You beckon me to rise and leave behind the restless night.

I love meeting you before the morning light—the world still sleeping, my coffee steaming. I sit at my desk under the dim desk light, illuminating my Bible pages. Your word greets me like a table set, waiting for its guests.

I used to design my routine with you: choosing the right music, reading plan, and reference books. That is, until the rain started pouring, drowning my efforts until they became muddy clay beneath my feet. My reading plan and reference books buried beneath my fears.

After the raging storm, you and I are left under the dim desk light.

I realize I don’t need more; I actually need quite less. All I need is my Bible, my longing heart, and maybe some paper and a pen.

You tell me to write what I see. Some times I write from the pit and other times from the mountain. Some days I see narrow and other days I see wide. These pages are my worship. Some are written so bad I throw them away, but you tell me to pick them back up, so you can put them in a frame.

They are records of my weakness, you call more precious than gold—a gallery of your grace. You make the most magnificent display.

Our lives are a never-ending creative work, an instrumental composition of your faithfulness. Even my songs of lament and frustration are essential to this composition. They bring the depths I need to enrich the heights.

You tell me to write down the meaningless moments, so when I look back you can show me their meaning. New arrangements, ideas, and perspective follow each season. Journals filling and filling with notes. My fears overwhelmed with the promise of life. So many songs to write. How exciting it is to wake up each day!

Oh, how I love this time before the morning light—the world still sleeping, my coffee steaming. I sit at my desk under the dim desk light, illuminating my Bible pages.

This is what I was made to do: write.

My worship to You.

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

I will start by saying this is dumb. In a world of fears, the fear of food is probably the stupidest one. But it’s real. And it was a stupid problem in my life until adulthood.

As dumb as it is, this is one of my favorite stories to tell. Jesus delivers us from more than sin; He delivers us from any bondage we live in. No matter how small it may seem.

To paint the picture of how bad this picky-eating thing was, I didn’t try ketchup until I was 18. I ordered my food plain everywhere I went.

When I was a kid, I spent evenings crying at the dinner table because I was scared to eat a green bean. I wouldn’t eat cheese unless it was the right color. I wouldn’t go to friends’ houses because I was afraid of what they would feed me. I lived off of chicken nuggets, pizza, and peanut butter. I never ate one school cafeteria lunch from elementary school through high school (except on Wednesday because it was chicken nugget day). My poor parents tried everything they could.

I was terrified of food.

A lot of little kids are picky eaters; the problem was I didn’t grow out of it. I navigated my fear in middle school and high school by simply not eating at places. I would eat before I went to my friends’ houses. I ordered off the kids menu a lot (I am a cheap date, which is my one redeeming quality).

Fast forward to after I graduated high school at 18 years old, I still carried so much fear.

I was sitting at the kitchen table by myself one afternoon. My mom had soup simmering on the stovetop for dinner. All of a sudden I had the thought: Why don’t you try it?

I desperately wanted to get out of this fear, but I didn’t know how to. I was hopeless. I carried a lot of embarrassment and shame. But I knew it was getting old and something had to change.

I prayed to God at the kitchen table that He would free me from this.

A glimmer of courage emerged in my heart. I walked over to the stove, and I tried the soup. It had a lot of vegetables in it. And I liked it.

I had hope things would change as I kept trusting God with my diet.

He kept presenting me opportunities to try new things, and I did. The fear left the more that I did. I still vividly remember the day I went to Chick-fil-A and used ketchup with my waffle fries for the first time. My life was never the same. I started putting toppings on my burgers. Mayo on my sandwiches. Barbecue sauce on my pork. No one loves condiments as much as I do.

I moved out of my parents' house and started going to new restaurants with my friends. Living on your own immediately makes you less picky because you are just grateful to eat. I started making new foods in my apartment. I tried every vegetable I could and realized I loved them all. It was amazing.

To this day, my dad will still make comments in shock at what I now eat in comparison to my entire childhood. Unfortunately, the stories of my dinner table meltdowns are still told at family gatherings, but I deserve it after all I put my parents through.

I now can survive solely on a Mediterranean diet (the Lord’s food) because of how much I love hummus, cucumbers, and arugula.

I learned I can trust God with everything, even seemingly dumb fears. He really cares about our lives.

I sought the Lord, and He heard me,
And delivered me from all my fears.

Psalm 34:4

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

I decided to join the rest of humanity and start reading the Odyssey. I saw the movie, and it piqued my interest enough to dive into the poem like the good literary student I want to become.

I have never read the Odyssey before and didn’t know anything about it. Somehow I missed learning about the most well-known story in Western civilization. So I was in for a treat walking into the theater only knowing it had Tom Holland and a Cyclops in it.

During the first 20 minutes I was figuring out who these people were and what was happening. Then I was on another island and I found the Cyclops I heard about. Then the Cyclops started eating people.

I overall enjoyed the film.

But about halfway through the movie, I left the theater and went to the bathroom to pray.

I am unashamed to say that I don’t watch horror movies or films with witchcraft in them (minus the Odyssey apparently). I have enough fear in my life; I don’t want to add more fear. I believe that the supernatural realm is real. Demons are real. I believe engaging with the supernatural outside of the Bible is not helpful, and that “fictional” demons are still demons, not merely entertainment.

So naturally, in the Odyssey, seeing all the paganism, sacrificing to the gods, drinking of blood, and interacting with the dead was very troubling to me. Every religious red flag was up. I genuinely wanted to walk out of the theater and not go back in. Paganism is evil. I don’t want it in my life. Get rid of it.

But to my shock, after I prayed, God led me to go back in to finish the movie.

God never changes, but our knowledge and understanding of Him grows as we mature in faith through the word of God.

I started following Jesus in middle school, and at the time I was watching quite a few TV shows I shouldn’t have been watching. This was also when I learned the sport of binge-watching that I was good at.

I decided to draw sharp lines around content I was not going to consume, completely getting rid of most of it. I stopped watching TV shows altogether in high school. I have gone through many seasons of stripping back my life from anything that wasn’t helpful to my walk with Jesus—everything from certain food, music, movies, YouTube videos, etc. This is how the Lord led me to obey Him, the cross I carried. (Also, how I started reading!)

I have been in a constant state of getting rid of everything in my life that led to sin for a long time. And that is good. I can testify I have never felt closer to the Lord because of it. Eternal life, knowing Jesus, is the richest gift. I don’t even have words to explain the peace I have experienced from saying no to things.

At the same time, I remember one morning a few months back I was making my bed, and I told God:

“I feel like I have been in a constant state of fasting for years. And I am miserable.”

The lines I drew long ago that freed me now made me miserable. The joy that Jesus promised in Scripture became non-existent. Obedience was a tightrope I was going to fall off of. I developed a great fear of disobeying God, so I obeyed Him as hard as I could.

The religious boundaries protected me in my early years following Jesus. They were important and necessary. However, after praying in the movie theater bathroom, I realized God is leading me to trust Him in a way I never knew before.

Jesus prayed this for us in John 17:

I do not pray that You should take them out of the world, but that You should keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them by Your truth. Your word is truth. As You sent Me into the world, I also have sent them into the world.

Christians are not meant to be taken out of the world to live on a holy island away from all darkness (although this would be nice). We are to learn how to stand for truth in the arena of this world—through being connected to God’s love. In other words, how to live faithfully while staring at evil in the face. The tightrope of obedience becomes a wide open field. How do we live what we believe in the world?

I am learning I need to introduce new foods into my spiritual diet to strengthen me. The Odyssey is one of them, to my surprise. I am only beginning to step my toe into the world of Homer. I have a lot of thoughts here. I would love to hear your thoughts as well.

Paul in Athens

Now while Paul waited for them at Athens, his spirit was provoked within him when he saw that the city was given over to idols. Therefore he reasoned in the synagogue with the Jews and with the Gentile worshipers, and in the marketplace daily with those who happened to be there. Then certain Epicurean and Stoic philosophers encountered him. And some said, “What does this babbler want to say?”

Others said, “He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign gods,” because he preached to them Jesus and the resurrection.

And they took him and brought him to the Areopagus, saying, “May we know what this new doctrine is of which you speak?

— Acts 17:16-19

Christopher Nolan’s dumb phone

I watched an interview with Christopher Nolan on Jimmy Fallon and enjoyed this conversation:

Jimmy: I heard that there are no cell phones allowed on a Christopher Nolan set and furthermore Christopher Nolan doesn’t own a smart phone and doesn’t have an email address.

Christopher: True

…

Jimmy: Are you tempted to get a smartphone?

Christopher: I have a flip phone, a dumb phone when I travel. I think I would be horribly addicted to it if I had it and I would lose those pockets of time that I really value where you are just thinking. Looking out the window and thinking about what your next film might be.

I want to value pockets of time to think. A lot can happen there.

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

The word of God doesn’t stop the ticking clock of time. It stops me.

It stops me from running a race of anxious toil I was never meant to be in. A race that leads to no destination; only more money, more stuff, and more things that fill my life but never fill me.

It is a painful thing to feel as if one day is a thousand years. Yet all God sees is a thousand years of work being accomplished in one day.

As I stare at His words, all I can see is the clock moving—so slow—as I wait for times to change.

The puzzle.

I don’t know if there is greater frustration than when someone tells you to just trust God.

What do you mean by trusting God? What do I do? How do I know I am trusting God? How do I trust God when my emotions are raging and my circumstances are spiraling? How do I find God where He is nowhere to be found?

