If you are responsible for planning the Bible study plan of your church, your class, your children - here’s something to think about.

If a person (or church body) is showing signs of Biblical illiteracy, a plan that flies through a lot of Scripture in one week might not be a great route to go. And “a lot of Scripture” can be one chapter even, it doesn’t necessarily mean ten chapters or a whole book. Remember that the Bible is a book of ancient documents, written in different cultures, originally in three different languages--it’s hard to understand. It takes time to work through and get to the meaning of things; it takes labor.

If we choose studies that move too quickly through big chunks of Scripture, those we’re leading are often forced to do nothing more than just “read” the text and move on--there’s little time for else. They end up simply being “exposed” to the text, rather than truly growing in their knowledge of it, getting it in and under their skin, and being transformed by it.

When we take smaller passages and give our people the time and space to really linger, dig deep, search out answers, they’re able to wring the verses for everything they’re worth—and the Word always does what the Word does. In my experience, this is where we see lasting transformation, genuine passion, and a contagious, joyful hunger for the Word start to bubble up. If you want to guard your Bible study from fizzling out—give people the tools and time to feast, not just pick at their plates.

There are few decisions we make for our flock/disciples more important than how we lead and teach them through the Bible. There really are some study methods that are more effective + fruitful than others; it does matter.

Consider a method that helps you labor over the text.
Consider a pace that allows you to come out on the other side knowing God better.

“Many read the Scriptures as a task or a burden, to say they have done it. But to read with understanding and to labor for the sweet kernel within the hard shell—this is where the life of the Word is found. Dig deep; the surface gold is little compared to the mine beneath.” -Jeremiah Burroughs

Check out Wondrous Things Ministries Resources here.
Shop Wondrous Things studies here.

Follow Wondrous Things Ministries on Facebook!

For months, a lot of “Wondrous Things” energy has gone into our “Wondrous Things Publishing” branch. A few weeks ago, we finally successfully sent the first Wondrous Things children’s novel out into the world. Hopefully it will be the first of many books we put out to bring something good, beautiful, and true to bookstore, library, and family shelves.

When the dust settled from the book launch, we had to sit down and take some inventory. “Do we still have the energy/desire/means to move forward with our original vision for Wondrous Things Ministries?”

We’d said from the beginning, Wondrous Things Ministries would “exist to inspire and equip women and families to engage deeply with the Bible, and foster biblical and theological literacy for a richer, more grounded faith.”

Despite being ready for a big long break and a whole lot of doing nothing for a while, I personally had to ask myself - do I still care about moving that mission forward? Am I passionate enough about it to keep going?

It was a silly question.

I love this gig.
I love, love the Bible.
And I love, love, love the idea of having some part in other people coming to know God better.

So do I still really care about inspiring people to read the Word?
Do I still really care about helping resource women and families to study the Bible well?

I do. I care a lot.

So onward we go. We’ve already revamped an old product, finished a new one, and started moving others forward. Hit us up if you’re on a Bible journey and want someone to walk alongside you.

We’re here.

Xoxo,
Jess

He did initially invite His disciples to follow Him in these accounts, however, it’s actually in Luke 6:12-16 where Jesus officially selects His twelve from a much larger group of disciples. All of them were following Him, but here, He sets apart a particular dozen:

“And when day came, he called his disciples and chose from them twelve, whom he named his apostles: Simon, whom he named Peter, and Andrew his brother, and James and John, and Philip, and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James the son of Alphaeus, and Simon who was called the Zealot, and Judas the son of James and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.” (Luke 6:12-16)

After selecting his twelve apostles, they came down from the mountain they’d been on to meet a great crowd of more disciples and also a multitude of people from Judea and Jerusalem and beyond who had come to hear Jesus and be healed by Him. In a very powerful, incredibly public moment, Jesus does heal them. We’re told in verses 18-19 that power came out from Him, and “he healed them all.”

It’s hard to imagine the impact this display would have had on each individual soul there—and we’re told there was a “great multitude”—but to put it lightly I’m sure, Jesus would have had their attention.

It’s at this point, we’re told He lifts up his eyes on his disciples, and He begins to tell them what this new Kingdom they’re building (and personally living out) is supposed to look like. In the famous “Beatitudes,” Jesus paints a picture of blessings for those who choose to live for the eternal Kingdom, and issues a series of woes for those who choose to live for the world and their life “now.”

Then, He goes on to further turn the world upsidedown by issuing His new soldiers some of the most challenging marching orders they’d ever receive: Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who abuse you. (6:27-28)
He goes on to teach them to refrain from vengeance, to give freely to those who ask much of you, and whatever you wish others would do to you, “do so to them.”

He cracks it open and scoops out the insides of that teaching then, explaining to them the difference between this impossible new Kingdom love and the way the world has pitifully loved forever: “If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them…But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.” (Luke 6:32-35)

It’s an impossible, shocking new way of life He’s commissioning them to go out and live, and then He twists the Sword in Luke 6:37-38. Not only has He commanded them to be kind to the ungrateful and the evil, but here, the disciples are told they aren’t even allowed to judge them.

“Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.” (Luke 6:37-38)

It’s all of this in Luke Chapter 6 that leads up to Jesus’ parable of the blind leading the blind. It’s right on the heels of laying out this blueprint for the Kingdom life, the disciple’s heart—all this love your enemies, give when it hurts, and forgive when you don’t want to—where He asks them the question:

“Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit?” (6:39)

Why? Why does Jesus ask this question after everything that’s just transpired? After everything He just taught them?

The answer is in the next verse:

“A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher.” (6:40)

As He’s getting ready to send this enormous crowd of people out into the world—hopefully to make disciples—He is reminding them, your disciples are going to be like you.

Whoever you are shaping with your teachings, whether that be a neighbor, someone in your church, a friend, or your child, they are not going to magically come out handling things well where they saw you routinely handle things poorly. They are not likely to behave in a godly manner in spaces where they saw you behave in an ungodly manner, and they are not likely to love their enemies, give freely, or refrain from vengeance or judgment if they watched you do the very opposite day in and day out as they walked with you.

Everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher.

Jesus is telling His disciples, you have to actually live like this, or you will lead your disciples astray. They’ll follow you right into the pit. Look at the next verses:

“Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your own eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.” (Luke 6:41-42)

We mistakenly read the “judge not” and “take the log out” verses as if they are their own stand-alone little section about not being judgmental hypocrites; but the context within which Jesus gives us these passages is discipleship. He’s sending people out and He’s telling them how to live like Kingdom people, and then He’s telling them, by the way—you have to actually live like this if you want your disciples to be whole and healthy; they’re going to do what they see you do.

Jesus is baking Kingdom-mindedness into these disciples before they try to go out and teach others about the Kingdom. If they can’t, at the very least, love and forgive people like Jesus commands them to love and forgive, they will be like the blind leading the blind. They will unintentionally teach new disciples that there’s a Kingdom where you can follow Christ while still only “loving” like the world loves, while only giving when you can get something in return, and while only being kind and merciful to those who are like you or struggle in ways you’ve personally deemed “forgivable.”

Real Kingdom love runs deeper than this. It’s much harder to live out, much more difficult to model consistently—and infinitely more transformational than its empty, worldly counterpart.

Our children (students, friends, neighbors, disciples) will probably not magically pop out on the other end of their time with us holding their tongue where we have let ours run. They probably won’t spend themselves freely where we’ve made a big fuss about being inconvenienced, and it’s not likely they’ll spend their drives home after church praying for someone who offended them if they spent years of car rides listening to their parents/disciplers judge the body up and down or watched them hold on to long-term, bitter grudges.

Hard-hearted disciplers will churn out hard-hearted disciples. We can’t fake or force good discipleship. Our students will be like us—the real us.

I found this to be such a sobering exhortation to tend to my heart with the word. Luke 6:45 says “for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks,” and I’ve got at least three little souls listening very closely to how I speak. I’m shaping them with every step I take, every word I say; they’re following me.

Am I expecting them to behave in ways that I don’t consistently behave?
Do I hope they’ll somehow gain disciplines that I’ve never modeled for them?

“A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher.” (Luke 6:40)

I’ve got headphones on and I don’t realize how loud I’m singing till I take them off and my voice echoes through the upstairs hall; I realize the cleaning is taking me twice the time it should because I’m dancing too much.

Today feels like the first real day of being “over the hump” of all that had been looming ahead for so long. It felt amazing to get my book done, but then I still had to launch the thing.

Today, it’s out there;
and life goes on here at home.

I have three thoughts, as I sit in a quiet house with “the hardest part” behind me, and a week of peace and family and quiet ahead.

One, thank you, to those of you who are still here, for being patient with me as a Substack writer. It is so hard to eke out any other words when so many are getting poured into a big book. Thank you for the support along the way, even when I couldn’t muster up much else to say here.

Two, rest can be found no place other than in Christ--not even in success.

Now on the other side of completing something so big and important to me, I am actually itching to put down in writing someplace that even when things go really really well, there’s nothing like rest in a heavenly Father who does not make you work for His approval, who is not fickle or temperamental, who does not change.

Despite how overwhelmingly thankful and pleased I am at how well things went for my book release week, it requires a vulnerability that is so exhausting. To put your work out there, to ask people to buy it, to hope that they like it.. to deal with people and businesses and vendors and so on - it can all add up. How many times I found myself closing my door in the quiet, flopping on my bed and closing my eyes to the thought: Jessica, your Father could not love you more. You have all the approval you could ever need or want, already, in Christ.

Nothing stacks up against it.
In fact, a million stacks of pre-sold books could not stack up against it,
it’s not even close.

And finally, my third thought builds off the second, and has to do with a Leonard Ravenhill quote I kept on my desk the entire time I was writing. It says: “I made up my mind fifty years ago that no one would flatter me and no one would flatten me. We are all unprofitable servants—there is so much we don’t know,” and I’m slowly training my heart to believe this too.

