I guess in this case they probably did), so that he could be showered in compliments all day long. He knew that their friendship with him and with one another should produce good works in their lives that would bring glory to the Father.

Two chapters later, in John 17, we discover that Jesus has more than just the Twelve in mind during this conversation. In 17:20, Jesus prays for all who will call themselves his disciples, and thus, he welcomes us into this type of sacrificial, intimate, and sanctifying friendship as well.

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” John 17:20-21

During this meal with his friends, Jesus was thinking about all believers for all time. He was thinking about his friends, about me and you. Not only have we received redemption, freedom, and victory from Christ, but in him we get to know the sacrificial, intimate, and sanctifying friendship of God.

This is not a friendship intended to be kept to ourselves, though. Just like he could have been a party of one, Jesus also could have just chosen one or two people to call his friends while on earth. But he didn’t. He chose the messier route, the more chaotic way. He chose twelve. Jesus was not concerned with protecting his energy or making sure he had enough “me time.” He poured himself out for these men in order to teach them what friendship in the kingdom of God is to look like.

Sacrificial, intimate, sanctifying friendship is the way of Jesus. Christians should have these types of friendships, and ideally, more than one of them. Of course there are healthy boundaries and time constraints on us all, but this is the model we see in the life of Jesus, and it is the expectation for Christians in the New Testament.

This type of friendship is hard work. It takes time to build, and it requires far more of us than we would like to give. This has always been the case. I think sometimes we like to pretend that Christians in the New Testament were just so different from us that this type of community was easier then than it is now. Maybe so, but if it was so much easier, why were the New Testament writers constantly reminding their readers to love one another?

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves. Philippians 2:3

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. 1 John 4:7-8

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Romans 12:10

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

I don’t need to be reminded to do the things that come naturally to me. So it seems that, maybe, living together in Christ-like friendship didn’t come naturally to the early followers of Jesus either. And still, it must be the way of the people of God.

I am not yet the friend I would like to be. I’m not so great at remembering important things and dropping by with coffee. But I am learning that true friendship is marked by the heart of Christ. It gives without demanding equal reciprocation. It challenges with words laced with grace. It pushes in closer and deeper, desiring to get into your heart and understand. It does not let you off the hook in your sin, but it always chooses to assume the best. It walks with you through joy and sorrow. It is a reflection of our Lord. Friendship with our good God leads us to more sacrificial, more intimate, more sanctifying friendship with one another. It is the way that leads to life.

Something I’ve discovered about myself in the last few years is my enduring love of a good newsletter. I don’t care what it’s about or who it’s from — if I get a newsletter in my inbox I will read it without question. So, as I dive more into experimenting with Substack, I thought I’d create my own! At the end of the month, I’ll be sending out a little recap of some things that I’ve done (or didn’t do), loved, and plan to do in the next month. I hope it adds a little fun and connection to this space. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Let’s get into it!

• Completed: Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island

• Still reading: Anne of Windy Poplars, Giants in the Earth, Covenantal and Dispensational Theologies: Four Views, Praying the Psalms with Augustine and Friends

This month, I’ve been in one lane only, and that is Anne of Green Gables. Why didn’t anyone tell me how captivating this series is?! How did I not know?? I am simply obsessed. I love everything about them.

I’ve also really been enjoying Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rolvaag. I’ve been describing it as Little House on the Prairie for adults. It follows the story of Norwegian immigrants building a life on the North Dakota prairie in the 1870s, and it’s really gripping. Despite originally being written in Norwegian and later translated into English, the characters and story are so alive. I can’t wait to finish this one next month.

Typically, I would have far more to say about what podcasts I’m listening to, but one of the unexpected side effects of quitting Instagram is that I’ve unintentionally been reducing the amount of noise in other areas of my life. Usually, I have 4 or 5 weekly shows I’m keeping up with, but lately it’s just two:

• Ghostrunners - because I love a podcast about nothing that makes me giggle

• Verity - If you know me, you know I love everything Phylicia Masonheimer creates, and her podcast is no different. She’s in the middle of a series on prayer right now, and I love how in depth the episodes are so far.

• How to succinctly communicate with a one-year-old. One thing about me: I’m a yapper, and that includes to my son. I’ve spent the last year yapping to him all day, every day, just because I can. But now that he’s understanding and communicating back more, I’m finding it hard to condense my point into simple statements that won’t overwhelm or confuse him. I know kids, and boys especially, need fewer words from adults, so I’m really trying to practice that now while he’s still young.