The ambition for greater efficiency fuels our economy. The elimination of time appears innovative, but gives us a false sense of control. It teaches us that we don’t need God. We can do it ourselves. We are the masters of our lives.

The removal of time leads to the belief that when we experience friction, there is something wrong. We must remove all hindrance that stops the curation of our lives. Friction is bad. Ease is good.

It is easier to spend our time and money to find solutions than to trust God. It is quicker to ask AI for answers than to ask God for His answer. We work our lives away for money to solve our problems. Our work becomes a distraction from fear.

The tragic result is a life without God. Our economy has built an idol out of efficiency and quick fixes. And our entire world is bowing to it.

We are crippled by our inability to wait.

The Lord lets us exhaust ourselves in search of answers. He lets us spend our days and nights trying to put the puzzle together. But in His great mercy, after we have exhausted all options, we find the real answer we have been looking for all along.

We find Jesus.

Trusting God is waiting for Him.

The ax.

If the ax is dull, and one does not sharpen the edge, then he must use more strength; but wisdom brings success. (Ecclesiastes 10:10)

I am learning how to sharpen my ax in prayer—to sit and sharpen my faith through the repetitive motion of staring at words on paper. To meditate on God’s word day and night.

Meditation feels like you are sitting on a rock in the forest of this world, while everyone around you is working. While you are sitting, staring at words on paper and copying them on another piece of paper, everyone’s pile of wood is growing much larger than yours. They are making more progress in life than you are. They can sell more wood and make more money.

Am I trusting God? As I sit here sharpening my ax, I am losing time I could be cutting down trees. How foolish.

Perhaps, waiting for God isn’t idleness—it’s wisdom.

The poor wise man.

This wisdom I have also seen under the sun, and it seemed great to me: There was a little city with few men in it; and a great king came against it, besieged it, and built great snares around it. Now there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the city. Yet no one remembered that same poor man.

Then I said:

“Wisdom is better than strength.
Nevertheless the poor man’s wisdom is despised,
And his words are not heard.
Words of the wise, spoken quietly, should be heard
Rather than the shout of a ruler of fools.
Wisdom is better than weapons of war;
But one sinner destroys much good.”

— Ecclesiastes 9:13-18

Wisdom is better than weapons of war.

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Note organization.

Let’s talk about it.

I spent a good amount of this week looking through my notes from the last 3 years. This would have been easy if my notes were on a couple of Google docs, but unfortunately my note collection consists of almost 500 text files and zero folders (also what my brain looks like).

I have tried to type up my handwritten journal entries as I go so I have a digital archive, but there are still many I haven’t gotten to yet. These journals sit on my bookshelf, awaiting their turn to be electronically filed, hopefully into folders.

What to do with these notes.

This has been my current project: to forge these notes into art. There is a time to observe and record, to witness and behold the works of others, and then there is a time you have to put your hand to the plow and do something with it. This Substack is my diary of “doing something with it”. Actually creating is messy, monotonous, and more painstaking than marveling at finished work. This is the process of discovery.

I listened to an interview with Ken Burns, a renowned American filmmaker, who released his documentary about America’s role in the Holocaust. He shared this on storytelling:

We don’t make films on subjects we know about and then tell you what we know. Last time I checked that’s called homework. We would rather show you our process of discovery.

The process of discovery.

This phrase has followed me in my creative endeavors. I have always been intimidated when it comes to digging deeper into theology or history or politics or literature or other topics dominated by smart people. What do I have to add?

While I won’t become an expert, one thing I can do is be curious. To learn how to ask good questions. Not to learn how to speak, but learn how to listen. To approach subjects, not to become an expert, but to delight in the pursuit of understanding them. This, I imagine, is much more enjoyable than becoming an expert. The boundary lines are nowhere to be found in curiosity. Only wide open fields and an endless treasury of ideas to explore.

The relationships you cultivate during the process of discovery are the greatest part. Instead of meeting up with people to tell them what you know, you get to ask questions. You get to sit back, ponder ideas, and have meaningful discussions expanding the borders of understanding. You go from trying to prove a point to caring about the person in front of you—valuing their life experiences, what they love, and who they are.

This is the kind of discovery I want to pursue. The relational fun kind.

It is exciting—but also has given me creative paralysis staring at my large pile of physical and digital notes. What art can be created from these scribbles of Scriptures, prayers, quotes, diary entries, and stick figure drawings? What are the common threads that run through them? Where do I start? Also, what am I discovering?

A few months back, I laid in my bed unable to fall asleep. It was impossible to quiet my mind from the swarm of responsibilities that felt like they were eating me alive. Instead of sleeping, I was strategically planning on my pillow how I was going to accomplish all of these tasks the next day. It was tormenting—eating the bread of anxious toil—as Solomon would describe it.1

Eventually I got so frustrated and knew I wasn’t going to sleep any time soon. I got out of my bed and cried to God, praying on my floor.

Then came a strange idea. I got out brown wrapping paper I had in my closet and cut a large piece off. I taped it to my wall and began ripping pages out of my recent journals—specifically notes on a couple of themes that made my heart burn with excitement.

Page by page I tore out and taped on my wall. I saw for the first time that God has inspired this patchwork of words on my heart for months (and years). As my mind was concerned with fears and a to-do list that got longer the more I crossed off, God was still working through my journal pages I wrote each morning.

It was now well into the night and I had to get up in a few hours. My heart settled enough to go to sleep, but there was one last thing I needed to do.

I grabbed a fat black marker, a piece of white cardstock, and wrote the following:

“MANUSCRIPT”

I set the marker down and went to sleep.

This is the beginning of my book.2

Current reads.

I finished Tolstoy’s War and Peace a few weeks ago. My mom asked if it was worth the months it took me to read it. I confidently responded, “Yes. Worth every minute.” It was incredible. I read most of it in 30-minute intervals before I went into work. I plopped on my couch, put in my earbuds, and enjoyed a digest of guerrilla warfare and Russian dinner parties before I hit the office.

Out of the 500+ characters in the novel, my favorite one was old General Kutuzov. My favorite interactions with him were in military briefings, where he sat and listened to the opinions of all the young officers pitching their ideas to the seasoned general. Instead of lording his wisdom and experience over the room, he listened to them.

Check out these quotes (from Volume III, Part II, Chapter 16).

Kutuzov’s conversation with Prince Andrey (a young officer):

“Everything falls into place for the man who knows how to wait,” he said, quoting the French proverb.

Taking fortresses is easy enough, the hard part is winning the war. And you don’t get that by storming and attacking - what you need are time and patience.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” he said, with no answer forthcoming from Prince Andrey. “I’ll tell you what to do, and what I do. When in doubt, my friend” - he paused - “hold back.” He said this in French, slowly, syllable by syllable.

Descriptions of Kutuzov’s leadership:

The more clearly he [Prince Andrey] registered the absence of all personal interest in this old man, who seemed to have reduced himself to going through the motions of old passions, and he had replaced an active mind capable of organizing things and coming to conclusions with a capacity for calm contemplation as events unfolded, the more confident he felt that everything would work out as it should.

…he’ll listen to everybody and miss nothing, he’ll put things in their proper places, he won’t get in the way of anything useful or allow anything that might do any harm. He knows there is something stronger and more important than his will - the inexorable march of events - and he has the knack of watching events and seeing what they mean, and when he sees what they mean he knows how to stand back from them and redirect his will somewhere else.

Bible reads.

Psalm 623

Truly my soul silently waits for God;
From Him comes my salvation.
He only is my rock and my salvation;
He is my defense;
I shall not be greatly moved.

How long will you attack a man?
You shall be slain, all of you,
Like a leaning wall and a tottering fence.
They only consult to cast him down from his high position;
They delight in lies;
They bless with their mouth,
But they curse inwardly. Selah

My soul, wait silently for God alone,
For my expectation is from Him.
He only is my rock and my salvation;
He is my defense;
I shall not be moved.
In God is my salvation and my glory;
The rock of my strength,
And my refuge, is in God.

Trust in Him at all times, you people;
Pour out your heart before Him;
God is a refuge for us. Selah

Surely men of low degree are a vapor,
Men of high degree are a lie;
If they are weighed on the scales,
They are altogether lighter than vapor.
Do not trust in oppression,
Nor vainly hope in robbery;
If riches increase,
Do not set your heart on them.

God has spoken once,
Twice I have heard this:
That power belongs to God.
Also to You, O Lord, belongs mercy;
For You render to each one according to his work.

Proverbs 6:20-22

My son, keep your father’s command,
And do not forsake the law of your mother.
Bind them continually upon your heart;
Tie them around your neck.
When you roam, they will lead you;
When you sleep, they will keep you;
And when you awake, they will speak with you.

I pray for grace to learn how to wait, listen, and delight in the process of discovery.

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Greetings.

I apologize for the striking image to begin this new chapter but I thought there wasn’t a more fitting expression to capture my life’s journey. I found this picture while going through old files on my laptop. It was named “beauty.jpg” and definitely taken on my mom’s Canon pocket camera she used to carry around.

Where do I begin. I quit my office job recently.

This is what has pulled me away from writing on Substack the last 6 months. I have still been writing—I have probably written more in the last 6 months than I ever have. But I haven’t posted it, mostly because the tone is equivalent to David’s Psalms of Lament and I don’t think it’s smart to put all of that on the internet in real time. But I am going through the archives to pull out the gold for later.

Between one chapter ending and the next one beginning, I find it interesting that I return to the same things I did as a kid during the summer.

I create.