Compliments are fun but they are fleeting, and neither criticism nor critique should ever be able to flatten a child who finds their identity in the King of Heaven and Earth. This encourages me when I sense the Lord has called me to some work that requires me to put myself out there: It’s Him I want to please.
All the rest of it is dust and vapor.

Thank you again for all your patience and support. I look forward to writing here from a more restful place in the near future ❤️

If you missed my book and want to get a copy, it’s available at Neighborhood Reads in Washington, MO, and also available in both hardcover and softcopy on Amazon.

Xoxo,
Jess


Order Where the Green Train Goes:
On Amazon
At Neighborhood Reads

I leaned on the windowsill and I pressed my face against the screen, as I often do, and I watched a single car slosh through puddles in the road and disappear up past the stoplight, its blinker flashing red. The wind carried some new spring scent—some fragrant fruit or flower, and the neighbor’s windchimes whirled and clinked over on their porch across the yard.
Everything was soft, sweet, stirring, lovely.
I closed my eyes and thought of God, omnipresent. Present everywhere I looked; close.

Across the hall, in my dark office, I could just barely make out the silhouette of a daunting pile on my desk, moonlight on the stacks of white papers and marked up folders.

A lot of work ahead of me.

For as long as I’ve been working on my middle grade fiction novel, I’ve also been working on a deep study of the book of Luke.

Nearly three years in, and I find myself barely breaching Chapter 8.

Mind you, this is the study of my dreams. I’m on no one else’s time table, no clock or deadline nipping at my heels, and I’m indulging all my deep-study whims. Everything that I want to look up, I do. Every map I want to see, every reference I want to cross, every sideroad I want to travel down, I do. It’s the kind of study where you soak, not sprint, and I’ve been happily lapping it all up for literal years now, I guess.

In the last twelve weeks or so heading toward my book deadline, however, I paused this deep study of Luke and instead spent some time here and there and everywhere—in Deuteronomy, Romans, and little pockets of Colossians.

Now, as I wrap up my novel and get ready to send it out into the world, it’s time to dive back into Luke, and I’ve found myself in a pickle.

I need to start in Luke Chapter 8, but I now have about 300+ pages of notes accrued from the previous chapters—and I realized I can’t remember half of it.
What was it I loved so much about Mary’s Magnificat in Chapter One? What was all that research I did on Caesar Augustus in Chapter Two…where did I put that? Where are those fantastic JC Ryle quotes about twelve-year-old Jesus at the temple, and what was it I told my kids about it that day in October, and oh, look at all these examples of Christ’s authority in chapters four through seven, goodness gracious!

It would be most convenient if I had the type of brain that could just take a quick gander at whatever notes I have most handy and keep it moving—but alas, I’m not built that way lol. My husband will be the first to tell you: when I want to clean the kitchen, I find myself first purging the storage room down in the basement and deep cleaning every closet in the house, and when I want to start Chapter 8 of the book of Luke, I find myself wanting to first comb through all 300 pages of notes from chapters one through seven.

As a teacher, I’m big on cumulative review. “Why would we move on if we don’t really know it yet?” I’m always asking.

I don’t like dropping down into the middle of something and stumbling my way forward without getting my bearings on where I am and why. I want to understand, not just move through a text and check boxes.

So, hot on the heels of wrapping up a 600-page book project, I am beginning the work of compiling three years of Bible notes all into one organized place. I’ve got piles and piles of thin stapled packets of verse-by-verse lessons I wrote on small sections, like Luke 1:26-38, or Luke 6:20-26. I have folders stuffed with poorly drawn maps, notes I wrote as I passed Luke lessons onto my kids, journals where Luke notes bled into my diary, and stuffed, sloppy, Study Well notebooks crammed with sticky notes, pages taped into the covers, and scrawling notes in every margin.

The hard, but obvious next thing (for me) to do, is to work through all my notes, compile them, get my bearings, carefully organize and review what God was already teaching me, and then happily pick up where I left off.

But the question I keep asking, if I’m honest, is:
is this a big unnecessary waste of time?

The short answer I’ve come to, is no.

Here’s the longer answer:

1. This process is one that Luke, the author of the book I’m studying, did himself.

“Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative
of the things that have been accomplished among us…
it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past,
to write an orderly account for you…” (Luke 1:1-3)

Luke didn’t write his gospel from a sudden burst of memory; he was a researcher.
He went around collecting fragments, interviewing eyewitnesses, gathering scraps of accounts, and then compiled them into an orderly account so that his reader(s) could have certainty and clarity.

I take heart in the notion that I’m stepping into the same methodology of the author I’m studying. I’m gathering the scattered fragments of three years of study, insight, and research, and turning them into an orderly account.

2. Great thinkers, writers, and theologians have done this work throughout history.

For centuries, some of the greatest minds the world has seen kept something called “commonplace books.” A commonplace book was essentially a custom-built, single, dedicated volume where these writers and thinkers would compile all their scattered fragments of wisdom—from poetry and historical research to theological notes. They would manually transcribe quotes, cross-references, and critiques into one central, organized, lifelong reference.

Jonathan Edwards famously kept a “Miscellanies” notebook where he meticulously numbered and cross-referenced every theological thought he had over decades. According to those close to him, when he would go on long horseback rides to meditate, he would pin small scraps of written notes to his coat so he wouldn’t lose or later forget them. Then, when he’d return home, his family had to literally “unpin” him—meaning, they’d remove all the notes and scraps of insights—so his coat could be hung up and he could transfer all his thoughts to his master notebook.

For Edwards, this wasn’t an academic chore; it was a joy. Later in his life he wrote, "My method of study, from my first beginning the work of the ministry, has been very much by writing… The longer I prosecuted my studies in this method, the more habitual it became, and the more pleasant and profitable I found it."¹

We can only assume that this was tedious and painstaking work—but what an incredible gift and resource it proved to be for the Church.

3. The Bible is worth actually laboring over.

We are perpetually sold a version of Bible study that is neat and quick. “Fill your cup in fifteen minutes.” You’re given this permission slip on the regular, so you don’t need it from me.

Instead, I’m happy to remind you any time you like that renewing the mind is a lifelong, sometimes tedious, labor of love.

Deep study is slow.
It takes years. It can be frustrating, hard, and overwhelming. It gets interrupted and has to be faithfully picked back up. There’s no fast-track through it, no short-cut; only careful, messy, plodding, holy work.

In a world of drive-thru quiet time culture, I’m finding so much life and power in approaching my Bible study with a long-term-soak-it-up-wring-it-for-all-its-worth mindset. We don’t have to fly through the Scriptures, only to be briefly “exposed” to them; we can live in them. We can set up camp, make them our habitation, learn them, know them, love them.

We can’t possibly remind ourselves of this enough: Christ is the Word.

Study in such a way that your notes read more like love letters;
they should feel like moments with a Person.

You have enough voices telling you “Bible study doesn’t have to be that serious.”
I’m here to say, “It could be, though.”
Bible study doesn’t have to be that serious, but it could be though, and it will bless and change you more than you can actually even imagine right now.

So I’ll be here for a while, in this Luke work.
Every day I work on reading through the whole entire Bible over and over—a quicker “washing” of the Word method—but it’s in Luke I’ll be digging this deep well.

"We must read our Bibles like men digging for gold... Gold does not lie on the very surface of the ground. He who would find it must dig deep and work hard. Even so, we must not expect to find the deep things of God without diligent searching and labor."
-J.C. Ryle

NOTES:
1. Jonathan Edwards Studies

Today we make our big, bulk order of Where the Green Train Goes—which will take a month to get here—so whatever copies have been ordered by end of day is the number we will base that order off of.

Thank you to everyone who made an order. We can’t wait to see you at the party and hear what you think of this story.

For those hoping to come to the Launch Party, remember your purchased book copy is your ticket; make sure you’ve made your order. I’m still running into friends who are saying, “I’ve still got to order the book!” —which I love hearing lol,

but today’s the day! I don’t want anyone to miss out on the release, or the party, because today slipped by and they forgot to order.

We’re moving now into ultra party-planning mode.

We have the perfect venue secured (The Post, New Haven, MO), random, colorful boxes of decor getting dropped off at our house every day, and the weirdest, most delicious little menu you can imagine. Chocolate-Covered Battle Beetles anyone?

A quick note for any of you who might have mistakenly snagged a copy off Amazon some how or another - that is not actually my real, current, finished book. That’s a glitchy Amazon thing going on, and is an old manuscript, old illustrations. My book, as we’ve been advertising, doesn’t release until July 18, and the only place to buy it is www.wherethegreentraingoes.com.

At some point my book will be on Amazon, but it will be a while—so don’t wait to get your copy there if you’re wanting one!

For me, “finishing” this book has felt very much like a multistep process.

Finishing the outline, finishing my first draft, second draft, third,

finishing the illustrations, finishing edits, and then more edits.

But I guess after tonight, when the order has been placed, there’s nothing else to be done. Where the Green Train Goes is finally, actually finished.

And as our website countdown clock tells us: only 45 days until this story will be in your hands.

It’s getting so close.

“The Bonneclaire children held onto their armrests and watched wide-eyed out the window as a flash of color--dark green and white light--exploded outside and the train lurched forward again, this time zigging hard one way and then zagging hard the other. It dipped down a slope and came up,

dipped down a slope and came up,

and then, after a series of impossible arcs, swirls, and twirls, the train plunged down into another underground tunnel--the final stretch of its Chronal Surge...”

Order your book here:

https://www.wherethegreentraingoes.com/

Ahem.