• Covenantal and dispensational theologies. Please don’t ask me anything about this yet. This is one area of theology I’ve been wanting to dig into for a while, and so far it still feels quite a ways over my head. I’m eager to understand more generally about these two systems and unpack what Scripture says and what I may or may not think about them.

• What the heck Hebrews is about. A couple friends and I are currently going through Jen Wilkin’s Hebrews study together, and it has been so eye-opening. I hadn’t even realized how much I didn’t understand this book until we started the study, and it has been such a rich study for me. It honestly feels like the Lord has given me new eyes — like I’ve never read this book before. It is beautiful and encouraging and challenging.

I’ll write more about Scripture memory in an upcoming post, but for now I’ll just say that in the last year I have incorporated Scripture memory into my daily time in prayer and Bible study. So far this year I have memorized Matthew 5:1-11, the Nicene Creed, Hebrews 4:14-16 and Hebrews 2:1-8. I’m currently working on memorizing all of Hebrews 2, in tandem with our Hebrews study.

• A taste of spring in February followed by a return to winter coziness. This one will be unpopular, but a few weeks ago it was 60 degrees and sunny for several days here in the Midwest. It was glorious and magical and perfect. I loved every second of it. That being said, it’s also weird and kind of wrong for it to be that warm in the middle of winter, so I was honestly a bit relieved when the temperature dropped again. I broke out my taper candles and electric blanket and went right back to enjoying the coziness of our home while it lasts. The warm weather will return in its correct season, and I will be the first one to welcome it back with open arms.

• My toddler’s obsession with his belly. No need to elaborate here.

• A new spring sweater + tinted brow gel. As someone who has been filling in her eyebrows for nearly a decade, I have no idea why it’s never crossed my mind to use tinted brow gel before, but I’ll never go back.

• Birthday day trips + Friday pizza night. Last week was my husband’s birthday, so we both took the day off and spent it in Iowa City. It was our first family day since October, and it was so needed and refreshing. That Friday, we opened our home to some friends for a birthday celebration, which got me thinking about a super easy hospitality opportunity: Friday pizza night. Order some pizza, everybody chips in, paper plates and cups, invite all kinds of people. It’s easy to host and gives everyone something fun and consistent to look forward to at the end of the week.

• My first foray into pelvic floor therapy + a return to sustainable exercise. As I begin to think about and plan for a second pregnancy, I’m looking to prepare my body on the front end this time in hopes of minimizing the pelvic pain I experienced last time. My pelvic floor therapist is amazing, and I’ve felt really encouraged and hopeful about my next pregnancy and birth experience!

• 17 hours outside this month (!)

• Successful toddler eczema treatment. This one is such an answered prayer. My toddler’s eczema has taken up so much of my brain these past few months, but we’ve finally found a routine that has (nearly) eradicated it. I didn’t even believe it was possible, and I’m so grateful.

• No Instagram login in more than 2 weeks. I’ve been mostly off of Instagram for several months, but I haven’t even logged in on my phone or desktop in more than two weeks. I have no desire to return. I have lost nothing in leaving.

I’m not the best at goal-setting, especially now with a tiny crazy person (the aforementioned toddler) following me around all day, but I’m adding them for the sake of accountability.

• 35 hours outside. My outdoor goals for Jude and I this year are simply to beat our monthly numbers from last year. Last March we were outside for 34 hours, so this year we’re aiming for 35.

• Memorize Hebrews 2:9-16 (ideally more but trying to be realistic)

• Two Substack topical posts, one monthly recap

• Walk 3 times a week (I usually aim for 30-40 minutes outside or on my walking pad); continue pelvic floor strengthening exercises 7 times a week.

If you stuck around for all of this, thank you thank you thank you. I’m always so grateful for any feedback I receive from you all. I love hearing your thoughts and opinions and would love to hear some of your favorite February things!

I will never forget my introduction to theology.

I was an eighteen-year-old freshman in college, only a few weeks into the semester. I was fresh out of the whirlwind of packing up my life and moving out of my childhood bedroom into this strange new college town. I was in the process of discovering that the world was far bigger than I had thought.

On this particular night, I was crammed into the dorm room of my new friends four doors down from my own room. Between those lofted beds, six of us sat on the cold, tile floor, jumping from conversation topic to topic so fast a passerby would have thought we had been friends forever.