My middle school summer endeavors were making YouTube videos, writing blog posts, graphic design, and photography. My days were spent at my family’s desktop computer in the kitchen, downloading questionable free editing software, and teaching myself how to use it. I had a wide range of interests and ran 5 YouTube channels simultaneously to prove it. Everything from Minecraft to American Girl dolls to green screen music videos of me lip syncing.

In my recent life ponderings, I remember how much fun I had making things with zero return on investment other than my personal enjoyment. This is the beauty of creating. You do it because it’s fun. My childhood creative portfolio is some of my favorite work for no other reason than it showcased what I loved.

My interests have matured. I don’t remember my Minecraft password and have no place to keep my American Girl dolls in my apartment so they have sadly retired to a tub in my parents’ basement. But I am returning to my middle school love of creating things, which leads to the following announcement:

Introducing Black Coffee

IN THE UPCOMING is now Black Coffee.

I decided to change the name of my Substack to commemorate this new chapter. It originated from my morning delight of drinking black coffee while reading my checkbook Bible. But it also captures the bitter delight of following Jesus.

It is bitterly delightful to pursue the narrow path. The cross that crucifies and saves. We live in the crushing age of denying ourselves to carry our cross. But we also live in the glorious delight of not living for ourselves and discovering the beauty of who God is.

I had fun this past month filling my journal with doodles, scribbles, and ideas for Black Coffee.

As I wrote in my last newsletter, the Lord has used reading and history to consecrate my time. Deeper than that, history is teaching me how to walk in sobriety knowing what the generations before me went through. You can’t read of past sufferings and not be utterly grateful. When gas prices go up, all I think about is: “This is nothing compared to what it could be.”

Reading instead of scrolling began as discipline, but now I see it as deliverance from a life focused on me and curating the life I want. Reading history helps me engage with what happened in the world and what is happening right now. Plus, it’s incredibly interesting. I even started reading novels, which have added to my enjoyment.

This Substack is dedicated to deliverance from algorithms and returning to books. It is for the old men out there who want to slow down as the world speeds up, return to real human relationships, conversations about good books, and think deeply again.

Expect in the days to come many more handwritten notes, quotes, and stick-figure drawings.

I will see where the lamp in front of me leads, and take you along the way.

Epilogue

for the homies who made it to the end:

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

As the world speeds up with war cries, controversies, and conspiracies—
You slow down with truth.

The truth that protects, guards, and keeps you as you keep it. 

The world yells at you that you are going the wrong way. 

That's how you know you are doing it right.

I drew this picture on Valentine’s Day. I sat on my couch with my books, dreaming of love, while simultaneously drowning in literature and overtime. My studio apartment is becoming more like a library the older I get. Just how my coffee is becoming more black the older I get.

Most of the books I read nowadays are as thick as they are depicted in my drawing. I am almost done with War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, and reading it simultaneously with War of the World by Niall Ferguson, which unpacks the decline of Western civilization over the course of the 20th century. The shelf above my TV that I never turn on is where The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich sits, waiting for me to pick it back up after the months I have forsaken it to read War and Peace.

I have never been a reader.

Growing up, I didn’t just not read; I hated reading. For every project in high school that required reading I chose either The Hunger Games or Divergent because I refused to read anything new. I could quote those books from memory, so writing a paper was a piece of cake. I was content with being an average student, taking the test, and moving on. But this changed when I was 19. God called me somewhere I never imagined for myself.

The library.

I grew up with access to unlimited media. If I were to calculate the number of hours I spent on Instagram during my teenage years, I swear it would amount to half of my adolescence. I watched more Netflix TV shows and YouTube travel vloggers than I’d like to admit. All of my free time was spent online.

After high school, I decided not to go to college. Because I hated math. And reading. And that’s what college is. Math and reading.

When I was 19, I rented a bedroom in a house with 4 other girls and worked part-time at a coffee shop up the street. When I got off work, I plopped on my bed and scrolled on my phone until it was dinner time.

I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was working and being a productive member of my local coffee-loving community. I wasn’t doing drugs or drinking alcohol. I was still pursuing Jesus with all I had, waking up before dawn to read my Bible and going to prayer meetings.

But following Jesus is more than deliverance from obvious sin. It is freedom to be who God made us to be, which is more than the bare minimum. It is more than working for a paycheck and spending all evening watching reels. He gives us interests we love and He uses them to bless other people.

One afternoon, as I plopped on my bed after work, I felt conviction about my time. I had a sour feeling in my stomach, disgusted with the way I spent the second half of my days into the evening. More than anything, scrolling on my phone wasn’t real rest. It was fake rest that gave me the satisfaction of resting but without any of its benefits. Like how drinking a milkshake will fill your stomach and give you pleasure but it doesn’t benefit you at all.

From that sour day on, I felt the call of God thunder from the heavens, like a lightning bolt that struck my complacent heart and awoke me from slumber.

I needed to buy a Kindle.

That will help me read more books. I jumped on my parents’ Amazon Prime account and ordered myself a Kindle with my $7 an hour+tips salary. The next day I downloaded a few Christian books I wanted to read.

10 minutes into reading on my new device of divine intervention, I fell asleep. The device that was supposed to awaken me from my slumber actually bore me to sleep everyday. My prayer became something like: “God, I love you. But all I do is read the Bible and read books about the Bible.” I needed another interest to invest myself in.

That is when my second answer to prayer came thundering in—I’ll cut to the point.

God gave me a desire for history, specifically war history.

It is a strange interest considering I am a five-foot-one woman who never watched an actual war movie in her life and hardly knew the difference between World War I and World War II. I started with Band of Brothers (the best) followed by Dick Winter’s war memoir. I dug into the Holocaust—reading The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom, a biography on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and The Priest Barracks, which I found browsing at the library.

I began to see how the study of history complemented my studies of the Bible. I saw that God is in history. God is the author of history. He is so intimately involved, even in its darkest moments. My life became enriched by reading the stories of other people and trying to understand the generations that came before me.

I wish I could say I threw my phone out the window after this and never looked back, but I still found myself spending afternoons and evenings scrolling on my phone. God gave me the answer I needed, but I had to make the effort to keep choosing it.

Reels found me on every platform. I kept social media for a while to use in moderation, but I always went back to using it without moderation. Every 20-minute time limit I set, I increased it by 15 minutes until I ignored it entirely. I deleted Instagram and then I replaced it with Facebook. I deleted Facebook and went back to YouTube. I got rid of YouTube, now I’m on Pinterest. The scrolling problem continued no matter where I went.

“If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.” (Matt. 5:29-30)

Like a dog who returns to its vomit (me), I reached the conclusion I needed to get rid of social media entirely. Whenever I felt lonely—scrolling. Whenever I felt bored—scrolling. Whenever I felt stressed—scrolling.

Detaching from social media took years.

The bottom line was I needed to “tear it out and throw it away.” Especially since most of my adolescence was spent scrolling, my brain literally needs rewiring to learn how to rest. Luckily, God is surely able to do this.

I will be turning 24 this year.

I am still answering the same call I heard in my bedroom that sour afternoon. My love for history has only grown, and God has used it to connect me with so many people I wouldn’t otherwise have anything in common with. Now, I volunteer at a war museum to talk to other people who read the same books I do and hear the untold stories of veterans I meet. It feels like the greatest honor. When I walked up to the museum one day, I heard in my mind, “Remember those who have carried their cross.”

My life feels rich with meaning since disconnecting from social media.

After I quit curating the life I wanted on my newsfeed, I could start living the life I have. And be grateful for it.

There is a cost to pursuing wisdom and knowledge. I don’t find many people my age who choose the library over the bars, but one thing I know for sure is that I have never felt so close to Jesus as I have meeting Him through the written word. He is the Word of God.

Before I eat a meal, I pray: “Thank you, Lord, that men cannot live on bread alone, but by every word that comes from your mouth.” I read Scripture while I eat if I am alone.

There are a lot of perks to a literary life. Like I know that I am becoming older and wiser and not older and dumber. I went to a lecture on George Washington last week after I got off work. There is nothing else I would rather do. God frees us from lesser things—not to make us miserable—but because He knows we will love what He gives us so much more.

I wish I had known in high school that it was never about the test at the end of the unit. It was about learning how to think. The process of discovery. I have a new ambition to devote my twenties (and beyond) to the pursuit of truth.

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” —Moses (Ps. 90:12)

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

You deliver me from a life of building myself up
only to be torn down in your presence

I don’t like spending money on haircuts.

They are always expensive, and I only like them for approximately 3 days until I wash my hair and it returns to how it was before. To resolve my distaste for spending money on haircuts, I headed to the bathroom with scissors and a 5-minute YouTube tutorial on how to cut your own hair.

In the process, my mirror fell off the counter and shattered all over the floor.

I swept up all of the pieces. Except for one. That got stuck in my foot. I discovered it every once in a while when I walked. Its official discovery was during a run, in which I had to conclude the run early to return to my bathroom and find where the piece was in my foot.

I found it.

/

A few days later, I sat at my desk to spend time with Jesus.

I copy Bible verses in my journal while eating a bowl of oatmeal with oat milk. My mug of black coffee, now lukewarm, sits beside my journal.

These past couple of years

have been difficult. I have heard people say that your 20’s are the best years of your life, but if I am honest, I have not enjoyed my 20’s much so far. Relationships and careers and taxes and figuring out what a 401k is and wanting to do something great with your life. As the years start to pass, the longing for greatness fades into monotony.