1. Today is technically the deadline, lol.
   So there is that.

   
   As posted on my Facebook page:
   
   Our book copies will take about a month or so to come in once we order them, so we will need to make our order soon. That means, in order to have enough copies for the launch, we have to guess how many books you all will order before then. The best way to make the best guess is to take pre-orders so we can have solid numbers to go off of.

   
   To ensure you absolutely positively get your copy on launch day, order your book today.
   
   We will be ordering extra copies and will have them available for sale the night of the launch party as well, but these will be first come, first serve; when they’re gone they’re gone. Those who place their orders now will be guaranteed their copy on release day.

   Order here:
   https://www.wherethegreentraingoes.com/

2. This is reason number two.
   Just this.

3. For your middle grade reader, this book contains elements of mystery, whimsy, mechanics, action, cooking, inventing, fantasy, entrepreneurship, building, exploring, eating (weird delicious foods), steampunk, a new, exciting, fictional sport, small town coziness, nostalgia, and real world local references like Washington, New Haven, and Hermann, Missouri…kind of lol. If Washwick, Old Haven, and Hermannheffle count as local references.
   
   

4. Here is a list of some of my favorite words from the book to pique your curiosity:

   
   Jigglepin
   Magniclicker Glass
   Wobbleclamp
   Fizzleplug
   Addaclack
   Razzlehoney Pricklefudge
   Flitterzippet
   Gizzlegourd
   Frictionforkel
   Pattermelon
   Mochafudge Butterblob
   Pasta-Putterering Noodle Schwoodle
   Crangledriver
   Huckleberry Slush
   Oozleberry Snap Bar
   

5. And last but not least: I can’t keep talking about this book everyday lol.
   There is definitely a sense in which I need to be a good steward of all the time and resources my family and I have put into this book, and so I need to make sure I really try to get it out there.
   
   But also, marketing your own work is the worst gig imaginable lol. I’M NOT ABOUT THIS LIFE. After a month of hitting it pretty hard on the socials, there’s a big part of me that also just figures at this point if you want it, you’ll get it, if you don’t, you won’t lol. Follow me for more amazing marketing tips like these.

   
   

   We’re planning the most amazing in-person launch party at an incredible old brick building in downtown Washington, and we have whirly balloons and stars and Sun-fizzle and candles and hot air balloons and huge cardboard cut-outs of Old Haven buildings and samples of Old Haven foods, and I’m even writing an Old Haven soundtrack, so of course I want everyone I know (and don’t know) to be there.
   
   And that includes you.

So I hope you grab a copy of the book today,
and I hope you join us at the launch party.

I’ll totally save you a square of Razzlehoney Pricklefudge
and we can cheers a glass of Sun-Fizzle.

See you soon! (Hopefully)

wherethegreentraingoes.com

XOXO,
Jess

2
W.O.H.L.A.P.P.M.O.

Two blocks over from the library, at 808 Schmembleton Street, the three Bonneclaire children sat on stiff, plastic chairs in a drab brown office. A single fly flew in erratic circles near the ceiling, buzzing and bumping into the fluorescent lights overhead. A glug, glug sound came from the water cooler in the corner, and the clock on the wall ticked impossibly loud. The Bonneclaires’ father, Mr. Jude Bonneclaire, whistled at his desk.

Luke Bonneclaire, who was thirteen years old and had just recently grown six inches taller, stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned his head back against his chair. His brother Sebastian (Bash), age ten, sat perfectly straight, with his big brown eyes trained on the buzzing fly on the ceiling, and Ruby, the youngest Bonneclaire sibling at eight years old, curled her legs up in her chair and watched the raindrops trickle down the big office window behind her.

“How long do we have to sit out here?” she whispered to Luke.

“Till it’s time to catch our train,” he answered without looking at her.

She sighed and looked back out the window.

Suddenly, the door to the back office opened just enough for Ms. Perk to stick her head in. Beams of emerald and sapphire blue light flashed across the ceiling and briefly lit the children’s faces aglow. Through the crack in the door came the murmur of many busy voices, the squawk of a bird, and the smell of chocolate coffee. Luke, Bash, and Ruby grinned at each other.

Ms. Perk quickly thrust a neat stack of papers out toward Mr. Bonneclaire. “Is Marie here yet?” she asked.

“Should be any minute,” Mr. Bonneclaire answered, tucking the stack of papers into a folder.

Ms. Perk glanced at the clock, nodded, and shut the door.

✨ Order your book here: https://www.wherethegreentraingoes.com/

It was only moments later when the shadowy silhouette of a woman carrying an umbrella appeared outside, and a bell jingled over the front door as it opened. A gust of cold rainy wind swept through the office as Mrs. Marie Bonneclaire, the town librarian, gave her umbrella a brisk shake before stepping inside.

“There she is,” Mr. Bonneclaire beamed.

The woman, who wore ruby-red lipstick and had her dark brown hair swept into a bun, loosened the belt on her long tan coat and smiled brightly at her husband before cupping the face of each of her children and kissing them on top of the head.

“Are you having the most dreadful, drab time in this most dreadful, drab place?” she winked at them.

The children giggled and smiled knowingly at her. She fixed the collar of Bash’s dark coat where a bit of bright red peeked through from underneath. She fastened his top button, covered the red entirely, and tousled his hair. “Don’t worry, my dears,” she said. “I’ve just gotten word that the train is actually right on schedule this evening.”

Mr. Bonneclaire rose to meet her beside his desk and he kissed her squarely on the cheek. “Hello, love,” he smiled. “How was your day?”

Marie took her gloves off and laid them on his desk. “My day was eventful, as you know,” she said with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, I heard. Ms. Perk said there were two sightings reported at Junction 3.” He handed Marie the folder of papers. “She needs your approval to run the cover stories.”

Marie took a deep breath, slid off her coat, and smoothed out her dress underneath. “Well, I suppose I should get back there then.”

***

It was an hour later before Marie emerged from the back office again. “Jude, honey, can you get me the telephone number of that policeman in Hermanheffle we spoke with last week? There’s been a sighting over there; I need to smooth it over with him,” she said.

“Of course,” he answered. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small black book full of phone numbers.

Marie opened the back office door even wider while she waited. “Children, if the train’s been seen over in Hermanheffle, it won’t be long,” she called. “I’ll have Ms. Perk fetch your bags.”

Luke, Bash, and Ruby all sat up in their seats and craned their necks for a rare view into the back office.

Lights danced across its black and white striped walls and over the red, orange, and green velvet chairs where staff members sat at their desks frantically typing away and answering phones. A model green train on a wooden track chugged past the aquarium of patterned fish, the enormous clock with streams of colored sand swirling down its center, and it looped around the long glass tubes where mail and messages shot back and forth across the room. A gold-framed picture of a giraffe wearing socks up to its knees hung on the back wall, and a rolling mechanical broom contraption whirled past the door sweeping up a pile of dust and bird feathers.

The Bonneclaire children leaned forward and watched in awe, breathing in the sweet steam and chocolatey coffee smell.

If it weren’t so late at night, of course, their mother would never stand with the door wide open like that. Why, if someone were to pass by outside, that wild, colorful backroom would do the exact thing this particular office was designed to avoid: draw attention.

***

The Office of Regional Infrastructure Utilization Forecasting and Snerggle-Planning located at 808 Schmembleton Street was exactly the kind of tedious, humdrum, muted place no one would notice, and that was exactly the way they wanted it.

The entire building—from its location, to its color, to the very teeny tiny sign that advertised its very made-up business name—was a masterpiece of camouflage. No one ever noticed the dull brown office front, and when they did, they hardly ever took the time to read the long name posted on its sign. If, by chance, they did read the name posted on its sign, they would inevitably ignore the first eight words of the title and focus solely on the “Snerggle-Planning” portion. Since no one knew what a Snerggle was, they were not sure they needed their Snerggle planned, and thus, no one ever called the listed business number.

On the rare occasion that someone did accidentally wander into the office during “business hours,” they would only find Mr. Bonneclaire at his desk, dressed in his ill-fitting, plain brown suit, and sensible, cheap brown shoes, working quietly on his Click-Clackulator—which was neither a computer nor a calculator—and they would turn right around and leave.

No one ever asked to see the back room, which, over time, the staff had morphed into a bustling, bursting little slice of Old Haven. No one ever noticed that the inside of Mr. Bonneclaire’s suit was shimmering lime-green silk with magenta stripes, or that his socks were covered in dots and monkeys, and no one ever asked him about the work he did on his Click-Clackulator, for they assumed it would be as boring as his suit.

It was a genius cover.

The real name of the establishment was the Washwick Old Haven Liaison and Public Perception Mitigation Office—WOHLAPPMO, or “Wohlappmo” as they called it.

The staff at Wohlappmo had many duties.
They managed the communications between Washwick and Old Haven and filed regular safety reports on the Washwick train tracks, handled classified information and investigations, and they also processed any applications for special travel passes to Old Haven.

Typically, only the descendants of the original Old Haven settlers were granted access to the town by way of the Green Train, but occasionally—as with Mr. Jude Bonneclaire years earlier—special exceptions could be made. In those cases, applicants had to go through Wohlappmo to apply for tickets.

The most important job of those who worked at Wohlappmo, however, was to make sure no one in Washwick, Missouri ever found out that the Green Train to Old Haven actually existed. In fact, this was precisely the reason Mrs. Marie Bonneclaire took the job as the local librarian. From her desk at the downtown library, she could monitor exactly who was checking out books about Old Haven, who was researching its founders, and when rumors arose that the whole thing was not lore—but in fact real—she could easily squash them on the spot. When farmers and fishermen swore they spotted a strange green train stealing quietly through the woods at night, it was often Marie who put out the cover stories that explained it all away. The entire Wohlappmo staff worked tirelessly each day to ensure that every strange puff of steam, every sighting near a junction, and every whispered Old Haven rumor was intercepted, neutralized, and filed away as harmless fiction before the world took any serious notice.

