In June of 2017, my husband and I were in Colorado celebrating our four-year anniversary.

On the second day, my phone rang.

It was my sister.

I remember looking at the mountains, trying to understand what she was saying. The mountains didn’t change. The air didn’t change. But everything had shifted.

My dad had gone to the hospital. Stage 4 liver cancer. Months to live. If that.

The rest of the day felt suspended as we kept asking the same question in different ways. Do we finish the trip or leave now? How much time do we have? Will we make it in time? What are we supposed to do? Could this really be happening?

Nothing felt like the right decision because none of it should have been happening.

We decided not to risk it and booked an earlier flight for the next morning.

That same night, my dad died.

The horrible thing about loss is that life keeps moving.

There were funeral arrangements, phone calls, and details that had to be handled whether I was ready or not.

And amid all the funeral arrangements and phone calls, we found out we were pregnant.

There was excitement about the life we had hoped for, but also numbness settling in from the grief. I was mourning one life while anticipating another.

Alongside all of this, that year, eight of our close friends got married, and I was in six of the weddings. There were bridal showers to host, bachelorette parties to plan, dresses to coordinate, and celebrations to show up for.

Grief came with me into every one of those spaces.

Grief did not stay home so I could celebrate. It was there in every smile, every toast, every plan for the future, and every reminder that there would be no more chances.

That year, I began to understand not just that joy and sorrow don’t take turns, but that one loss doesn’t protect you from another.

Grief compounds.

My husband’s sister’s wedding was at the end of the year. It was a beautiful winter wedding, and her dad was able to walk her down the aisle, which was a gift we didn’t take lightly.

People kept coming up to us throughout the day, expressing concern about my husband’s dad’s health. They hadn’t realized how much he had declined.

When my husband was a child, his dad had been diagnosed with a chronic disease that stayed in remission for years.

Over time, it began to progress, and by 2015 he had to retire early. There were yearly hospitalizations where we wondered, is this going to be the time? But on the day of the wedding, hooked up to oxygen, he was there, present, able to walk his daughter down the aisle.

But not even two weeks later, right before Christmas, he was back in the hospital. The questions were familiar. Do we pause everything? Who stays the night? How serious is it this time?

The days stretched on in hospital rooms. Waiting. Watching. Numb. Then somehow it was Christmas Eve. We didn’t bring gifts, but my husband’s dad handed out books meant to give us a laugh. My husband got How to Traumatize Your Children. I got Safe Baby Handling Tips and I Just Want to Pee Alone.

And alongside the books came a staggering check that paid off our college debt. Looking back, it was so much more than just a generous gift, it was a father trying to put things in order before he left.

My husband walked me to the parking garage, both of us overwhelmed by the weight, before he went back upstairs to stay the night with his dad.

Christmas Day was pushed aside, buried under the grief of the unknown.

The night before he died, my husband’s sister’s new husband of two weeks stayed with him. I hate admitting this came after all of us wanted to head home to get some rest.

But it was a blessing in disguise. New to our family, but already important to my father-in-law’s heart, he was the man who would care for his baby girl. They got to spend that last night together. For his last meal, which he barely touched, he ordered shrimp pad Thai.

The next morning, we were all there when the decision was made to move him to hospice. Before he left the hospital, he reached out and touched my stomach. I was due in March. He said he wished he could meet our daughter.

At the hospice facility, he got settled, and we stepped outside for a moment. Then someone came running, calling for us to come back, saying it was worth running for.

We ran, but while we were outside, he had already breathed his last.

Within six months, my husband and I had both lost our dads, and just a few months later we would become parents for the first time.

Life didn’t space those things out or give us time to finish grieving before something new began. It all came layered, overlapping, unfinished.

It’s been nine years this week, but I still have flashbacks to that last year of my father-in-law’s life. He loved to read, and at some point, during that time he found a book called When Breath Becomes Air and bought copies for everyone.

I love reading, but I resisted that book for a long time. Part of me thought I already knew what it would be.

A book about end-of-life I didn’t want to sit with.