Despite my attending a state school, and the rhetoric (mostly fear) around such schools from many Christians, God in His providence had placed me on a floor with several other Christians. Girls who were kinder, funnier, and more welcoming than I ever could have hoped. That first year together, we spent most nights together in our dorms, talking, laughing, doing homework, and watching Grey’s Anatomy.

I don’t remember what we had been discussing that September night, but I vividly remember my friend Lyndsey turning to me and asking, “What do you think about predestination, Amber?”

“I… don’t know what that word means,” I responded.

And so it began. At once, everyone began sharing what they thought about predestination. I don’t remember hearing a succinct definition, but I do remember hearing about the elect and free will and an analogy about airplanes taking off. I remember feeling overwhelmed and thrilled and confused and excited and, mostly, alive.

Up until that point in my life, I had mostly understood the Bible as a rule book full of instructions that I didn’t know how to follow. I had no understanding of the character of God, I barely understood the gospel, and I really had no concept of what Jesus’ death actually meant for humanity.

At the core of it, I didn’t think of God as someone very interesting, or as someone very interested in being understood, especially not by me. It had never once occurred to me that I could ask God questions, about Himself or anything else for that matter.

There are not a lot of moments in my life that I can point to and say, “That changed me forever,” but this is one of them. It’s hard for me to remember now what my faith was like before this conversation, before I began to study God and His word, but I do know that it was stale and lifeless and confusing. God had changed my heart, but theology would change how I engaged with that God.

I’ve never been one of those people with a clear “calling.” I don’t even know if I really believe in “callings” in the way they’re often talked about, but I do know this: one of the great purposes of my life is to study God and know Him more deeply so that I, and every place and person I interact with, might see Him more clearly.

Theology is, literally, the study of God. And how am I to know Him if I do not study Him?

I know the word theology makes some people uncomfortable. I’m not the first to recognize that anti-intellectualism has plagued the American church for many decades now. We’re more comfortable with using our feelings in church than our brains, but the truth of the matter is that, as Phylicia Masonheimer often says, you already have a theology.

You see, God created us as physical, spiritual, emotional, and intellectual beings. And try as you might to separate those things, they are interwoven into your being, each impacting the other without your full understanding or permission. Because of this, you already believe certain things about God, whether in your mind, your heart, or your spirit, and they influence how you choose to live every day.

For example, if you believe — whether you know it or not — that God is angry with you, that He can’t wait for you to mess up so that He can shame you, you will likely be angry or anxious yourself, and you certainly aren’t eager to repent when you do make a mistake.

If you believe — whether you know it or not — that He is ambivalent, more like a universal force than a loving God, you probably don’t see a lot of value in the work you do at home, at your job, or in your relationships. You may think the things you care about don’t matter to God. You may wonder what the point is of praying at all.

If you believe — whether you know it or not — that God is only holy and never gracious, that He is too big for little ol’ you, then you may try all the more to handle things on your own for the sake of “not bothering” God.

I hope that you’re beginning to see that theology is not a hypothetical. It is not all theory and no practice. Yes, it can be lofty. Yes, it can be overintellectual at times. Yes, there is much that you will never fully grasp about the mysteries of God. But this God we serve has chosen to reveal Himself to us through the person of Jesus Christ so that we might know Him better. What kind of God does this?

I love the act of studying God. But even more, I love that the act of studying God changes how I live. The study of God has filled my head with facts — that’s true — but it has also filled my heart with a deep, rich love for God. Phylicia Masonheimer, in her book Every Woman a Theologian, puts it like this: “Theology without intimacy is a hollow thing, neither relevant nor compelling. No unbelieving person wants it, and they shouldn’t, because it isn’t Christianity. Pursue theology to pursue God’s heart, and you will be surprised to find that doctrine leads to devotion.”

Not only does theology compel me to love God more, it has given me an entrance into the legacy of faith that has been left throughout church history. As I began to study more, I discovered that I was not the first person to ask these tough questions about the nature and character of God and His word. Millions of Christians have gone before me, and many devoted their lives to the pursuit of this understanding. They have offered themselves and their words to me, and I am indebted to their wisdom.