***

At 11:40 PM the back office door flew open again and Ms. Perk handed three large bags and a stack of umbrellas to Mrs. Bonneclaire, who then carried them out to the front.

“Alright children, come quickly,” she said, distributing their bags. “We’ve got a bit of a walk.”

Mr. Bonneclaire held her coat for her as she slipped it back on, and he buttoned his own coat and placed his hat on his head.

Outside it had begun to rain again, and Mr. and Mrs. Bonneclaire looked left and right a handful of times before taking to the street with their children. There were several snapping sounds and a flurry of whooshes, and then five brightly colored umbrellas bloomed over the family, each of them an electric splash of color against the night.

This book is now available for pre-order!

https://www.wherethegreentraingoes.com/

Secure your copy ASAP, as we’ll be placing our bulk order soon! ☘️✨

Good morning!

My book, Where the Green Train Goes, is officially available for Pre-Order today!
You can order it here:
https://www.wherethegreentraingoes.com/

Those who order the book are invited to pick up their copies in person at our Launch Party on July 18th at the Sparrow’s Nest in Washington, MO where we’ll have Old Haven decorations, Old Haven foods, and even Old Haven music!

If you can’t make the in-person party, no worries! Simply select our “Direct Shipping” option at check out and we’ll ship your book straight to you.

In order to ensure everyone gets to walk away with their own copy on July 18th, we’re encouraging everyone to order their book(s) as soon as possible! We’ll have to place a bulk order soon and will need to have a good idea of how many to order early on to make sure we have enough.

The website should have all the details you need ❤️

Thank you for coming on this journey with me!
See you in Old Haven soon ☘️

https://www.wherethegreentraingoes.com/

It was closing time at the public library in Washwick, Missouri and the librarian flipped three light switches off and turned four very disappointed children away, their heads drooped low and their shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” she said, as she followed them out and locked up for the evening. “All our copies are checked out.”

The book she was referring to, of course, was Meerschnobb Tales of the Old Green Train, a book that was perpetually checked out from the Washwick Library no matter how many copies they put on the shelves. For decades, the book had been considered the greatest work of Washwick lore in existence, and no matter how many times the town’s children read it, for some reason, they just couldn’t get enough.

When the librarian had double-checked the locked doors, she wrapped her long tan coat around her and tightened its belt at her waist. The dark autumn sky began to spit a cold drizzle as the children she’d turned away hopped into cars of waiting parents, their windshield wipers swishing back and forth. The street soon emptied and fell quiet, except for the clicking of the woman’s heels on the sidewalk, as she opened her umbrella and began her walk around the block.

***

Every copy of Meerschnobb Tales of the Old Green Train was thick and dark green with bright illustrations of a fantastical old factory and a green train disappearing into a colorful cloud of light. Its title was written in metallic gold script with swirling flourishes, and—strangely—its pages always smelled of some sweet, old, factory steam.

According to the story of the Meerschnobb Collective, a group of three Washwick men—Frederick Schwarzer, Barnaby Bisbee, and Reginald Plum—quit their humdrum day jobs in the early 1900s and opened up a “Wonder Workshop” in the old Meerschnobb Corn Cob Factory building by the river. The men, who came to be known as the Meerschnobb Collective, were brilliant men of science, faith, and imagination. Around town, they were known both for their genius ideas, and the wonderfully whimsical way they dressed—in colorful striped pants and patterned vests, thick orange spectacles, and caps with emerald ribbons.

Their Wonder Workshop was said to be a sight to behold too, with pipes of neon glass crisscrossing the ceiling,
winding machines with mechanical fingers and bright buttons,
glass bowls of swirling liquid,
chalkboards full of impossible equations,
floors stained with dye spills and paint samples,
and storage bins labeled in rhyming nonsense words instead of numbers.
Day and night, sparks could be seen flying from various machines inside and colorful smoke billowed from the shop’s windows, purple, pink, and green.

In their first year working together, the collective produced the Tinker-Twist Tool Set, the Tabletop Echochroma, and the first ever batch of Sizzlewicks—which were portable pouches of fireless fireworks. Each of these inventions alone proved to make Plum, Schwarzer, and Bisbee very wealthy young men, but it was during their second year working together that they (accidentally) cracked the code for “chronal-spatial convergence.”

This meant they created a machine with a technology that enabled them to travel very, very far away,
very, very fast—
or as they put it, “move creatively through the fabric of space and time.”
They named their machine the “Chronal Accelerator,” and they claimed all they needed to make it work was a travel vessel to put it in.

Soon after that, Barnaby Bisbee, who had an uncle in the railroad industry, bought an old green train off of him, and the Collective spent a month sprucing it up—“Wonder-Workshop-style.” Then, on a clear, June summer morning, they mounted the Chronal Accelerator in the train, adjusted their settings and coordinates, and took off.

Reportedly, on their first trip testing the Accelerator, they all but blinked and their train lurched several thousand chronal miles forward and rolled suddenly to a stop on a rickety track by a wooden shack of a train station half across the world. They stepped down off the train into hot, dry sand; saw a cactus, a lizard, and a rattling snake slithering sideways toward them; and then turned around and hightailed it right back home.

Back at their workshop that night, the collective agreed that—while it was indeed extraordinary to travel very fast to places very far away—they had gone too fast, and they had not liked the place they’d gone. So, they spent a month tinkering with the controls and tweaking their calculations, and when they were confident they’d made the proper adjustments—as the story goes—they kissed their young wives goodbye, sounded the train whistle, and set out on their second voyage.

While the collective’s first trip on the chronally accelerated train went a little awry and landed them in a desert with a cactus and a snake, they found their second trip quite pleasant. They recorded in their journals that at first there had been a few “chronal surges” that dipped them underground through tunnels or whipped them up and around a mountaintop faster than they might have liked. But after a time, the tracks leveled out and the speed eased up, and they found themselves chugging leisurely through green rolling hills and over calm shining waters, until at last, the Green Train arrived at a place called Old Haven.

While the town was completely abandoned when they found it, legend has it that Plum, Schwarzer, and Bisbee were so taken with the place—with all its charming (though rundown) buildings and old mansions, its cobblestone roads and bluffs looking over the river—that they decided at once they would buy the town and spend their lives turning it into their creative masterpiece. They, along with their wives, moved there straight away and each of them started a family, all the while working on the town, fixing it up, and dreaming of what it could be.

After some time, it’s said that they recruited some of their best friends, who brought their families, and then those families recruited some of their best friends, who brought their families, and on and on this went until Old Haven had officially grown into a tiny, thriving little town.

A most unique feature of the town, besides the fact that it could only be accessed by a green, chronally accelerated train, was perhaps the bedrock belief it was built upon. Plum, Schwarzer, and Bisbee, along with the town’s initial settlers, strongly held the belief: “Our Maker Made Us Makers.” Simply put, they believed humans create because their Maker creates, and He wove that into their being. So creativity, they said, was not a frivolous waste of time or a distraction from “the more important work,” but rather, it was a mandate and a gift from God Himself. Creating was not silly, or optional; it was vital.

According to the Meerschnobb Tales of the Old Green Train, Barnaby Bisbee wrote in early town documents that “the very fact that we are all driven to make, create, and bring order to chaos is the thumbprint of the Creator Himself on our souls.” He wrote, “We create and find joy in creating because our Maker did first.”

And so, when the people of Old Haven built their first train station, it was that phrase, “Our Maker Made Us Makers,” that they engraved in the stone arched entrance to the town, and the Meerschnobb Collective declared the town’s entire purpose and existence was to put that truth on display.

As one might imagine,
the town quickly became a wonderfully peculiar place to behold.

It was discovered early on that the children of Old Haven often produced the creations that most purely expressed the town’s beliefs. The adults came to learn that the weird, wild, uninhibited imaginations of the children could not be matched—they were extraordinary. As a result of these findings, it was actually the children who were put in charge of many of the creative projects in the town, such as new shops, businesses, restaurant ideas, parks, games, and gardens. As the years passed, Old Haven grew more and more colorful, quirky, and spectacular all the time.

***

It was precisely these stories of inventors, time-traveling trains, and a colorful town half-run by children that made it impossible to keep the big book of Meerschnobb Tales on the shelves at the Washwick Public Library.

To the children of Washwick, Missouri, those stories were the perfect combination of magical, addictive, fanciful, and ridiculous…

To every child, except the Bonneclaire siblings, that is.

While Luke, Sebastian, and Ruby Bonneclaire found the Meerschnobb Tales to be just as magical and irresistible as the other children of Washwick—
they did not find them “fanciful” or “ridiculous.”

They did not, and they could not,

when their very own mother had been born and raised in Old Haven (a true, direct descendant of Reginald Plum), and the Bonneclaire children had secretly grown up riding the Green Train and visiting the town themselves…

Available for Pre-Order Monday, May 4th, 2026 ☘️

I have no problem saying it; at any given time, I’d rather be cracking open a theology book than writing this children’s novel.

It’s not to say I don’t get into theology or the Word at all during this season, but it’s a simple math thing. If you were doing five things before and you add something new—without adding more hours to the day—schedules shift. Windows of time shift. When you take on a job, the “work” has to fit in somewhere. I used to have my entire afternoon open for study, and now I don’t. It looks different. It’s early mornings and scribbled cards of scripture and prayer stuck all over my house so I can get my eyes on it no matter what the day brings.

But to be clear, I am aching to get back.
Aching to get back to a weird amount of time in the Word, aching for more slow study…

I am so proud of this book project, but I cannot wait to be done with it.

So that begs the question: why?
Why take on a silly project like a children’s fiction book if I genuinely feel called to a life of deep study and teaching?