The temptation to scroll or binge-watch your life away becomes more enticing, a distraction from the dullness and disappointment of your desires that seem will never be fulfilled. This leads to the popular young adult ambition of spending all of your time and money to make the life you want for yourself happen. Wandering from place to place, trying to find what you are looking for.

Then, surrender your life to Jesus, and add the tension of being called to holiness yet living in a wicked and perverse generation. No wonder it is easy to feel so lost during this period of your life.

I have felt great loneliness living between the life I want and the life God is calling me to.

Nevertheless, this tension is where I’ve met Jesus. I have felt challenged to surrender the life I want, for the life He wants.

/

There is no easy answer to any of these questions—but perhaps there is a simple one:

Jesus is Lord.

I started to understand this when God didn’t answer my prayers by the time I expected. The years started passing, and the same prayer requests never left my lips.

Now, you face one of life’s biggest questions on the narrow way: Will you trust God when He leads you where you don’t want to go?

Enter into the fire of maturing in your faith.

When God purges the shallow youth group faith out of you and makes it gold.

I feel like I am being tested in the wilderness like Jesus, but instead of responding to the devil with the truth of God’s word, I am listening to the accusations.

The accusations of always being alone, not doing enough, never knowing enough, and the fear of losing time. Father, I give you my strength. I can’t do it. I can’t obey you any further. I can’t conform myself into the image of the cross. Lord, what do I do now?

My Christmas break

was spent seeking the Lord in much prayer, contemplation, and tears regarding these ideas. Social media feeds us the candy of white-picket-perfection, only to make us sick when we realize the truth of the narrow way in Scripture.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,” says the crucified King of Glory, forever bearing the scars that brought us eternal life.1

As I long to chase the fairytale, Christ chased obedience to the Father. Obedience that led Him to the gardens at Golgotha to sweat blood and drink the cup that He didn’t want to drink.

Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.2

/

Every piece of shattered mirror
Is a dream of mine
I cherished for many years
Now shattered
Beyond repair

I try to pick up the pieces
And put them back together
But when I do
I cut myself

Now I sit on my tile floor
Surrounded with broken pieces
Bleeding hands
Falling tears
The tears of trusting God

I see Jesus walking into my bathroom
Seeing the mess
The mess He made
The mess I try to clean up
Only to make it worse

He leans down and grabs my hand
Dripping red
Lifting me off my tile floor

/

He leads me to our meeting place
My bedroom desk

Stacks of books
Used pens with no ink
An empty bowl of oatmeal

He hands me a mirror
A mirror of old
The mirror of His word

The mirror of the Son

He hands me a new journal
And a new pen
One my Father bought me

“It’s time to write a new story,” He said.

A story not born out of ambition
But a story born out of beholding

It is frustrating following Jesus, knowing that you can spend a lifetime trying to be the best person you possibly can, only to stand before a King where none of that matters.

The end is His Kingdom come, where the poor are the most blessed.

I am slowly understanding the freedom of not chasing after my dreams, but chasing after Jesus. He will lead me to places I don’t want to go. There is a portion of suffering I will eat in this life, just like He did. There is tension on the narrow way I must endure.

But this is where Jesus is found.

During Christmas 2025, I received the gift of a new mirror I didn’t know I needed.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him,

“Follow me.”3

Epilogue:

I know you were waiting for me to talk about my failure in giving myself my own haircut. I am here to report that I did not make any grave mistakes cutting my own hair. My hair turned out pretty good. Here is the link to the tutorial I used.

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.1

1. the dump truck

As the seasons change, so do we.

This week was saturated with rain and dark clouds, going to work in the dark, and coming home in the dark. As I write this, I am sitting on my couch with the sun finally shining again. I am waiting for my bread to rise and preparing for a few friends coming over for dinner tonight. I am making challah bread for the first time.

I spent the morning typing up my weekly journal entries. I try to do this often so my writing doesn’t become lost in books I’ll never read again. I have a digital database using Obsidian of all my journal entries since 2023. I try to label the notes the best I can since I have so many. Most of the time they are only titled with the date, but some are inspiring like this one:

As much as I would love to share with you the “dump truck of worries” I gave God, I am going to share from this note instead:

This title comes from a quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Bonhoeffer is one of my favorite martyrs from history to learn from. He was a German pastor and theologian who labored for the church during Nazi occupation. While Hitler and his cronies redefined scripture to promote their racist ideology, Bonhoeffer rallied the confessing church to be faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“What is at stake is by no means whether our German members of congregations can still tolerate church fellowship with the Jews. It is rather the task of Christian preaching to say: here is the church, where Jew and German stand together under the Word of God; here is the proof whether a church is still the church or not.”2

In the thick of Hitler’s rule, Bonhoeffer decided to take young ordinands to a remote location and learn how to live out the Sermon on the Mount3. In times of war, he chose discipleship. Many, if not most, of his students died later in battle.

He has a lot of beautiful theological writing, on topics such as the distinction between “cheap grace” and “costly grace”. However, his writing that has impacted me the most is when he talks about his inner wrestle of following Jesus.

I relate to it.

Christianity that is prosperity and life abundant does not come without the crushing work of the cross bearing upon your life. A gospel divorced from the cross is powerless to save. There is no discipleship without the cross.

On the outside, it looked like the Father was leading Jesus in the wrong direction. This was evident in Peter who was offended that the Lamb would be led to the slaughter.4

Bonhoeffer describes surrendering to God as becoming His prisoner, chained to His victory chariot:

“Prisoners do not wear fancy clothes; they wear chains. Yet with those chains we glorify the victorious one who is advancing through the world, through all humankind. With our chains and ragged clothes and the scars we must bear, we praise the one whose truth and love and grace are glorified in us. . . . The triumphal procession of truth and justice, of God and the gospel, continues through this world, pulling its captives after it in the wake of the victory chariot.”5

Discipleship looks like something. In this age, I think it looks more like chains, ragged clothes, and scars until the day of resurrection.

2. the strength of weakness

After so long with God, I feel like He has left me broken and undone. But isn’t it like God to strip us of our ourselves so we are all the more dependent on Him? Isn’t it just like God to reveal my weakness for the promise of His strength?

I wish I could come out of this fire strong and beautiful. All I got is battle scars and tired eyes—but eyes that have seen the King. My flesh and heart fail but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Psalm 73:26

Humility is called weakness in this world. The word of God teaches that humility is our strength.

Jesus is building an army of Lambs.

3. a quote worth writing down

“If we have learned to be silent before the word, we shall also learn to manage our silence and our speech during the day.”

“There is a wonderful power of clarification, purification, and concentration upon the essential thing in being quiet.”6

4. challah

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.1

1. classical music

While I was working I turned on some background music. I listened to worship music for a while and then flipped to something more upbeat.

Techno beats still weren’t satisfying my mood so I turned on classical music for the remainder of the day. I went from electronic dance music to Beethoven.

The piano keys filled me with peace and simultaneous boredom. There is no “pumping myself up” listening to Beethoven (unless you get really into it). I sat and concentrated on my work.

I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge and then poured it out in the sink because I remembered that I don’t like Diet Coke anymore.

There is a sobriety I feel when listening to classical music.

I find that when I try to run from boredom, I still end up there anyway. As humans, we crave energy that comes from consumption. But the Bible teaches us that instead of consuming more to go further, we actually need to learn how to rest.

Rest is how we go further.

/

There was a period of time when the Lord was convicting me that I needed to replace my screen time with reading books. My internal dialogue with God went something like this.

Me: I am reading books but I fall asleep every time I read them.

God: That is what rest is. Sleeping.

I am ashamed to say it, but these are my eye-opening revelations in prayer. Sleep is rest. Falling asleep reading books is better than drinking more caffeine.

2. small bibles

I love small Bibles. I do have good eyesight so that helps my love for small Bibles. There is something about tangibly carrying God’s word with me that reminds me that man cannot live on bread alone. I carry my checkbook Bible in my purse everywhere I go.

I used to carry my big Bible with me. When it made my back hurt because my purse was so heavy I told myself the pain was a reminder of carrying my cross. Although noble, I have found that downsizing my Bible was the way to go.

I have the Bible app on my phone, but in the back of my mind I think about possible scenarios where my phone won’t work anymore and I need God’s word on paper. No download or battery is needed for me. Only above-average eyesight to read my small bible of choice.

The elevators in my office building break down frequently so I also plan for the day I get stuck in there to be thoroughly entertained with my checkbook Bible, journal, and the people that are stuck in there with me. I’ll keep you updated.

/

Last year for my birthday, I visited the World War I museum. They had an exhibit about army chaplains. It showcased how Catholic priests, Jewish rabbis, and even Latter-day Saints ministered to soldiers at the frontlines. The chaplains were decorated with awards like any other soldier—hosting church services in trenches, carrying stretchers, and ministering comfort.

There was a showcase of small Bibles that were given to soldiers. At the brink of death, their pockets and hearts contained words that will remain after this world passes away. My parents found a print of one of the posters that I have hanging on my bedroom wall. I look at it every day.

The light of the cross illuminates his face in the dark. Death reminds you what is worth living for. I want to live in light of my death, just like a soldier, and cling to what matters most. My small Bible reminds me of this call.

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.2

3. slowing down

It is time to slow down. To take the long way home. The way the world says not to take. The ancient way of fasting, prayer, and meditating. The way of discipleship that requires bearing one another’s burdens. Listening to people for hours and reading books for hours. The way of inconvenience. The way of foolish obedience and preaching the foolish cross.

As the world speeds up with war cries, controversies, and conspiracies—

Slow down with truth.