Through the study of theology and, consequently, church history, I can see that despite only being a second generation Christian, I am not alone. There is a legacy here. There are answers here. Sure, some day we will be face-to-face with Jesus and discover that we were wrong about a great many things. Hopefully, we can hold those things loosely until then. But at the same time, there are many other things that are worth pursuing answers for. Things like the character of God, the humanity and divinity of Jesus, the function of the Trinity, and the atoning work of Christ. Diving into these things has transformed my view of God and my view of myself and others.

More than anything, theology is a well of God’s goodness that never runs dry. There is always more to discover, more to fall in love with, more to adore. The purpose of studying theology is not so you can bring up penal substitutionary atonement at your small group. You will immediately become everyone’s least favorite person in the room. The purpose of studying theology is to cause you more awe and more wonder and more love for your God. Its aim is to lead you to pursue holiness, to love your neighbor better, and to push back the darkness through the truth, beauty, and goodness of our God.

You’re already living your theology. My hope is that you would live it purposely.

If you’re interested in diving in, here are a few of my favorite places to start:

• Every Woman a Theologian by Phylicia Masonheimer and her Substack.

• Delighting in the Trinity by Michael Reeves

• The Story of Christianity by Justo Gonzalez, Vol. I and Vol. II

• Theology in the Raw with Preston Sprinkle

• Humble Theology Substack by Joel Muddamalle

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Like so many others, I read Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt last spring. In July, I wrote this article about the effects I believed my phone addiction was having on my ability to think. A few months later, a friend gifted me a Brick, which I began occasionally using, typically in a panic after doomscrolling for an hour. I knew I had a serious problem on my hands, but despite my recognition, I felt powerless to stop it. It seemed that no matter what I did, I didn’t have the discipline—or the true desire—to put an end to this addiction. Each time I would spend a few days without Instagram, I would justify getting back on because I had “earned it” or because “it’s just so fun.” How much harm could a little scroll really do?

In December, I decided to take a two-week break from Instagram (my longest ever) while I was off work for Christmas. I wanted to enjoy the time with my son, learn to knit, and read as much as possible. So I set my Brick and deleted the apps. And aside from posting an end-of-year Instagram story, I was successful. No scrolling for two weeks!

Since returning to work in January, I’ve implemented some new boundaries for myself surrounding my phone that I’ve actually been able to maintain. And now, a month in, I feel comfortable saying that these are established habits and expectations now.

This didn’t happen magically or easily. I had to finally be honest with myself about how bad things had gotten, and I had to realize that Instagram, specifically, was stealing far more from me than I was gaining from it. I had to decide that enough was enough, that no amount of fun, silly videos were worth sacrificing my life for. Because that’s what I was trading. These apps aren’t free. They’re stealing your time, attention, critical thinking abilities, and compassion without your consent. Finally, I decided that Mark Zuckerberg couldn’t have any more of my life, and when I think about it like that, it’s the easiest decision in the world.

That said, I wanted to share some of the boundaries I’ve set that have worked, along with some of the more surprising things I’ve noticed in the last two months. For some of you, measures this drastic aren’t needed. Maybe you have a good balance with social media and you don’t have to treat yourself like an addict. That’s great! But for those who do resonate, my hope is that in reading this, you might finally decide, too, that enough is enough. That you might claw back your life from the cold, cruel grip of Instagram and live the one, precious life you have.

First off, here’s what I’m doing that has worked:

1. My Brick is always on — I have different modes: Morning, Work, Family, and Sleep. Sometimes I alternate through these during the day, depending on which apps I want access to or not, but typically it is always set to Work, which blocks all social media apps and websites. If I need to look something up on Reddit, I turn it off, find what I need, and immediately turn it back on.

2. Social media apps are not allowed on my phone — Even just seeing the icons is enough to tempt me, so I don’t have them downloaded. I do manage an Instagram account for work, so when I need to do something work-related, I download it, do what I need to do, and delete it again. If I want to look at an app for any other reason, I have to do it on my computer. It’s far less tempting to scroll on a desktop.

3. No scrolling Reels — Ever, under any circumstances. I really love watching Reels. It’s so fun for me, and it triggers every dopamine response I have. Even just a few minutes is enough for me to start justifying more and trying to get around the boundaries I’ve set. So, like an addict, I’ve simply had to say no more. Am I sad that I miss out on so many funny videos? Of course, but to me, it hasn’t been worth the time I lose and the anxiety that follows when I inevitably scroll for too long.

That’s it. Three things that I can easily remember and, less easily, stick to. They have had to become nonnegotiable, and like I mentioned earlier, they don’t work magically. They only work because I’ve decided I’ve had enough. The power of the Holy Spirit and simple boundaries are keeping me in line.