Welcome to our topic of conversation every time I get my husband alone on a weekend night when I’m exhausted and missing my extra Bible hours and doubting every page of my stupid kid’s book. Why did you let me do this? I say lol.

But the truth is, we don’t do anything around here without a whole lot of Kingdom consideration. When days are short and we’re working for a “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” every yes is a weighty one.
And we weighed this “yes” thoroughly before I ever committed to it.

The following considerations helped inform my decision.

1. Disciples are missional, so I need to be on mission. At first glance, a children’s fantasy novel that is not “overtly” Christian may not seem missional, but if you’re a stay-at-home homeschool mom who also works for her husband (from home), you have to get creative. It’s not easy for me to get out in this season, but writing (on the internet or in books) has always been an avenue the Lord has used to bring me new relationships.
   
   By choosing to write a book that’s not necessarily geared toward “church people,” I’m casting a net. This book has already given me a foot into shops, stores, businesses and schools I never would’ve gotten into otherwise.
   I cannot wait to see who I meet.
   

2. My husband and I are working on a children’s Bible curriculum. We have a waitlist a mile long of our church friends who want it (thank God!), but we asked ourselves the question: how do we get this into the hands of families who won’t walk into a church? And so, refer back to #1.
   This book is a net.
   Our deepest prayer is that, through this not-overtly-Christian children’s book, we will meet people who don’t know the Lord, and ultimately form relationships we might not have gotten to otherwise.
   

3. I have three kids that I’ve had to buy books for for years now, and I would’ve just loved it if the most sound Bible teachers I knew took the time to crank out a fiction book or two for them.

   

   
   There’s a perception of “holy” work and “eternal” work, and this idea that the most serious of God’s servants are devoting all of their time to literal Bible work or work within the four walls of the church. But vocation was created by God to be an avenue for His goodness. God uses all kinds of work, all kinds of jobs for all kinds of purposes. If every sound, serious Christian student of the Bible declares that they don’t have time for frivolous art, fiction, or creation, then we leave the imagination of the next generation entirely to the world.
   
   If Christians retreat entirely from this genre, the field is left wide open to any and every other worldview out there.
   
   I don’t “push” a specific worldview in my novel, Where the Green Train Goes, but as a Christian who is daily in awe of God and knocked over by the life and wisdom found in His Word, I know it will inadvertently bleed into my writing anyhow.
   
   Our children don’t just need books with crosses and Bible pictures on them.
   They need great books of all kinds written by people who know and love God.
   

4. I’m not one of those people that believe our children have to be exposed to a bunch of darkness while they’re young so that they don’t go off the deep end once they get out on their own. It’s controversial, but we’re not “live and learn” parents in the Davis household, we’re “learn and live.” We get these few short years to protect our children while we teach them to treasure Christ and follow His Word, and then we launch them like arrows into a dark and dying world. I don’t believe exposing kids to a bunch of the world and darkness is what will protect them in the end; I believe them truly treasuring Christ and understanding and submitting to His Lordship will. Our kids will see darkness and walk through hardship undoubtedly no matter what, but sometimes they walk through sin and pain so needlessly, because we simply didn’t do our jobs as parents to teach, disciple, and protect them.
   
   That’s a really long intro into my next point, which is that I don’t think children’s books always have to have some lurking, chilling evil. People will say that good children’s books need monsters (i.e. horror, gore, violence, etc) because there are monsters out in the real world and we need to prepare them for that. But that operates under the assumption that our kids aren’t already being inundated with those images everywhere already.
   
   There are enough books on the shelf filled with things that will fight to scare, confuse, and desensitize our children;
   I want my book to be a safe haven.

   
   I think it’s good work to make something that can be a part of preserving a child’s capacity for innocence, hope, and wonder. In a world increasingly dominated even by screens, cynicism, and practical materialism, giving a child a book that takes them to a world full of light and wonder is an act of spiritual resistance.
   

   

   
   

5. Even though I may feel silly spending time in a fictional world, coming up with fictional foods, people, and places, I would argue that “wonder” is a prerequisite for faith, not a distraction from it. It’s worth inviting children into.
   
   "Wonder is an emotion comparable to surprise or admiration,
   felt when one encounters something beautiful, unexpected, or inexplicable.
   It is the mental state of being struck by the magnitude or mystery of a thing.”*
   
   Doesn’t that sound exactly like something Christians should want to cultivate in their children?
   

   

   
   Wonder is a muscle. We want our children inclined to awe;
   We want them to have the skill set of considering overwhelming beauty, of being drawn to that which is admirable, shocking, lovely, and mysterious.
   Giving children a safe space to practice “wonder” prepares them for a life (hopefully eternity) of living in the wondrous presence of God.
   

6. Despite the fact that I might (if I’m honest) consider this children’s book “lighter” work when compared to the work I’m typically drawn to (Bible work, teaching, etc), sometimes it’s the process itself that makes it something heavy.
   
   "Creation isn’t just about output. It’s a process of becoming. The best work shapes the maker as much as the audience. You don’t just create heavy things. You become someone who can.” (Anu Atluru)
   
   I am excited to find out the benefits of becoming the type of person who can finish a massive, multi-year project. The project itself might be considered “lighter” than what I’d prefer, but the process and the discipline and the perseverance of writing for three years and putting out a 500+ page book will have weight, somehow.
   
   On the days when I want to quit, it’s good work to tell myself, “You desire to be a person who does what they say they will do. So do what you said you would do.” Christians should be people who do what they say they’ll do. I look forward to the fruit of this perseverance and how the Lord might use that in other types of work later on.
   

   

   
   So there’s that.
   Thanks for coming along while I basically just try to motivate myself to get through another writing deadline this week lol. Hopefully there are some nuggets you can take with you throughout your week too,
   no matter what kind of work you’re doing.

   
   "We must not fall into the trap of thinking that only 'spiritual' work matters to God. God is glorified when we do good work, for good purposes, and do it all in His name. Whether you are preaching a sermon or finishing a manuscript, you are a servant in His kingdom." -Tim Challies

   Jess Davis Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

   
   
   
   
   
   
   

Below is an update on Where the Green Train Goes that I recently sent out on my “Jess Davis Books” Substack. If you’re already a Subscriber over there, thank you! (You can subscribe here for all things book related if you’re interested)
If you’re not, here’s a little news you might have missed about where I am on the book project at present:

First, we’ve been sending out these special thank you gifts to those of you who either have paid subscriptions over on my book Substack or have supported the project in some other way. I really can’t thank you enough! Be watching for these in the mail if that’s you ❤️.

Christmas break from homeschool was a big crunch time for the project. Typically my time is divided between homeschool, this book, and other work—but during Christmas break I went all in on WTGTG. Unfortunately I got sick on my most important “push week,” but I still was able to make some huge progress over those five weeks!

Essentially, the developmental edits I’m working on right now can be divided into five “parts.” As of today, I am mostly through “Part III” of those edits! This means the next six to eight weeks will be big ones!

We have also officially secured an incredible editor (and one of my favorite writers) for final looks over the manuscript once developmental edits are done, so I’m feeling like the finish line is finally in sight.

In most notable news probably, some of you heard we ended up having to go a different direction with the illustrations of the book.

Surprise! It’s me. 😏
I will now be personally illustrating the book!

This was not on my bingo card, to say the least lol. It is definitely daunting to add this work onto the to-do list now when we’re so close to finishing, but at the end of the day, I’m excited to share my personal vision of Old Haven with all of you—even if I’m a messy illustrator! This also means the book will have more illustrations in general, which can be fun for kids (and adults too) when you’re stepping into a new, made-up world of things you’ve never seen before.

Here’s a little peek at a few of my first illustrations!

Lastly, thank you guys for hanging with me. This work definitely isn’t for the faint of heart (I’m so surprised at how hard it is! lol), and this has been one of the longest term projects I’ve ever worked on. Stick it out with me just a little bit longer— I promise the finished product will be worth it!❤️

Xoxo,
Jess Davis

Everyone else had opened their presents, and they’d saved mine for last. I opened a small ring box and pulled out a beautiful opal ring,
and my son yelled out, SNAKE.

If you remember, it was 70 degrees that day; I guess nature was confused. It was a baby snake, thank God, but if you’ve heard about our snake attack in our Columbia house, you’ll know that Julian and I don’t play when it comes to serpents anymore.

Julian wrapped it up in the sweatshirt it had slithered under and ushered it outside to the driveway, where I sprinted out behind him with a broom and without a single thought, launched that sucker into 2026. I later found out Julian was about to stomp it, which would have been way better—I just happened to have lost my mind. And if you like snakes and you’re mad we wanted it dead, respectfully shut up. You don’t know what we’ve been through lol.

It was days later when I saw an article with a snake reference written by one of my favorite writers, Scott Hubbard, and I’ve read it fifteen times since.

Scott started his article with a quote from John Bunyan (a man they say would bleed the Bible if you cut his veins). It went like this:

“I will cool you insensibly, by degrees, by little and little.”

It wasn’t Bunyan “speaking” in that quote, but rather, Bunyan had had a haunting dream or vision about the devil, and in the vision, it was Satan himself who’d said these words.

Hubbard described the circumstances of Bunyan’s vision:

“He imagined the devil skulking nearby, not as a raging dragon but as a patient and calculating snake, as one who waits ‘until an opportune time.’”

In Bunyan’s book, Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, he wrote:

“What care I,” the tempter says, “though I be seven years in chilling your heart if I can do it at last? Continual rocking will lull a crying child asleep. I will ply it close, but I will have my end accomplished” (44).

Essentially it’s the devil saying, what do I care if it takes me seven long years to cool you to Christ, prayer, and the word, if you’re thoroughly chilled in the end? Predators are capable of so much patience; watch how long and how still they can be before they pounce.