The truth that protects, that guards, and that keeps you as you keep Him.

Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.3

Until He comes,

Ava

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

I was talking to a lady much older than me this past week. We discussed the constellations in the sky, David meditating on God’s creation in the book of Psalms, and her favorite books (her recommendation was Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl). We had differing beliefs, but came together in our love for Jesus.

At the end of our time together, she looked at me and said, “I hope you find what you are looking for.”

As I recalled our conversation, my heart filled with gratitude.

I have already found what I am looking for.

The summer before 8th grade.

My family was walking through the fire—losing a job, cancer diagnosis, selling our home, etc. I had loved Jesus before, but my faith had never been tested.

I spent all of my days in my bedroom that summer. At night, I cried to Hillsong’s Empires album and read the Bible. In the morning, I discovered my love for writing and began writing blog posts on my $100 Acer laptop. I wrote about what God was revealing to me. My parents shared my blog posts on their Facebook page.

I realized my faith was real. It wasn’t just a belief in my head or a religion my family observed. The concrete of God’s word began to solidify in my heart.

I didn’t know it at the time, but those long days and nights of hiding away in the presence of God formed the deepest part of who I am.

Fast forward to

Sophomore year of high school.

I woke up 10 minutes early to read my Bible. The quiet moments of drinking my latte full of Hershey’s chocolate syrup before dawn began a new chapter of my life:

Meeting Jesus before the sun rises.

If I believed in magic, meeting Jesus before the sun rose was it. This is where I came alive.

I worked at a movie theatre the following summer. I sold popcorn and tickets, and then cleaned up the popcorn I sold off the floor afterwards. I worked all evening so I got to spend all morning with Jesus.

My 10 minutes before school turned into multiple hours during the summer. I read my Bible, wrote in my journal, and drew little pictures. There was no one leading me or showing me what to do. I had no reading plan, structure, or commentary. All I had was curiosity and wonder as I dug through the pages.

One day, I realized that I had started reading the book of Acts so many times but never got to the end. So naturally, I opened to the last Bible verse in Acts and read the book backwards to the beginning.

There was another day I wanted to read about the life of David. In one day. So I sat at my bedroom desk all day long and read straight through David’s life in one sitting. I didn’t retain all I read, but I was definitely more familiar with David by the end.

Junior year of high school.

I had an online class first thing in the morning. I spent first block at a coffee shop with my Bible and vanilla latte.

I was so deep in my Bible studies one morning that I asked my mom if she could call me out of my second block class so I could stay there longer with Jesus.

She said yes. (I love my mom)

I walked around the hallways of my public school and saw that my Bible studies went beyond me. I realized the world is searching for the truth that I had found. Culture preaches counterfeit truth that is so complicated, confusing, painful, and dark. There is no peace or order when you live in a world centered around you, money, entertainment, and pleasure.

The truth I found in the word of God brought me tremendous peace from a young age. The Bible gave my life order. I found real healing and love inside. I could be in a room by myself where no one knows where I am or what I am doing—and feel so found by God. Just like that summer before 8th grade.

The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. I wanted to dwell with Him.

Now, I drink my coffee black.

I go to work in the morning and come home in the evening to my one-bedroom apartment. I make myself dinner and do my own dishes. I pay taxes now and read books about Nazi Germany for fun. I still write blog posts (hello) that my parents still share on their Facebook page.

My mornings with God, fueled with Hershey’s chocolate syrup, have ended.

The bliss in God’s presence never ended, but the call to follow Jesus became impossible to fulfill in my strength. To go deeper in God required surrendering everything I thought I needed. My morning time with Jesus went from sitting in my desk chair to lying on my bedroom floor. Maturity meant greater desperation.

The more understanding I gained in God’s word, the more the cross started bearing upon my life. The narrow road got narrower. The deeper I went, the louder the call became. My faith had to extend beyond my mind and my bedroom, and confront every part of my life.

It was time to trade my dreams for God’s dreams.

I couldn’t go out into the world and make for myself the life I wanted. My nights realistically looked like staying inside and crying on my bedroom floor—in faith that God’s way was better. The Lord had to take preeminence over my relationships, food I ate, media I consumed, and ambitions I pursued.

Some may say this is “religious” and such lengths of self-denial are unnecessary, but I greatly disagree. God made it very clear to me that to follow Him required deliberate decisions of saying no.

But as I read in the life of David, his years of following God were full of tears, too.

“As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, ‘Where is your God?’” (Ps. 42:1-3)

Maturing as a disciple is difficult. It is the discipline of a father who loves his son. It is eating vegetables and drinking water in a world of fat and rich foods.

“Understanding is walking in sobriety in a drunken world. It is like being the only sober person at a party and you stand there, aware and competent, and it is not fun. This is what has been bearing on my life since high school. It is no longer a pursuit of running care free but seeing the world and what’s around you as it is.”

—My journal, September 2025

Although the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, what keeps me going is that my relationship with Jesus is so real. I would never trade my faith being tested for a surface-level understanding of God that knows the truth but lives so far from Him.

To me, Jesus isn’t a religious concept and His teachings aren’t a suggestion. The cross is not a symbol I wear, but an ever-present burden I bear by His grace that holds me. It is both crushing and glorious to see God rightly.

We live in the age of the cross. The cross that delivers us from sin so we can live by faith in the Son of God. We get to serve Him by the new and living way of His Spirit, who enables us to answer the impossible call.

I go from crying on my bedroom floor to dancing in my bedroom mirror. As hard as it is to choose life in a world of death, I am grateful for the bitter cup. The cup that opens my eyes to see.

Here’s to our faith being tested. And our faith becoming real.

Until He comes,

Ava

P.S. In light of reminiscing about my high school days, enjoy a video of high school Ava:

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

The church advances through bloodshed.

We see through the book of Acts that persecution and the threat of martyrdom drove the gospel out of Jerusalem. The apostles could have stayed in one place if they weren’t subject to constant threats, imprisonments, and beatings.

God’s marketing strategy for the gospel to go to the ends of the earth is using broken individuals who have discovered the worth of the cross. They display that worth through carrying their own cross and following Jesus wherever He takes them.

The world will see the worth of the cross by the cost we are willing to pay for it.

I never knew much about Charlie Kirk. I heard his name before, but that is all I knew. I have stayed away from the mixture of Christianity and politics. But that has since changed.

I have devoured many hours of Charlie Kirk content in the past couple of weeks. I am captivated by his knowledge, boldness, personality, and the way he dealt with criticism. The fact that he didn’t go to college and dedicated his life to the Word of God, learning history, and building a family is nothing short of a rarity in this generation. His bluntness and strong convictions are inspiring. He knew what he believed. He knew not only how to stand for it, but how to communicate it.

I sat on my couch last Sunday for 5 hours straight and watched Charlie’s funeral service. I was astonished that God used Charlie’s political platform to bring much of our government administration to stand for Jesus.

One of my favorite quotes was from JD Vance:

“I was telling somebody backstage that I always felt a little uncomfortable talking about my faith in public as much as I love the Lord and as much as it was an important part of my life. I have talked more about Jesus Christ in the past 2 weeks than I have my entire time in public life.”

After his funeral service, I got on my knees and wept.

These are a few of my personal reflections recently:

1. Charlie’s death ignited the lukewarm areas of my heart.

Of course, I believed that abortion was bad and transgenderism was bad. But I never had the courage to boldly speak against the evil propagating our culture. I have mostly stayed silent, watching as my generation walks down a path of increasing darkness that has no end.

Watching countless videos of Charlie preaching a gospel that includes the judgment of sin and drawing clear lines of truth has put a fire in my bones.

I want to be educated. I want to spend my time listening to informative podcasts, reading books, and dedicating more hours to studying the Bible. I don’t want to sit down idly anymore in the name of not knowing enough facts. Plus, I now know I do not need a college degree to form my own educated opinions (thank you, Charlie).

I want to meditate on the Word of God day and night and be politically aware of what is happening in the world. I see the need to push back on darkness permeating our society.

2. God will offend our minds to reveal our hearts.

This is a song lyric by Rachel Morley that I love.

We want to proclaim that Jesus died on the cross to bear the punishment for our sins, and rose from the dead, so we too can be resurrected from the death of sin and have eternal life.

God’s vehicle, as we have seen, to bring a revived declaration of the gospel, is using politicians and bloodshed to ignite a movement of repentance across many spheres of our society.

In other words, there is nothing neat about what God does. Revival is messy, nuanced, and breaks all religious boxes we try to put God in. He uses people we don’t like and circumstances we don’t like. His leadership transcends our pretty religion and infiltrates the demonic streets of our world. That is what makes the gospel so brilliant—it blows our mind.

This is what Charlie lived out so well. He went into the hornet’s nest of college campuses to speak God’s word. He took the gospel out of our modest salvation prayers and proclaimed that Jesus is the truth in our world of lies. This is what my generation needs.

Boldness.

3. We need leaders who live out what they are saying.

Gen Z is not interested in theological doctrine. We need a demonstration of it. We need testimonies, stories of the faithfulness of God, and abiding fruit that is evident.

Charlie called young people higher. His advice was to get married, start a family, work hard, and go deep in God. He spoke boldly against pornography, hookup culture, and drinking alcohol. He encouraged to honor your parents, honor God, and observe the Sabbath. He didn’t listen to secular music.

There was nothing groundbreaking about anything Charlie said. But what made him a wonder is that he lived it. He called a generation up to Biblical standards instead of lowering the standard in the name of not being “judgmental”. He demonstrated that there is no separation between our Christian life and our daily life. They must be one and the same.