Now, on to the things that make it so, so worth it. Here are a few things I’ve noticed since cutting out Instagram:

1. I have enough time in the day.

This one seems obvious, but I’ve truly been shocked by how much time there is now in my day and how much more purposeful that time feels. Instead of getting lost scrolling, I’m more productive in my work, in taking care of my home, and more intentional in spending meaningful time with my son and husband.

2. I’m making fewer impulsive purchases.

I’ve noticed that I’m spending far less time thinking about the clothes, products, and home I don’t have. I didn’t even realize this was something I thought so much about. But I’m spending way less time panic-searching for a product I didn’t know I “needed” until someone I followed posted about it, and consequently, spending less money on things I don’t need. Simply put, I have more contentment without Instagram (shocking, I know).

3. The community I live in has become more real to me.

I’m not sure if this one is going to make sense, but when you’re chronically online, the Internet feels like the real world, and the real world feels less like reality. I didn’t know that was the case until I cut my Internet time way back. Now, my son and I go on daily walks around the neighborhood, and everything feels so real. And I feel so much more connected to all of it. I’m less detached is maybe the best way to say it. I am a tangible part of the interconnected web that makes up creation. So are you, but the Internet blurs and distorts that web.

4. I do miss out on some things, but not as much as I thought I would.

We don’t live in a time with newspapers any more, so I’m definitely out of the loop on local news and the lives of some of my acquaintances. I hear things through the grapevine eventually, but some things I just miss. I was very worried about this feeling of missing out when I used to consider quitting social media. But now, a few months in, I’ve found that I don’t care as much as I thought I would. When you really quit, instead of checking back in, you don’t actually know what you’re missing. And then when you miss things, you realize that maybe those things aren’t that important anyway. We were made to live in small circles of community. I don’t need to know what is happening in everyone’s lives at once. I’ve found it a bit freeing, actually.

5. My anxieties are more aligned with my capacity to pray.

I’ve heard Phylicia Masonheimer quote this many times: “I only consume as much news as I have the capacity to pray for.” Within 30 seconds of opening Instagram, I am bombarded by more information than my brain can process. That overwhelming feeling almost immediately results in low-level anxiety, even if I’ve grown accustomed to it. Without that constant bombardment, I’m far less anxious, and I have more time to pray for the things that do make me anxious, like my family, my community, my country, and the world.

6. My memory is improving.

I’ve always had a pretty good memory, but between having a baby and fourteen years of social media use, my memory had deteriorated significantly. Already, I can tell it’s improving. I’m working on strengthening it through regular scripture memory, but I’m even getting better at remembering random pieces of information that friends tell me in passing, like what they did over the weekend (something that I had noticed I had gotten embarrassingly bad at).

7. My overall discipline is stronger.

Not getting on Instagram takes a lot of self-control for me. Practicing that self-control over and over again throughout the day has made it easier to practice self-control in other areas of my life. I’m waking up earlier, am more consistent in my study of scripture and in practicing my hobbies, am eating better, moving more frequently, and taking better care of my home. I don’t want this to read like a brag. I’m truly shocked by how much easier these tasks feel lately. Tasks that I used to dread are just so much easier now.

I don’t want to sound like a self-help book here. I want to be clear that these changes have come after years of ignoring the prompting of the Holy Spirit, something I’m not proud of. I have been deeply convicted and embarrassed by my lack of discipline in this area of my life. But God is so merciful and full of grace.

Day by day, He offers more grace, more strength, more endurance to break a habit so deeply ingrained. I pray that He would continue to form me towards more contentment, more self-control, more love. These are not things produced by Instagram. I’ve had to accept that and figure out how to fight back.

I have sacrificed so much of my life to a multi-billion dollar corporation. I will not willingly give away any more. I pray that you won’t either.

If you’re going to give away your life, give it away to your God, your family, your friends, and your neighbor. Don’t give it away to Instagram. It won’t give you anything back.

I know it has been a long stretch, but as the end of the year approaches, I have felt drawn once more to stringing together some words in an attempt to hopefully encourage you and myself to love Christ more fully.

Growing up, I was obsessed with Christmas. I spent the last four months of every year in agonizing anticipation over the arrival of Christmas. I believed in Santa until I was 11, and I was utterly devastated to learn that he was, as my dad put it, like Mickey Mouse — “just a guy in a suit.” I adored everything about Christmas, and I still do.