I was jarred by this language, in part because any snake visual riles me up these days, but also because I’d recently put the back of my hand to my forehead and sensed I’d “cooled,” even if only a degree or two.

The devil will cool you insensibly, by degree, by little and little.

It will happen in different ways for all of us.

Personally, I was depleted. Burnt out. Likely burnt out about four years ago and then ran on fumes and said yes to everything for years after that. When I finally (fully) withdrew to check the damage, it’s possible I went into a little coma and stared at a wall for three months straight. Either way, I cooled. I felt it.

In Scott Hubbard’s article, he goes on to list six questions for the soul here.
I won’t repeat them, but here are just a few more things to consider.

1. There is no world where your spiritual state is icy and your relationship with the Word is warm, strong, and consistent. It’s not possible. Christ is the Word. He’s a consuming fire. Hubbard speaks on this in his article so I don’t want to be redundant, but you can’t write a thing about spiritual temperature without pointing to the Word as the fire you should be cozying up next to night and day.
   

2. It’s the beginning of a new year: Consider your closest relationships.
   My husband recently sent me a great video from Costi Hinn about toxic friendships, and he reminds us how much the company we keep matters. The people you spend your time around shape you. If your spirit is plagued with red flags and alarm bells around someone(s) that you choose to spend a lot of time around, reassess that relationship.
   

   What do your friends do for your spiritual temp?
   That’s the specific question.
   

   It doesn’t necessarily matter if they’re involved in a bunch of ministry. It doesn’t even matter if they lead in a bunch of ministry work. Is there a fire in them that thaws you out when you get close? Is there substance that warms you to Christ and draws you in? Are you captivated by the way they talk about Christ? Stunned, holy-jealous of their relationship with the Word? Do you leave their presence desperate to take a Bible in your hands, starving for Scripture?
   Flattery, fun, and flowery, regurgitated words won’t do it. Is there something real there?

   
   (And this works both ways. Ask yourself: Am I that friend? Do I warm people to Christ? Maybe you did before, but you’ve cooled. Be honest with yourself and before God, and note, this isn’t something that can be fabricated. People can sense when you’ve truly been with the Lord. And they can sense when you want to appear as though you have been.)
   

3. Warmth yesterday doesn’t equal warmth today.
   Sometimes we view ourselves in light of “warmer days,” when the truth is, our temp has dropped and it’s touching everything around us.
   
   It’s good that I made ample time for the Word last week, but did I this week? Did I today?
   It’s good I guarded my heart yesterday, but did I today?
   It’s great that I forgave ten times before, but will I forgive when it pops up in my mind again later today?

   
   It’s a whole life of this. Of conquering enemies and choosing Christ and His ways. We don’t get rollover points, we can’t skate by on our past victories; we have to fight new battles every day. There is a patient, calculated snake who is willing to wait for an opportune time: we can’t ever let our guards down.
   

4. "The more you know of Christ, the more you will want to know of Him. The more you love Him, the more you will want to love Him. He is a sea that has no bottom, and a sun that has no end." - Charles Spurgeon

   
   
   Stay warm out there folks. ☀️

   
   

   
   

I have become well-acquainted with this room in this season of my life—this most recent season. Its walls have held many conversations with my God, these pillows their share of tears and tossings and turnings.

In 2011, I wrote my very first book, The Waiting Room,
and it would seem I have found myself in another one of those. A room I’m waiting in, that is.

I’ll jot down just a couple things, as it’s a raw and risky business to write from the floor when a rug has been ripped out from under you, but it can be good for the soul and sometimes for others around you all the same:

1. It is perfectly good theology to say, “How long, O Lord?”

2. A robust, through-and-through understanding of the sovereignty of God will hold you like nothing else when circumstances exhaust you or break your heart. “Here is what I know: He is good, and He is King.”

3. I could never do life without my church again. God, what a treasure.

4. It is vital to have friends in your life that will never curse you behind your back because you’re not meeting a standard they think you should meet, not serving them enough, not keeping up. Because, what if you’re just dying inside a little bit right now? Hug all your gracious friends and offer them the same grace.

5. When all I have the energy to do is lay upon my Bible, and it’s one of those awful, stormy days where opening it and turning its pages seems a chore—it will be the deep reserves and faithful days of study in the past that will hold me. It’s just another reason we must dig wells with our deep study; when it’s truly hidden in our hearts we can draw from it no matter where we are.

And last, these lovely words from Jonathan Edwards are a good reminder.

“God is glorified in the sight of his creatures, by the trials which the saints endure, and the comfort and support which he grants them under their troubles.”

If so, I’ve started a tidy, separate little Substack over here for you.
It’s called the Jess Davis Books Substack.

Many of my readers at this particular Substack are expecting Biblical thoughts, essays, Christian-living type posts—which I will continue to do!

But I thought it would be best to make a separate space specifically for writings and news about my fiction work (and other book projects).

Subscribe to the Jess Davis Books Substack to get behind the scenes looks at the book writing process, early announcements, book release information, and even extra little notes, idea sketches, and story details that you’ll only be able to find on this new Substack.

Those who choose the Paid Subscription option will get early looks at chapters from the book, and a special little treat in the mail if you shoot me your address! Paid subscriptions make the self-published world go round ❤️. It means more than you know, and I’d love to thank you!

Here’s a look at my first little post over at the new book-related substack; mostly talking about Click-Clackulators, zizzlebeans, and Scrumplechunks.

See ya over there.

Xoxo,
Jess

*In case you missed it,
subscribe to the new book-related Substack here:

Jess Davis Books

Follow my book projects, writing process, and book-related announcements here!

It was before I came to Christ, and the guy I’d been seeing for months hid me in a closet and pushed a couch in front of it because his “real” girlfriend (evidently) showed up unexpectedly. When I realized what was going on, I resigned to it—the shame of it, the pain of it—and I quietly crossed my legs crisscross applesauce, folded my hands in my lap and waited. When he let me out, I walked numb out of the house and cut through dark backyards till I reached my car, and it occurred to me (finally) why I’d been asked to park a block away all this time. He was hiding me.
I internalized that the only rational way one in my position would; people hide you when you are not chosen, not worth it, not worthy. When you are shameful and devious and dirty. He did not, would not love me, and I did not, could not leave.
So I attempted to scream-cry the hopelessness all out on my steering wheel.

I’ve shared this sentiment before in other spaces, but the reason I was crying was not because he’d hurt me or scared me—it was because of the hopelessness I felt.
I’d cycled in and out of this same relationship for a year, and was in another just like it for two years before that, and I knew I’d never get out; I didn’t even want to.
.
.

I remember another night, lying on the floor of someone’s trailer out in the middle of nowhere, random people half-asleep all over the room. I heard a tap on the window, and a guy near me got up, opened the window, and they did a drug deal right over my head. I had this brief, passing thought of, how in the world did I get here?
but then it did what passing thoughts do, and passed, and I continued doing what I’d always done—chase the dark and love it.

These are small snippets I think of when I think of “back then.” Dark times, but they don’t even scratch the surface of the depraved life I was living. There are things I’ll never be able to tell anyone about that season. Not anyone at all.

I thought of this the other night when I got up in the middle of the night and walked down the hall and I noticed a flickering light in the office. A flameless candle (battery powered) had gotten jostled around in a box of decor and was casting a yellow glow on the ceiling. I took it out of the box, held it up in the dark, and had a whole moment with it, right there at 2:00 a.m., I don’t know why. It fascinated me, the way it lit the night up, the way the flame looked in the middle of the still room, so unexpected.

When I twisted its base, the light shut off, and suddenly I found myself in a pitch black room. Not sure why I was so emotional about it all, but the visual was kind of jarring to me. I hadn’t realized how black it was, I hadn’t realized what that little light had done.

I could say the same for a day back in March, nearly seventeen years ago—not long after I scream-cried on my steering wheel—when I opened my Bible and read it for the first time in a decade.

Part of the reason I write on Substack and write books and try to sell them is because I am a homeschooling mom trying to make an income with whatever I can from home. But in my clearest, sweetest moments when that all fades away and I stop telling God what I “need” (He already knows), I’m alone in a room with a candle and there is this:
the Word really, really does change everything.
The Word really, really is so powerful.

I was the most broken person most people knew back in 2008, any of my friends would tell you, and I read one passage of Scripture and it blew my world up—praise God.
I’d built a world that so badly needed to be blown up.
One passage.
It read me. It was alive. It knew everything about my life and lit up all my secrets, stripped me bare and shone on all the webs of lies in the corners.
How did one verse convict me and invite me in all at one time? How could a few lines of Scripture do what my best friends could not, my parents could not, my teachers could not, the women’s shelter could not, my own willpower could not do?

The Word drew me to Jesus Christ Himself and saved me.

I am new now, because of the Word.
After only darkness, I have light.

Actually, in honor of Reformation Day today - there is a perfect saying my heart’s been happily singing: “Post Tenebras Lux” …. “After Darkness, Light.”

I really mean it when I say that if every other word I wrote fell on deaf ears—if all of that time working and writing was wasted—I would be content if only these short lines seeped in:

The very saving power of God is in the pages of Scripture
and to neglect them is to neglect life itself.
How are you breathing if you’re not really in the Word? Your lips are blue. You are not getting any air. And merely skimming the pages won’t do.

.
.

So it’s totally worth a life’s work, I think, to stir one another to study the Word more and more, forever. Not to know stuff, but to know God, and to know the transforming power of the Bible.
For the mature Christian, press in even more, be faithful, and learn to teach those younger in the faith how to do what you do, how to find the treasure you find.
For those new in the faith, young in the faith, or out of the habit of reading the Bible,
make
space
in your life
to labor over this book.