In conclusion,

I have much more processing and repenting in light of what God has shown me recently. This article is by no means intended to put Charlie on a pedestal—only to share my personal thoughts of how much I see Jesus through his life. I am inspired to go deeper in God’s word and on the narrow way.

I leave you with these Scriptures from Deuteronomy that I felt were fitting for this moment. It is time to draw a line in the sand and choose Life.

Thank you, Charlie.

“For this commandment that I command you today is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend to heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can do it. See, I have set before you today life and good, death and evil. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I command you today, by loving the Lord your God, by walking in his ways, and by keeping his commandments and his statutes and his rules, then you shall live and multiply, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to take possession of it.” (Deut. 30:11-16)

Links

• Charlie’s Memorial Service

• Charlie on modern dating, advice to young people

• Charlie on reading - “prioritize reading over beer pong”

• Charlie Kirk Show - Islam Against America

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Happy September.

It is transitioning to fall where I live (my favorite season). Every time the seasons change, I am enamored with creation moving on the schedule of God. The leaves know when to change colors and the animals know when to gather more food. I sit at my kitchen table and watch as nature’s color palette changes before my eyes.

I am reminded that as I sit and read God’s word, He changes me too. He prepares us for the seasons ahead (often without us knowing).

All of a sudden we wake up one morning and realize—I am not who I used to be.

He uses our monotonous routines, deadlines, and daily work to conform us into the image of His Son. He allows stress, struggles, and limited time to teach us that it is not enough to depend on our diligence and strategy but on Him alone. Our dependence keeps us close to Him.

The leaves outside my window are still green as I type this, but I know they won’t be for long. With a careful hand, the Lord will paint them new colors as the days pass. He does it steadily so we can see His progress. He is the master painter of seasons’ colors and the greatest conductor of creation’s songs.

Reading & notes from this week:

1. The Torah: the first five books of the Bible.

I have gone to church most of my life and have never felt personally moved by the Torah. I read Genesis like I am hearing stories at someone else’s family gathering. I have never been able to relate to them.

Exodus is cool until it loses me by chapter 21. I treat Leviticus like it’s forbidden for some reason. I don’t know if I have ever read Numbers. I cherry-pick the Scriptures I like out of Deuteronomy. I quote it here and there.

Since the beginning of summer, I have been reading the Torah with my church. They have a Torah class before service that accompanies the weekly readings.

My eyes have been opened.

I am starting to understand God’s family, Israel, for the first time—and how God chose one nation to bless all of the nations. I see how God saved a seat for me at His family’s table.

The table of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

I see the beauty in God’s divine order through the law. Whenever I read the rest of the Bible, all I see is the Torah repeated over and over again through new stories and new people. I relate to Jesus as Yeshua for the first time.

The Jewish-ness of the Bible feels restored in my heart and I can’t overlook the centrality of Israel anymore. I have read the Bible with me in the center for all of these years—when actually Jerusalem clearly is.

In a poem by David C. Mitchell he says this:

“Fragrant and fair are the flowers in the garden of God. 
Five ever-living redwoods there to support the sky: 
These are the Books of Moses upholding the world.”

I am pondering this.

2. The Song of Ascents (Ps. 120-134)

I’ve noticed God does this thing where the same topic shows up again and again. The Song of Ascents has been that for me lately. I will go on Substack and see the Song of Ascents. I read the Psalm after my favorite Psalm, and there begin the Song of Ascents. Sermons on the Song of Ascents. Podcasts on the Song of Ascents. I decided to take the hint from God and read the Song of Ascents.

To continue on the writings of David C. Mitchell, I discovered his work on a podcast I listened to this week.

He has a book about the Song of Ascents, going in depth on the period they were written in, how they were sung during the fall feast of Sukkot, and how they aren’t only historical during Solomon’s day but lead to the Messiah’s coming kingdom in the age the come. These songs will be sung again.

When I started to put Israel in the center of the story, the Bible made so much more sense. If you disregard Israel, you are pushing aside the apple of God’s eye and the very center of the prophetic Scriptures (Jerusalem).

God has inextricably knit Himself to the Jewish people. You can’t separate the two. If you do, you have to do theological gymnastics to reconcile much of God’s word, which means skipping over or replacing Israel with something else. You can’t deny the Jewish-ness of Jesus. You can’t deny the Jewish centrality of the Bible.

The focal point of the Word of God is Jerusalem. The city Jesus wept over. The city Jesus will return to—to take His place on Mount Zion (Ps. 2:6). Israel is the nation the kingdom of God will be restored to (Acts 1:6). God is very concerned with Israel’s prophetic destiny, clearly laid out in the book of Psalms (and all of Scripture).

3. “The mind does its own work. You sleep and you rise, you sleep and you rise, and things begin to connect.”

This was David Mitchell’s process of how God revealed the overarching themes in the Psalms to him. He read a couple of books alongside the Bible. Then he went to bed and got up again. Things began to connect.

I love this description. As we sleep and rise, doing normal human things, God brings revelation. The small puzzle pieces with blotches of color on them find their place in our hearts. The brilliance of God’s word is revealed through time and history. Days and nights.

There is no secret to understanding the Bible or God. There is only giving Him the pieces of our lives: our lunch break, before bed, when we lie on the couch after work, the doctor’s office waiting room, and early mornings we sit by our dim desk lights.

When we give God the pieces of our lives, He gives us His.

He gives us little treasures of who He is that we get to store away. These treasures will never rust and can never be taken by men. They are the glimmer in our eyes that people see when they talk to us. The glimmer of eternal hope.

Perhaps days, nights, months, and years of sitting at the table and eating God’s word could be the secret.

The leaves change and soon they fall. We look out the window and are reminded: as the seasons change, so do we.

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

I am learning how to slow down.

When I first started running a few years ago, I could barely run a mile. It would take everything in me to run for 10 minutes straight.

One evening when I came home from my exhausting 1-mile run, I had this revelation:

To run further, I need to run slower.

The next day, I went back to the gym and ran 2 miles straight for the first time. I felt like I unlocked a secret! Going slower enabled me to not feel like I was dying for the first time and I could start building endurance. Of course, my mile time was over 13 minutes, but it was a lot less miserable!

This week, the Lord reminded me to slow down once more.

Except not in my running, but in my life. I have been rushing in my Bible studies and my daily responsibilities. I go to bed with my mind racing and wake up all the same. I haven’t been able to sit down and read a book because I can’t quiet myself to sit long enough. And reading is so slow.

To run further, I must learn how to run slower.

Surrendering to God is a process. It is a compilation of saying yes to Jesus 100 small times each day. I wish surrender was always a moment we could give God everything and not look back, but often it is a fight. A lifetime of saying yes and wishing we said yes.

Just when I feel like I have reached the edge of surrender, with nothing left to give, the Holy Spirit leads me past the point of no return. I am led further than what I thought was possible. The edge of surrender is only the beginning.

Surrender is slow.

For me, it looks like lying on my apartment floor. No more “trying harder” or “becoming better”. There is only giving God the fragments of my strength and trusting Him to fulfill His purpose in my life.

The enemy reminds me that there are quicker ways than surrender. I only need to wake up earlier, be more disciplined, be at the right place at the right time, and have enough people know me. There are strategies that are much more “effective” than sitting on my apartment floor with tear-stained journal pages with Scriptures written on them. How foolish.

Surrender makes our mile times lengthen.

We will not be the first to cross the finish line and there will be a million others who have it down much better than we do.

The world goes faster when we go slower—but what prize do we win if we run without God? Or run ahead of Him?

There are no shortcuts. There is only one way, the narrow way.

Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him. An athlete is not crowned unless he competes according to the rules. (2 Tim. 2:3-5)

I found myself at work recently telling myself that I know God will come through. I know His word is the answer both in times of peace and war. It is not a medication that works right away, and neither does He promise that.

God’s word is a lamp.

His words lead us and guide us to the streams of water that refresh our souls. They hold us up when we are falling off the edge of surrender. They give us understanding that although the way is narrow, it is actually wide.

So as the world feels like it’s racing past me and going faster than I can keep up, I will meditate on your words. Although the way seems dark, I know I won’t fall. I can see where I am going.

I have a lamp.

In the process of learning how to slow down, the Lord has given me new ways to spend my time. Here are a few.

1. Check out movies from the library.

Flashback to when we went to Blockbuster to get movies.

I visited my local library and its large wall of DVDs. I found the section I was looking for—the documentaries. I wanted the kind of 2000s documentaries I watched in school on a big box TV with VHS tapes.

I found a National Geographic documentary on World War II. I plugged it into my laptop. It felt freeing to do something with limited options, like I gained control back over the media I consumed. There were no ads, no interruptions, just an informative historical documentary with real footage from the war.

In the past few years, God has given me an interest in learning war history. There is a lot to this story, but my interest is best summarized by a phrase I heard when I went to a Memorial Day ceremony this past May.

I heard the Lord whisper to me, “Remember those who have carried their cross.”

2. Write Scriptures out word for word.

The Bible tells us to write God’s word on our hearts. When I write Scriptures in my journal and on notecards, it feels like I am writing them on my heart. I have a journal where I copy chapters of the Bible word for word.

I found my greatest revelations from the Bible come when I quit trying to interpret it and just read it over and over again. Scripture was meant to be meditated on, not only read. This has been a fruitful practice in my life.

This week was one where I had to copy Matthew 11:28-30 over and over again. I might be insane, but I have this Scripture memorized very well now.