As we all learn eventually, though, the Christmas feeling evolves as we grow older. Every once in a while, I find myself attempting to conjure those same cozy, warm, nostalgic Christmas feelings that once came so effortlessly. Like, if I just stare intently at some well-done Christmas lights long enough, things will feel carefree and magical again. But even when I do remember what it felt like, it’s not the same as actually feeling that way again.

There was a time where this “loss” of Christmas magic was so discouraging to me, but this year it’s a bit different. You see, we didn’t grow up celebrating Advent; we simply were celebrating Christmas all of December — and there is a difference.

The way Christmas is celebrated in the US is as though every day of November and December is itself Christmas day. It’s a months-long celebration of the birth of the Messiah. But that is not how Advent is traditionally celebrated.

Growing up nondenominational, this has been new information to me in the last couple years, but Advent is a time of spiritual preparation, repentance, and longing for a Savior to come. It is not a time to party; it is a time to reflect and prepare for the coming King as we acknowledge how desperately we need him.

My whole understanding of Christmas as a child was built on selfishness — what I was going to get out of it on Christmas morning. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Kids are selfish. But as Paul reminds us, we must be sure that we continue to “grow up” in our faith, which means everything I know about Christmas needs to “grow up,” as well. Anticipation over what gifts I’m going to get doesn’t cut it anymore.

Advent offers us something far deeper and richer and stronger. It looks out at a waiting world and recognizes how broken it is. Not only spiritually but physically. Every day we are confronted — sometimes against our will — with global and national tragedies, but even within our own communities we are faced with the deaths and diagnoses of friends and families. We wrestle with grief and confusion while we sing our Christmas carols, and we wonder, “Am I doing this wrong? If joy has come to this world, why is there so much sorrow?”

And I would argue that the question itself reveals that we have missed what Advent — what the Father — is trying to teach us. Joy has come because there is so much sorrow. The joy comes in the midst of the pain not so you can pretend that the pain doesn’t exist, but so you can rejoice in knowing it can no longer win. The sorrow we know today cannot last forever. It can no longer destroy us.

Advent has taught me that hope, peace, joy, and love have come to earth in the most humble, unlikely, and impractical of ways: as one of us. He has seen our affliction, he has heard our cries, he has known our suffering, and he has borne our wounds, bringing with him light and life to all in a dark and weary land.

In Advent — in these cold, dark, dreary months — all of creation lies in wait, waiting, longing, hoping, for life, for rescue, for restoration. And on Christmas, the Father does something new. After hundreds of years, the time has come, and he does the newest thing possible: he sends a baby, born of a poor virgin, to a small, powerless village, to a worn out, oppressed people, whom he has chosen for himself. In the birth of Jesus, he says to us, “Not only are you mine, but I am yours.” He gives us his very heart, and with it, all creation bursts forth with songs of joy because “the Lord has come.” Immanuel. God is with us.

In these final days before Christmas, I pray you wouldn’t spend your time trying to conjure up feelings of magic and nostalgia. Instead, I pray you feel the longing for something new, in the world and in yourself. I pray you feel it fully, without fear, but with the confident hope that the King is on his way, for you and for me, for freedom, for peace. And on Christmas day, I hope you sing “Joy to the World” at the top of your lungs because you have known the sorrow, just as our Savior has, and now, “Behold, the people walking in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2).

Wishing you the merriest of Christmases,
Amber

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” - Julian of Norwich

I used to be smart.

Not, like, abnormally smart but smart enough. I did well in school, graduated high school and college with high honors, read books and thought a lot about things that interested me. 

Now, I scroll through Instagram reels. 

I used to stay up until 4 a.m. reading. I couldn’t put books down.

Now, I have to force myself to read a chapter. What I don’t have to force? Scrolling Reddit posts. 

I used to sit in coffee shops for 3 hours on the weekends studying scripture.

Now, it takes every ounce of discipline I have to sit and read a chapter of Romans. 

I used to have a brain, I think. Now, I’m not so sure. 

I could play dumb if I wanted and act like I have no idea what happened. Like my life is just too busy now and that’s why I can’t eat a meal without a screen in front of me. But that would be a lie. I know what happened. We all do.

I got my first smartphone when I was fifteen. I was the last of my friends to get an iPhone, and that Christmas of my sophomore year of high school I begged and begged my parents for one. I wasn’t sure I would get one, but they came through. I was so excited. Finally, I thought. 