“The law of the Lord is perfect,
reviving the soul;
the testimony of the Lord is sure,
making wise the simple;
the precepts of the Lord are right,
rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is pure,
enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the Lord is clean,
enduring forever;
the rules of the Lord are true,
and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
and drippings of the honeycomb.”
(Psalm 19:7-10)

I only get one more birthday with a “3” in front of it unless I live to be 300 so I think that’s worth a birthday eve muffin.

Last year I spent my 38th birthday in a swanky little olive oil tasting bar, drinking fancy Pepsi and eating crispy bread with a couple of my closest friends before we went back to my house and put on black silk pajama sets and had a full-on slumber party in my living room.

A lot has happened since then.

The city built a sidewalk outside my house and I walk on it sometimes in the mornings or after lunch. I cleaned out and organized the two most cluttered closets on our top floor, and I lost 70 entire pounds—not by cleaning out the closets, but I’m sure that didn’t hurt.

I finally got two little lamps for our kitchen counters because I love lamp light and hate big white overhead lights, and I turn those lamps on early in the morning and make breakfasts with the windows open.

I finally got my sleep schedule back on track; I learned how to go to bed early (except tonight) and wake up very early,
and I saw more than 100 sunrises in a row this summer.

I began the habit of asking God for grace the second I wake up in the morning—before I open my eyes, before my feet hit the floor—because this past year, perhaps more than any others, the Lord has shown me how badly I need it. He also showed me how little good it does to ask Him for grace and then ignore the very means by which He gives us grace: namely, prayer and the Word.

Oh that’s something else I did when I was 38:
prayer and the Word, prayer and the Word, prayer and the Word.
It’s worth noting that these were my best moments.

In July I got in a swimsuit for the first time in who knows how long and I spun in circles under a pulsing, neon sun in an inner tube that looked like a pink donut with sprinkles, and felt very free, very much like I was 7 again, and very much delighted with a God who would make sunshine and warmth and water.

In March I spoke at a conference and felt like a full cup being poured out. I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone else when I say it, but what I mean is that it felt like purpose and it felt holy and so sweet and exhausting and humbling.

I instituted Friday Family Fun Nights in my home and it was a good move. I don’t know if this will make sense to anyone else either, but somehow those nights I feel like a full cup being poured out too;
the Lord is kind to give us many ways to serve Him and bring Him glory. It can look like microphones and stages and it can look like laughing in a living room with children who need present parents and a godly home.

While I was 38 I wrote a Bible study, launched a ministry, wrote another Bible study, nearly launched a novel, then learned about pumping breaks and saying no.
I will still be learning these things as I roll into 39.
Lord willing, I will keep my word and I’ll do some more good work as the Lord gives me margin, and I will still launch my novel. But I spent a lot of time processing how hard it is to be divided—even amongst good, godly things—and I heard someone I trust say that part of being a leader is learning to disappoint people with your “no.”
I’ll still be learning that as I roll into 39 too.

At 38 years old, I am more settled than I’ve ever been in a church.
I bleed Genesis Church green; I have a family I don’t ever want to be without. It is no small thing to be seen, known, loved, forgiven, safe, protected, challenged, grown, humbled, stretched, inspired, and content all in one body. The church—this church—is a lot of birthday wishes (prayers) come true. I am home, and I still can’t believe it.

This past week I went on a trip with my family and my parents and I was one inch away from a real lion—face to face. I stood there with my hands on the glass in front of me, and the lion yawned and stretched, and I couldn’t breathe. I told my dad later I thought I might’ve cried. God speaks to us through His creation and He has blown me away this past year. All I kept thinking was, “Oh, what You must be like…”
This God who makes lions and leaves, skies and butterflies.

The Lord was almost violently good to me this year.
Now that I’m thinking of it, He had me tripping over His goodness around every corner…
took me by the hand and plunged me into an ocean of it,
downright drowned me in it.

I’m not dreading 39,
not dreading my thirties slipping away at all.
God and His goodness will be on every side of every moment, He’s promised me.

Earlier this week I mentioned on Facebook that I use an app to put music to lyrics I’ve written, and recently started playing around with some of the arrangements a little bit too. It’s just a restful creative outlet for me on Sundays.

I wrote a feel-good, drive in October with the windows down song about how God speaks to us through His creation—especially in October.

The important thing to remember is that I am not singing this lol.
But it’s fun nonetheless.

The song is called October Haze.
You can listen to it here:
https://suno.com/s/DuPeS4MuYnMmvhqE

Dropping the lyrics below.
Happy October! 🍂

Verse 1:
open window, falling red leaves
golden sun and you paint these trees
You talk through a cool crisp breeze
who am I that you’re mindful of me?

the way it feels when the window’s open
and when I kneel you give me hope and
i’m so in awe of you

Chorus:
glory paint dripping from His brush
in the shade of October
it’s how He reveals Himself to us
big moon blue sky, look closer
oh, my, autumn rainy days
oh, my, Creator and His ways
Set these crimson trees ablaze
sing that praise, October haze

Verse 2:
cinnamon, apple trees
crackle fire, crunching leaves
You say something with created things
when you make something, your creation sings

You say something with created things
when you make something, your creation sings
You say something with created things
when you make something, your creation sings

oh, my, autumn rainy days
oh, my, Creator and His ways
set these crimson trees ablaze
sing that praise, October haze

sing that praise, October haze

“Well you have to suffer. If you want to grow, you have to suffer. It’s hard to learn.
Into the night, crack of dawn in the morning, start with the Bible, read the classics…
You have to study, you have to suffer, you have to think.”
(Larry Arnn, President of Hillsdale College)

I’d not considered this kind of “suffering” before.
When I think of the suffering of a Christian, I think of persecution, great loss, grief, trials, tribulations; I had never heard someone refer to the pursuit of knowledge, wisdom, and discernment as a form of “suffering.”

But Arnn is right; it’s hard to learn. It’s hard to study. It’s hard to think.

Why?
Because of to-do lists. Because of other pressing responsibilities. Hardships, burdens. Short attention spans. Overwhelm. Something else has to go—and what else can go? What can I possibly take off my plate to make time for this?

It’s also a heavy mental load on the brain.
In practical terms, our brain is the engine behind the kind of academic research and critical thinking it takes to study complex texts like the Bible. Our brains have to work to process vast amounts of information—engaging with the biblical books themselves, historical documents, scholarly commentaries. The Bible itself is a library of ancient, historical documents, a thousand pages and then some, originally written in three different languages. The brain has to work hard to identify connections between these different people, ideas, timelines, and events, or to move beyond the surface level to see the literary genre or cultural context the text was written in. It’s work to remember, work to retain, work to wrestle with difficult portions of Scripture.

Even if we grew up in a generation that believed Bible time was primarily an emotional endeavor where we connect with God through our hearts and feelings,
real Bible work—transformative Bible work—involves the mind. As Jen Wilkin said,

“The heart cannot love what the mind does not know.”

Our minds have a lot of work to do to find a truth in Scripture before our hearts can ever respond to it or apply it to our lives.

There are different relationships you can have with this type of studying.

1. Don’t do it.

2. Do it poorly, inconsistently, or ineffectively.

3. Do it to stuff your head with knowledge, puff yourself up with pride, and look down your nose at people who don’t know what you know.

4. Do it humbly, faithfully, to know God, love Him, and love others better. Like Proverbs 2 says, you call out for insight, raise your voice for understanding, seek it like silver and search for it as hidden treasures so you can, as Romans 12:2 says, be transformed by the renewal of your mind.

Is this something you want?
To know God, to love Him, and love others better? Do you want wisdom and understanding? Do you want to be transformed? To have a renewed mind?

Then I would cheerfully, boldly encourage you to suffer for it.

It seems today that we can find encouragement to do every hard thing imaginable except this. This is too much.

We can run marathons, attend sports practices every week, work overtime, knit & crochet masterpieces, do Whole 40, cut out sugar, read 100 novels a year, remodel our houses, drive our kids all over God’s green earth to whatever hobby or interest they have—

but you can’t suggest a person make more time to study, seek wisdom, seek understanding without having to wade through conversations about legalism, “head knowledge,” and “not everyone is a theologian.” (but everyone is a theologian, btw.)

Here’s what I know.
What we learn and behold shapes our lives and informs every action we take and every decision we make.
This work will change a heart. It will change a home. It will pump a ministry full of life, pump a mission full of transformative theology, expose a sin, weed out a lie, drive a person to pray, and draw a person closer to their church.

I don’t mind encouraging you to suffer this way. I don’t mind asking it of you, and I don’t mind if you ask it of me. I think it’s a loving ask.

The very fact that the Psalmist in Psalm 119:18 asks God to open his eyes to find wondrous things in the Word implies that those things are not easily found, and “we will not wake up ten years from now and find we have passively taken on the character of God,” (Jen Wilkin). We’ll have to suffer to get there. To encourage someone to make space in their life for more study of the things of God is to encourage them toward holiness, truth, wonder, and Christ Himself.

What this work looks like will be different for everyone.

I’ve included pictures of lots of my books and notes, but these were all studied at different times and in different seasons, and it’s all taken a really long time.

These were corners of a morning while my kids did their Language Arts or Handwriting work, hours in the night after everyone went to bed, Friday nights after telling my friends “sorry, I can’t,” or pockets of morning, in the dark, after dragging myself out of warm covers, heavy eyes, clicking on the lamps, throwing open a window.

I studied these books on days I was bitter or harboring resentment.
I wrote these notes on days I felt weak, angry, and desperately wretched. I read these pages late at night when God felt far from me, and I read them on sunny, pretty afternoons when He felt so near I thought my heart would explode.

And it never feels like enough. None of those moments, paragraphs, notes ever feel like enough in the moment. I’m constantly overwhelmed by what I don’t get to, what I still don’t know, and how desperately I need more knowledge of God, more fear of Him, more of His wisdom.