3. Read books.

A few books I am reading right now:

1. The Gospel of Christ Crucified: A Theology of Suffering Before Glory by John P. Harrigan.

This book is incredibly dense, but so eye-opening to see the prominence of the cross holding us together from Eden to eternity. If you need a new theology book, this one has been great so far. For the nerds, it has diagrams (like the one below).

2. The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by William L. Shirer

This is one of the most comprehensive accounts of Nazi Germany by historians. This, of course, builds on my war studies.

I asked the Lord this question a few years back: What do you do as a Christian when there is a Nazi parade outside of your window?

Do you stand on a rock and start preaching the gospel? Do you start an underground church? Do you continue to pastor your congregation when there are Nazi's sitting in the pews waiting to arrest you?

There are many stories from people who did all 3. Learning about the demonic ideology that fueled Nazi Germany feels like preparation leading up to the Lord’s return.

However, I did have a rude awakening when I bought the paper version of this book. I have been reading it on my Kindle and recently decided to order the paper version. I did not realize that this book is bigger than my head. I will probably be reading this until I am 94.

Comment book recs below and other ways to make life slower and less convenient. I’ll be at the library.

Until He comes,

Ava

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Perhaps, this is ministry to God.”

Good morning, sojourners. I hope you enjoy this messy piece of what I read this week, written with a few tears and laughs as I was putting it together.

This is what my desk looks like 100% of the time.

the beginning:

I was made to labor miles in the word of God, day and night. I was made to spend my mornings and evenings building storehouses of your words and reservoirs of living water deep in my heart.

My ambition is to build you a treasury inside of me. I want to melt down my riches in this age and sell them for the treasure of your words. I want the kingdom of God to be built within me, not through ideas but decisions.

I want to go to the trading post with a wheelbarrow of my possessions. It’s time to trade them for eternal ones.

what I read this week:

Psalm 101 and 104

“I will sing of steadfast love and justice; to you, O Lord, I will make music. I will ponder the way that is blameless. Oh when will you come to me? I will walk with integrity of heart within my house; I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. I hate the work of those who fall away; it shall not cling to me. A perverse heart shall be far from me; I will know nothing of evil.” (Ps. 101:1-4)

“Quit looking at worthless things,” I tell myself often.

In hopes to quit looking at worthless things, I decided to turn the color filter on my phone to black and white. Yes, the whole thing is black and white. No more green text messages or blue text messages. Only grey text messages.

I want to see how low I can get my screen time and I thought removing color would make everything less visually stimulating. I am glad to report that it works! I am no longer tempted to buy anything on Amazon because I can’t see the color of anything I want to buy. I also no longer aimlessly scroll through my camera roll because everything looks like it’s from the 1940s.

“I will look with favor on the faithful in the land, that they may dwell with me; he who walks in the way that is blameless shall minister to me.” (Ps. 101:6)

What is ministry to God?

Ministry is loving people by sharing the truth of God’s word. It is also loving people in deed by revealing the truth of God’s heart. Ministry to others is ministry to God.

Furthermore, we can also minister to God through our meditation.

I picture many of David’s Psalms being written as he is sitting in the fields of Bethlehem, thinking about God and His wonderful works. He stares at the stars in the sky and thinks about the numerous creatures of the earth.

“O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom have you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.” (Ps. 104:24)

“I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have my being. May my meditation be pleasing to him, for I rejoice in the Lord.” (Ps. 104:33-34)

David wrote his songs of praise by looking. Sitting and staring. Wondering and pondering. Hoping and dreaming. Crying and surrendering. His life was a pattern of work and song. Failure and obedience. Weakness and faith. Doubt yet hope. He held a staff in one hand and songs in the other.

These Scriptures inspire me to sit in the fields with my notebook and pen and look at Him too. I want to labor by day and sing by night, living next to the lamp that guides my feet. I want the wanderings of my heart to be of Scripture, reading the words of Moses, then flipping to the words of Jesus, and seeing how they are the same. I want to read Genesis, then Revelation, seeing them as an apocalyptic mirror that begins and ends in a garden.

God dwelling with man from beginning to end—and the cross in between that holds both together.

My flesh runs from the fields of meditation.

When I stare at the sky and the God who made it, I am reminded of my pain that I can no longer escape. I stare at my God and I stare at reality, burdened with the truth of my weakness. Some nights I sit on my couch with my Bible open, my heart closed, and tears falling.

“When will the comfort come?”

The day ends and I fall asleep, until my black and white phone sounds at 4:25 am—when it is time to rise and begin again.

I pour myself a cup of black coffee and sit by my dim desk light, opening my checkbook Bible and my eyes.

I read the words of life. Then, I write them in my journal and on my heart. I start each journal entry with the current time to remind myself that meditation happens both day and night. I can flip back and see a testimony of God’s grace—records of my success and failure—and a God who doesn’t really care about either. He just wants to be with me.

My journal is a time capsule, a record of history with the living God. Pages are stained with tears and smeared ink, of both sorrow and joy. Some days there is only a sentence written and others there are 4 pages. Too much to say that my hand can hardly keep up.

I write my words.

He writes His.

All my journals could burn and I wouldn’t care. These conversations are embedded deep in my soul, written in eternity, where no moth can destroy, and no man can take.

Perhaps, this is ministry to God.

To sit in the fields, and give God my sighs and cries. Some days I feel Him and others I don’t—but His words are always close. They sit on my nightstand or my bedroom desk. They are on my pillow when I wake up, leftover from the night before when I fell asleep reading them.

They are in my black purse I take to work and on my black and white phone I keep in my pocket. They are written on sticky notes on my wall and scraps of paper by my keyboard at work. They are written on notecards I took to the gym last week. I want to memorize them while I run on the treadmill.

There is much failure in between these meditations. Days of scrolling and sin I want to forget. But a God whose grace is bigger than all of them.

Help me, Lord, to walk with integrity in my house. I will ponder the way that is blameless, as ministry before you.

the end:

This is a picture I found of me in the age to come. I am the one with his face on the floor. We will see the King, in all His beauty. Can’t wait.

Until He comes,

Ava

how I digitize my journals:

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

Good morning, fellow sojourners!

I hope you enjoyed that picture of my glory days. I thought it was fitting for this week’s newsletter, as it is more of an administrative update on IN THE UPCOMING. Things will be changing with the weekly newsletter. You can read below to find out more.

The past couple of months, God has stirred my heart on new creative projects with this newsletter. I am inspired to go deeper into the craft of writing and grow more in the Word of God. Much of my free time is spent reading, researching, and writing innumerable notes I hope to craft into articles in the days to come.

With wanting to grow deeper in writing and research, I do have to adjust the amount of content I am putting out there. The weekly deadline is not enough time to cultivate more comprehensive pieces I am reaching for.

I will still be doing newsletters, but they won’t be weekly.

I’m not sure how often they will come out. I am giving myself some space to run wild with Jesus and see where He leads! Stay tuned.

Thank you all so much for your support over the last year of weekly newsletters. My heart has grown so much with Jesus while writing them, and I appreciate you being on the journey with me. I am so excited for what the Lord has been stirring in my heart. I hope to share more with you soon.

In the meantime, I linked a few of my favorite newsletters I’ve written below.

• #46: from discipline to delight

• #43: when an empty room becomes an open field

• #17: good morning, father

• #47: the journey to delight

I will see you soon!

Until He comes,

Ava

Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. (Matt. 4:4)

tuesday, july 8 2025

Lord, all my desire is before you. My sighing is not hidden from you. My heart pants, my strength fails me, as for the light of my eyes, it also has gone from me. (Ps. 38:10)

Lord, make me to know my end, and that is the measure of my days, that I may know how frail I am... when with rebukes you correct man for iniquity, you make his beauty melt away like a moth. Surely every man is vapor. Selah. (Ps. 39:4, 11)

You make my beauty melt, come to nothing, before the beauty of who you are. My ambition is not to achieve my desires; it is to sit and let the light of who you are touch my eyes so I can see clearly. I want to see the world around me with understanding. I want to see the world like you do.

My heart pants. My strength fails. My beauty melts.

As I fade away, it is you who remains.

I love sitting at my desk at 4:30 in the morning and hearing the birds sing. It reminds me that even when the world is sleeping, there are others who are awake.

Earlier this year, I would wake up hours before the sun and hear birds singing outside my window.

I sat down by my dim desk light, coffee in hand, and opened my checkbook Bible. I wrote on the header of my journal pages when I heard the birds sing. It sounded like a choir was outside my apartment window each morning, both captivating and distracting me. Creation's song pierced through the silence of the early hour.

The singing birds were a daily reminder that I wasn’t alone on the narrow way, but there were others awake with me. Jesus is touching the hearts of so many to rise up and pursue Him with all they have.

I had been walking through a time when silence felt deafening. All I wanted was to fill the empty places of my heart with noise to distract myself. That felt much easier than surrendering to God’s call to sit before Him and face what was before me.

I learned that distraction never heals. But sitting with Jesus does.

There is more to the narrow way than silence. It is more than walking along a dirt road by yourself, dragging a heavy cross. The narrow way is fellowship with Jesus, as He walks with us both during the day and at night. Even in the loneliness, pruning, and persevering—God filled the silence around me with song.

It felt like heaven was rejoicing at God’s work being done in my heart.

The ache and longing in this life is never unto hopelessness, but unto the promise of resurrection. Our strength fails and beauty melts, but the word of God stands forever. As we rise in our weakness and cling to our lamps during the night—we are building lives on a foundation that won't shake when the world does.