We didn’t know then what we know now, but I think if I could go back, I would do everything I could to stop myself from opening that gift.

It was a slow fade at first—as these things so often are—and then all at once, my phone replaced my brain. And I let it happen. I gave it a free pass when I stopped thinking for myself and let anything else, especially my phone, start thinking for me. 

I know that by this point you’ve already heard it, and I’m sure that you’re rolling your eyes because you’re tired of hearing it, but I simply must remind you that your phone is no longer a device. It is an addiction, and you have a problem. I know because I have a problem, too. We all do, and I so badly want to raise kids who don’t. But how am I supposed to do that if every day all I’m modeling for them is how desperately I need my phone?

We have all discipled ourselves into needing our phones with us at all times. If you’re anything like me, your day is filled with constant noise: podcasts and videos and Instagram stories—talking, talking, talking. Some of it is beneficial, but I don’t need it. I’ve just convinced myself I do. 

I can nearly guarantee that your phone is less of an asset and more of a burden to you. It takes and takes and steals and steals. It fills you with anxiety and comparison and grief and weariness, and it gives you nothing of worth besides a few cleaning hacks every once in a while. 

I’m imploring you and myself: It’s not worth it. 

I want to be in tune with the Holy Spirit. I want to sit with him and dwell in his presence for more than three minutes at a time. I want to memorize scripture. I want to hear his still, small voice when he speaks. And with my phone next to me, I can’t do any of those things. 

I’m finally realizing that if I continue at the rate I’m currently going, I will look back when I’m 80 and discover that I gave my whole life to an idol that stole not only my brain but my soul. 

It’s not dramatic to say anymore. The data is here, and we should all be concerned. 

If you’re like me, then you’ve been being shaped and molded by social media for over a decade. It’s going to take more than easily-evaded time limits to break the addiction you’ve built. It will be a daily, and then life-long battle. One in which you wake up every day and say, “My phone cannot have my life.” You will have to deny yourself and choose to be bored, to feel left out, to listen to silence and your own thoughts. It will be scary. But for freedom you have been set free, and there is certainly freedom on the other side. 

Here are three things you can start doing today (that I’ve been doing, too) to fight back:

1. The landline method.

If you’re chronically online, then you probably already know about this one. Choose a spot in your house for your phone to live, preferably a place that is out of your usual reach. Mine is on my dining room table. That is now your phone’s permanent residence. If you want to check it for messages or look something up or scroll, that’s fine, but you have to stand there while you do it and put it back when you’re done. Much less fun. Very effective. 

2. Stop taking it to the bathroom with you. 

Just sit there. Think your thoughts. Reflect on your day. Make a to-do list. List out some things you’re grateful for. Take a few deep breaths. Pray. Practice scripture memory. I’m not joking. If you’re serious about breaking the addiction, you have to replace the time you spent scrolling with something else. Thinking is a good start. You have beautiful, creative thoughts to think. Give yourself the time and space to think them. 

3. Turn it off and leave your house without it.

I know, I know: but what if there’s an emergency?? I can almost promise there won’t be. And on the very off chance you do get into an accident or something, guess who has a phone you could borrow? Everyone else. A very small chance that you’ll need your phone for an emergency is not a good enough reason to let your phone keep stealing from you. The second you leave your house without your phone, whatever you’re doing immediately becomes an adventure. You’re like Bilbo on his way to the Lonely Mountain—anything could happen! And you get to experience it fully, the way you were made to. 

A few final thoughts: the Lord has promised to always provide a way out of temptation (1 Cor. 10:13). It will be tempting to keep doing what you’ve always done, but if you want to be free, he will provide the strength you need to fight. 

Second, there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ (Rom. 8:1). There is no room or reason for shame. Just acknowledge what is true for all of us—that we’re all addicted—and move forward. 

I am walking out this process with you, and I am doing it so imperfectly. There are days when I am so mean to myself for being on my phone. That is not the goal, and I have to reorient, turn it off, and ask the Lord for more strength because I don’t have enough. I never will. But he is for me, and he has set me free. 

He wants you to be free, too. To experience the beautiful, glorious, good life he has planned for you. A life of wonder and joy and hope and peace. It is there for you, specifically, if you can just look up and live it. 

I’m praying for you, my friends, and so is Jesus. 