But I know this kind of work adds up. I know faithfulness here stacks up, and my heart, home, marriage and ministry have been deeply shaped by all of it.

Larry Arnn’s words stirred me up.
I wrote this post to myself over and over for a month before I wrote it for anyone else, and I’m delighted by the fruit it’s producing in my life:

“You have to study, you have to suffer, you have to think.”

I’m encouraged to look at my favorite leaders and teachers and remember: they’ve been doing this for thirty plus years. Some of them fifty years or more. It took them a long time to learn; it took a lot of work.
I get excited when I think about what kind of kingdom vessel the Lord can make out of my mind if I will only be faithful to suffer in this thing.

When I’m old, I wanna be a great gift to my church. When my hands and face are covered in wrinkles, it will bless me if the young girls in my church can come to me and know I’ll have something good and godly to say to them. I hope to be far more useful by then than I am now.

I hope to have more wisdom to offer my grandchildren than I do to my children.

I want to be a great tool in the hands of my Maker in thirty long years if I’m still here,

but what Larry Arnn helped me understand is
that will mean suffering in quiet solitude for decades,
seeking God and His ways through studying, thinking, learning, and praying.

We can start this work anywhere, right where we are.

If you’re studying a book of the Bible, study it well.
If you’ve started a book, finish it,
started a class, complete it.
Comb through Scripture, read good, theological books that help you understand it, and soak everything in more prayer than you thought possible before.

✨✨✨

If you want to find wondrous things in God’s Word, you’ll have to suffer.
Into the night, crack of dawn in the morning, start with the Bible…
You’ll have to study, have to suffer, have to think.

In light of ongoing conversation about political debate and the Christian faith, I wanted to offer some thoughts on being a persuasive Christian. While you won’t find any political pieces I’ve written arguing the right or the left (those pieces don’t exist), you could find many I’ve written concerning the church and how she behaves when the world shifts beneath her feet or the cultural landscape is in upheaval.

To put it plainly, I don’t write as a Republican or Democrat to her fellow citizens of the United States of America;
I write as a church member to her church.

A lot of Christian voices out there seem to think we have a pretty big gospel opportunity on our hands right now; I tend to agree.
There is a whole lot of conversation going on. A whole lot of people leaning in that never have before. It would be so beautiful if we were found in the end to have been a faithful, persuasive bunch who made much of our God in all this, wouldn’t it?

To persuade in a biblical sense is to use sound reasoning, truth, and love to lead others toward faith in God.

Here are a few things about that:

1. On Contempt for Sinners Who Are Doing What Sinners Do

In all your conversations—especially those with the lost—keep in mind what grace did for you.

We know when we’ve forgotten what grace did for us when we look at others and we’re repulsed. When we eye roll, when we can’t help but rant and rant and rant about their “stupid, disgusting views,” when we’re utterly shocked and appalled and just can’t even believe they would…fill in the blank.
The problem isn’t in seeing sin as disgusting, shocking, or appalling.
The problem is in acting like we would choose differently if it weren’t for grace.

We wouldn’t.

If we know any truth, if we live our lives by any good truth at all, it is only because God, in His grace, chose to open our eyes to it. If He had not, we would not.
We should not be surprised when sinners are doing what sinners do, and we also shouldn’t behave as if we’re superior to them if we’re not engaging in that particular sin or believing that particular lie.

Jonathan Edwards said, “Spiritual pride tends to speak of other person’s sins with bitterness or with laughter and levity and an air of contempt.” Hating sinners (or ranting about them, or mocking them—publicly or privately) for doing what sinners do before they find grace is not only spiritually immature, it shows a profound lack of humility.

“Real spiritual growth is always growth downward, so to speak, into profounder humility…” (J.I. Packer).

I’m a trillion times more likely to say this to a born-again, Bible-believing member of the church than I ever would to a lost soul in the dark who hasn’t found the truth:
but as a church, we need to grow up. Our contempt for sinners says more about our understanding of the gospel than it does about theirs.

2. On Winning the Argument for the Sake of Winning the Argument

Remember that the point of conversation, as a persuasive Christian, is to win a soul to Christ, not to win an argument.

You can completely disarm a person you’re in debate with—tear down every argument they have, prove them wrong, catch them slipping, poke holes in all their lies—and still do absolutely nothing for the kingdom. The goal is not to bury a person, even if you can. Even if it’s easy. Even if it’s “funny.”

The goal is to use sound reasoning, truth, and love to bring. them. to. your. side.
It’s not just about delivering all your points successfully and pulling the rug out from under them—they’re not the enemy. They’re the prize. We want to gain them as a brother or a sister, not a humiliated foe.

When they’re lying on the ground and you’ve got your foot on their chest, how likely do you think they are to reach up and say, “Oh dear saint, you were right, I must have what you have! Please, tell me about your Savior!”

They have to be able to hear the gospel from you, and feel it.

3. On Snark: One of the Greatest, Most Subtle Enemies of Christian Persuasion

Most Christians assume everyone is mad at us all the time because of the gospel; because we’re saying the truth and the world hates it. Sometimes that’s true.

But I’ve seen many a debate, many a social media thread, many a conversation where a Christian had the truth in one hand, and a gift-wrapped opportunity to engage with a non-believer in the other, and flubbed it all because they chose to use snark or sarcasm rather than patience and gentleness.

Make no mistake. Snark serves our pride and it serves the enemy—it does not ever serve the kingdom.

Snark is a blend of sarcasm and smugness. It's a cutting, (usually cynical) tone used to mock, belittle, or dismiss an “opponent's” viewpoint, and it always, always, always undermines effective Christian persuasion.

Jesus approached sinners with compassion and a desire to heal and restore, not to mock or shame them. It was, “this person is sick and I’m the Physician,” not “look how dumb this lost sinner is.”

Snark—while it might seem humorous to us or those looking on—is fueled by a sense of superiority and disdain. Snark is the moment where you’ve poked the hole, torn the thing down, backed the person into the corner, and then you turn to the crowd watching and you say, “Ha. Look at this idiot.” And you can do that with your words, with your tone, with a look on your face, or with your social media memes and posts. It doesn’t matter how or where you employ your snark, it prioritizes making yourself look superior in the argument rather than loving the soul on the other end of it, and it is the exact opposite of Christ’s example.
The result? You lose that person’s ear. Immediately.

Just this week I found myself watching the comments section of a rich debate and a very capable, competent Christian entered the chat, and all I thought to myself was “let’s gooooo.”
But within seconds it was over. The opportunity was flubbed because they saw a platform to get likes and laughs and make a subtle dig, and they took it.
I was left with a sentiment I feel too often when observing Christians in debate:
Gosh darn it. You had something true to say, but you wrapped it in snark and you lost their ear. Was it worth it? That’s a soul.

We have to ask ourselves again and again, what is really the goal?
Because if the goal is to actually be heard, we can’t behave in ways that cause the person we’re trying to reach to throw up an emotional barrier. But when we mock them, even in small, subtle, passive-aggressive ways, we earn ourselves that barrier; we don’t deserve their ear anymore,
because we chose haughtiness over real gospel witness.

There is no way around it: snark is incompatible with humility, and true, effective Christian persuasion requires humility. True, effective Christian persuasion recognizes that we are sinners ourselves, saved only by grace, and our message is from God, not from our own cleverness.

Snark, by its very nature, is arrogant. It says, "I am smarter than you, and I will prove it by making you look foolish." Any time we use it—in debates, in memes, in sermons, in political speeches, in conversations with a lost and dying world—we make the gospel seem ugly, and that makes us poor, pitiful representatives of a beautiful God.

God made us perceptive beings.
People see the smirks and the snarls. We do things with our words and with our faces and our body language that say I’m right about this and you’re wrong and it makes you dumber than me, and they feel that.

That is not what disciple-makers should want potential disciples to feel like.

At all costs, avoid snark when engaging with those you want to persuade with the gospel.

4. On What You Say and How You Say It

It takes a tremendous amount of wisdom, discretion, and self-restraint to think through—real time—how to say what you need to say in a way that will not needlessly stir up offense in others.

The gospel will be offensive enough to the world. If it genuinely is the truth itself that’s upsetting those we engage with—let it be. Be bold in Christ. I would never suggest not saying the truth.

But half the people who are mad at us because we “shared the gospel” with them never even actually heard the gospel, because we said it like jerks or weirdos.

I like to think of every new conversation with a non-believer like a field laid out in front of me. I want to put a lot of thought into which seeds to plant where, and how and when I water them for the best chances of fruit. In other words, I put a lot of care into which words are the wisest words to use, and where and when to use them. I’m not walking on eggshells, but there’s no need in stirring someone up unnecessarily because I was careless with the way I phrased things or didn’t think through how it might be perceived. When that happens, we never even end up getting to the good part.

Keep control of your language and use it carefully, authentically, and wisely. Sometimes syrupy, cliche, overly “affected,” flowery “Christianese” language can be just as off-putting as snark or insult. Give thought to which words accomplish your goal—and how to say those words so they have the best chance of genuinely landing on good soil.

5. On the Role of the Word

Lastly, we can’t do this without the Word.
This is likely at least one reason the church today struggles to engage in effective, charitable conversation with the world.

Biblical and theological literacy don’t just give us the answers we need to defend and share our faith—they help the Word get in our hearts and take root, so it can build in us the character and virtue we need for such an incredible (but challenging) kingdom opportunity as sharing the gospel with the lost.

Charles Spurgeon said, “The Holy Spirit has but one instrument with which to work, and that is the Word of God." If you’re gearing up to take some light out into the darkness—and I think many are—remember, you won’t be able to do it without deep, consistent study and application of the Word.

https://www.wondrousthingsministries.com/