“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” (Rom. 8:22-23)

Although creation groans, it still sings.

I want to join with heaven's choir before the sun rises.

Thank you Jesus for the lamp of your word and the big tree outside my window, where all the birds come to sing your songs. Thank you for opening my eyes to hear your voice and know your heart. Keep my lamp burning during the night hours, as I love you here, and wait for you to come.

LIFE ON THE NARROW PATH is completely free to read. If you would like to support our work, consider a $5/month donation. You can click the link below to go to our giving page.

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This Bible is my “slightly bigger than pocket-size” reminder that I carry God’s word with me wherever I go. I discovered much joy from pocket-sized Bibles when I learned that organizations during World War I distributed small Bibles to soldiers on the front lines. Even back then, they knew that words sustained the heart in times of war.

“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers.” (Ps. 1:1-3)

My dream is to be like a tree, to live my life meditating by the streams.

The Psalmists’ relationship with God was motivated by delight. Many times through the book of Psalms we see that delight is a foundational part of knowing Him.

“…but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.“ (Ps. 1:2)

“He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me.” (Ps. 18:19)

“I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word.” (Ps. 119:16)

“Your testimonies are my delight; they are my counselors.” (Ps. 119:24)

“Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it.” (Ps. 119:35)

“…for I find my delight in your commandments, which I love.” (Ps. 119:47)

“The law of your mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver pieces.” (Ps. 119:72)

Sometimes we taste the delight. We sit before God’s word and feel His presence touch our weary hearts. Other times we enter delight by faith, believing and choosing that His words will sustain us. The Psalmist experienced both: the crushing cross of faith and the simultaneous joy of eternal life.

Anyone can delight when the sun is shining, but can we lay hold of delight in the darkest night? Like soldiers on a battlefield, can we train our hearts to cling to the words of life when we can’t see the way forward?

This is why God gave us a lamp. He knew we would need it.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Ps. 119:105)

My checkbook Bible is my lamp. It is a reminder of my life’s vision. Whether it is day or night, I want to be found meditating by the streams.

In the morning, when I rise.

At midday, when I put my hands to work.

At night, when I give the Lord my last whispers of prayer and praise before I lay my head to sleep.

My checkbook Bible reminds me that I don’t need more time; I need to use the time I have. My constraints of time and energy don’t have to be my limitation, but my motivation. I can go deeper with the little I have.

One thing I started doing is telling myself when I get home from work that God’s words are my reward. I don’t always feel this, and my flesh fights against it, but I want to keep my eyes on being like a tree. I want to open His word before I open anything else.

I need the streams of water—the water David longed for in a dry and weary land.

“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory.” (Ps. 63:1-2)

When we come to the end of our understanding, strength, and abilities, we are led to His feet. This is the entrance to the narrow road of faith, where our eyes are opened to see the beauty and glory of who He is.

When we see Jesus rightly, that is what changes us.

The word of God is like an immaculate diamond with infinite cuts. We get to gaze on this beauty for all of eternity. When the light hits God’s word differently before our eyes, we see an entirely new facet of who God is. Our understanding of Him begins all over again as we wrestle and enjoy the journey of knowing Him.

Through trials and tribulations, we relate to Jesus in new ways. God forges our lives to become a living embodiment of the truth we behold. The words we study no longer remain hidden on our hearts but shine on our faces for the world to see. The Holy Spirit transforms us as we see Jesus rightly.

The streams of God’s word are consistent.

They keep us steady. His words never waver when we do or when the world feels like it’s caving in. We are never in the dark as long as His words are before our eyes.

My dim desk light shines as I wake before the sun, illuminating my Bible pages. It reminds me that I am planted by the streams even when I feel out of control. In my weakness and doubt, I can still rise the next morning and sit by this light.

I fill my journal with tears of a longing heart. But at the same time, I fill my journal with pages of Bible verses copied word for word. I write my words. He writes His.

We don’t have to be good at seeking Jesus—none of us are. All we have to do is come again and sit by our dim desk light. An open Bible and open heart are all we need to drink from the streams of living water.

Delight sustains our life with Jesus.

LIFE ON THE NARROW PATH is completely free to read. If you would like to support our work, consider a $5/month donation. You can click the link below to go to our giving page.

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For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.” (Jer. 31:33-34)

We grow in the knowledge of God by writing His words on our heart.

Writing words inside of you is time-consuming. It is monotonous. It is taking a page out of the Bible and copying it word for word in you. Writing down every jot and tittle, no matter how small. And then after you write it once, you write it again. You keep writing God’s word in you until it becomes embedded into who you are, etched into the fabric of your being, and written so deeply that the outside world can see these Scriptures on your outer appearance.

Word by word by word by word.

I ask you, Father, reveal your heart through these words.

The repetitive process of keeping your word feels like I am not going anywhere. It feels like I am sitting stationary, day after day, carefully reading and muttering your words. But you remind me that although I am sitting stationary—I am on a moving train—going somewhere I cannot see. These silent meditations will become everyday conversations and will soon be the message I’ll stand on the hilltop and proclaim.

You don’t despise these quiet days.

I tend the flame of my heart each morning and evening, ensuring it has enough oil to last the night ahead. It is you who sets the speed of the train I am on. You can make it go faster or slower as you desire, while I remain sitting in my seat, looking out the window watching the world pass by me.

Only you can make me travel while I sit stationary.

You are not found in the miraculous but in the mundane, the common I often overlook. You are in the conversations I have with strangers and are with me as I sit at my desk eating lunch. You hear my prayers when the sun rises and my drifting thoughts as I go to sleep. You planted the dreams sown so deep in my heart, watering them ever so carefully to bloom in your time.

On this train, you take me deeper in who you are.

You teach me that it is not about going higher, but lower, reaching for treasure hidden beneath my feet. The dust of humility and roots of truth. Your word keeps me grounded; it is my sobriety in a drunken world.

I sit here at my bedroom desk, longing for the world outside my window.

I remain here by my dim desk light, sitting before your words, my meditation day and night.

I can’t wait for the day you send me to the alleyways, unfazed by the evil that surrounds. You are training me for the day this train stops and I arrive at the destination you planned long ago. Until then, I will sit on this train and write your words on my heart.

Thank you Jesus, you are opening my eyes to see.

LIFE ON THE NARROW PATH is completely free to read. If you would like to support our work, consider a $5/month donation. You can click the link below to go to our giving page.

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My TV has been sitting in my living room unused since I decided to get rid of my Wifi this past January.

I am officially a Wifi-less-TV-less-Gen-Z-er.

I have to say, I don’t miss it.

I still use my phone hotspot to connect to the internet to post this newsletter and get the news, but my tendency to sit on my couch and scroll my life away has drastically decreased (although far from where I want to be).

God has taken me on a never-ending journey of getting rid of things I don’t need. I have actually enjoyed asking the Holy Spirit what to add and remove from my life, even though changing habits is an unpleasant process.

I feel like I am constantly succeeding and failing at the same time. I suppose that is the beauty of it. God’s faithfulness isn’t dependent on our success or failure. He is faithful no matter what.

“Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.” (Is. 55:1-2)

The narrow way looks different for everyone, similar to how we all have different diets. There are foods that one person can eat, but that would be harmful to another. We all need the basics of fruit, vegetables, and protein, but we have different preferences, delights, and allergies that drive our choices when it comes to what we eat.

We have to listen to God in regards to what is helpful and harmful for our spiritual lives. We have different temptations and struggles that require a Great Physician to diagnose and heal. The Holy Spirit knows what we need.

Our spiritual diets affect our physical ones.

God changes our desires. He takes what we think we can’t live without and shows us a better way. When God removes something from our lives, He is saving us from it. He transforms our appetites to crave godliness. There comes a point when we hardly have to discipline ourselves to run from evil. We don’t want it anymore. The cheap delicacies of this world lose their attraction and allure—revealed for what they truly are.

We have to let ourselves hunger and thirst if we want to be filled with more of God.

He designed us with an empty stomach that is continually emptied. Our physical bodies reflect our spiritual need to eat God’s word. We are full then empty. Full. Empty. Full. Empty. This daily rhythm reminds us that it is not enough for man to live on yesterday’s bread.

In the withdrawal, I am learning how much you have to trust that God’s word is enough.

The Holy Spirit leads us into our depravity, the void we desperately try to fill, so our Spirit learns how to cry, “Abba Father,” when we need help. There is grace available to live as sons. Grace sustains us in our success and lifts us in our failures. It enables us to live on the edge of surrender without fear of falling. Grace teaches us that our efforts are not what keep us on the narrow way, but the Holy Spirit in us.

“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.” (2 Cor. 3:18)

When we look at Jesus, we are looking into a mirror. We reflect what we look at.

Our transformation isn’t about doing better; it is about seeing. We need the eyes of our hearts enlightened, not to see our deficiencies, but to see God’s sufficiency. He does in us what we could never do on our own. I call these moments “where the camel goes through the eye of a needle” (Matt. 19:24).

Our job is to sit and behold His glory.

A soldier has to be disciplined to be effective. However, the difference between the army and discipleship is that we are led by a Father, not a drill sergeant. There is grace to live as sons—even though we will undergo the discipline of a Father (in His great love).

As I sit in my living room, looking at my new mirror, I am reminded there is a greater One to behold. There is rich food to eat. Even though my flesh wages war against this reality and reminds me daily that I failed again, I am holding onto this promise:

His glory will change me.

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