In the last two weeks, I’ve stared at the sky more than I have since I was a kid.

Unsurprisingly, I read a lot of books as a kid. Nancy Drew and Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and the Saddle Club. We lived outside of city limits, so the first time I visited the local library I was in elementary school. I remember the wonder I felt as I walked among the stacks of dusty books—some of which probably hadn’t been disturbed in years. 

I loved the feeling of being swept away by a story. I was a time traveler, being transported to faraway times and places—sailing on pirate ships, riding horses bareback through grassy meadows, wandering through the woods of Narnia. I don’t think there’s anything quite like the magic of reading as a child. 

One of my favorite places to read was outside. I remember laying in the grass in our front yard for hours, lost in books. Between chapters, I would pause and look up—a radiant blue sky and the fluffiest clouds drifting lazily by. I’d stare and stare, mystified by how the sky could possibly be so wide and feel so all-encompassing yet so far away. It’s hard for me to put to words what I feel—what I’ve always felt—when I look up at the sky. I look up, and I feel. That’s all I know.

Since those days of reading outside, I’ve spent far more time with ceilings over my head than clouds. Usually, they were school buildings. My elementary school, high school, and finally, college. There’s been a lot less laying in the grass than I’d like—something I’d like to be different for my kids someday. 

But in the last few weeks, that has changed. The Midwest summer has finally emerged once more, and this time I have an eight-month-old. He loves to be outside more than almost anything, and it’s my go-to move anytime he’s even remotely upset. We’re averaging about three hours a day outside right now, a number I’d like to increase as he gets older. 

But since he’s still so young, there’s not much to do once we’re outside. He watches the birds and the cars as they drive by. He picks the grass, attempts to eat it, and digs his tiny fingernails in the dirt. To him, it is all enthralling. For me, I get a little bored. Usually, I end up laying down and looking up. 

And despite being 27, despite having my baby right next to me, despite now being the “owner” of the grass I’m laying in, I’m always immediately nine-years-old again. That feeling rushes over me as I look to the heavens. I am small and full of wonder and mystery and magic. Anything is possible and the world is so big and hopeful and the things I’m worried about suddenly seem so insignificant in comparison to the vastness of blue above me. 

I don’t think I’ve ever asked anyone else if they get that feeling, too, when they look up, so maybe it’s just me, but I have a feeling it’s not. Why else would humans scale mountains and paint sunsets and ride in hot air balloons? It is that feeling of wonder, of vastness that drives us, connects us to creation and the Creator himself. 

I think it is innate, this connection to the sky, and I think it was intentionally placed in us by God as a part of what it means to be made in his image. As Creator, our God loves beautiful things, so it is no surprise that his image bearers—his idols—would be so enamored with beautiful things, too.

It’s not simply the beauty that stops me in my tracks, though. It is the scope of the sky. Even the view from my tiny backyard in town leaves me with a sense that I am so very small and God is so unbelievably big. But not in a way that frightens me. Rather, in a way that comforts me and makes me feel safe. When I look up at the clouds, I am reminded that if my God can take care of all this, surely he can and will take care of me, too. 

I think the psalmists would relate to this experience I’m trying so hard to describe, for they put it far better than I ever could:

“I lift my eyes toward the mountains. 
Where will my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, 
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to slip; 
your Protector will not slumber.
Indeed, the Protector of Israel 
does not slumber or sleep.”
Psalm 121:1-4

I think there is a spiritual significance to looking up. It humbles us, centers us, grounds us in the truth of what we know: 

“To whom will you compare me,
or who is my equal?” asks the Holy One.
Look up and see!
Who created these?
He brings out the stars by number;
he calls all of them by name.
Because of his great power and strength,
not one of them is missing.”
Isaiah 40:25-26

We look up, and we know that it is all his, including us. 

There is so much looking down in our lives. All day, I look down at my computer as I work. And then when I’m done working, I look down at my phone, for no reason at all other than it’s there. How many hours do I spend looking down in a day? I don’t want to know. 

Looking down makes us the largest thing we see. It makes ourselves the center of our perception, and it skews everything else in relation to us.

Looking up reveals what is real and true—that we are not the biggest, we are not the center of it all. The sky shows me that I am small, but it also tells me that I belong to something, that I am cared for, that I am a creation, not a robot. 

I belong to a Creator who loves to make beautiful things. So when the fear and anxiety come chasing after me once more, I can look up, remember, and know.

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