So, I didn’t read it. But two years ago, I finally picked it up, partly because I wanted to honor him and partly because I felt like I should.

When Breath Becomes Air is a memoir by Paul Kalanithi, a neurosurgeon diagnosed with terminal lung cancer in his mid-30s, just as he was finishing years of training and stepping into the career he had worked toward his whole life.

The book follows the shift from being a doctor—someone who helps others face death—to becoming a patient himself. He writes about what it means to lose the future he had carefully built, and how he begins to ask different questions: not “how long do I have?” but "how should I spend the time I have left?

There is a stretch where treatment works and his cancer goes into remission. During that time, he and his wife decide to have a child, and he returns to work as a surgeon. He’s trying to live fully inside whatever time he’s been given, even though the outcome is already known. Eventually, the cancer returns and progresses, and he dies not long after his daughter is born.

The final section is written by his wife, reflecting on his last days and what it was like to walk through that with him.

When I finished it, I was surprised by my reaction. I didn’t love the book.

I hated it.

All I could see was my perspective: the unfinished conversations, the empty chairs, the fathers who never got to meet grandchildren, and the plans that never happened.

But every night this week, I found myself thinking about it again, and eventually it clicked. My father-in-law loved this book because he knew what he was facing. He knew death was coming, that time was limited, that the body breaks down, limitations increase, and no amount of hard work can stop it. And he found someone with language for it.

Grief has a way of stealing words. Sometimes the greatest gift is finding them again.

Permissions and Poetry

So, if you’re in the midst of grief, facing your own mortality, or simply carrying the ache of things that didn’t get finished, I want to offer you a few things.

First, permission to grieve. Not to rush. Not to explain it away. Not to pretend you’re fine. Joy and sorrow do not take turns, and grief does not stay home just because there is still life to be lived. It follows us into celebrations, new beginnings, and ordinary days. That’s okay. It simply means we love someone that’s not here with us. You have permission to read the same book three times. To hand it to a friend and say, "This. This is what I'm trying to tell you."

Second, permission to hope. That ache we feel when someone we love dies, when something beautiful ends, or when life doesn’t turn out the way we hoped is more than grief. It is homesickness. A reminder that we were made for more, and that death does not have to be the end of the story. You have permission to long for heaven. To wonder about it. To imagine it. To pray for it. To get excited about it. To make plans for a future beyond this one.

Third, permission to go. When the phone rings, when something feels wrong, when someone you love is hurting, you have permission to rearrange your plans. To leave early. To spend the night in the hospital. To make the drive. To book the flight. To sit by the bedside. Most of us are afraid of overreacting. But when it comes to the people we love, you’ll never regret showing up.

And lastly, permission to not have the words. When language feels out of reach, when grief and hope feel too big to hold, you have permission to turn on a song, pick up a pen, scribble in the margins, or go looking for a sunset. Sometimes what comes out isn't an explanation. It's a cry from the heart.

Here are two of mine.

Dear friends,

As this post goes out, my husband and I are in Zion National Park. It’s our first trip back out West since the one where we got the phone call about my dad, and it just so happens to be the anniversary.

Despite the sadness that still twinges, I’m grateful. Grateful for the years we’ve been given. Grateful for the people we love. Grateful for healing. Grateful that grief is not the end of the story. Grateful that while a page can be ripped out, there’s still so much that makes me say, “Thank you, God, for everything You have done.”

And that's coming from someone whose dad, mom, brother, and sister are all gone. Loss has been part of my story, but it is not the story. Jesus is.

I am not living in light of loss. I am living in light of eternity.

As expected, I have so much more I want to say. I wanted to write about what it looks like to face death when Jesus feels far away, the kind of faith my father-in-law had, how to grieve when the people around you are grieving too, and one centered fully on HOPE. But those are stories for another day.

Until then, hug your people a little longer than necessary. Answer one more question. Take the trip. Write the note. Record your voice. Thank God for everything He has done.

And when the homesickness comes, let it remind you where home is.

More than a decade ago, I was managing a small growing business. The owner was someone I looked up to greatly. You don’t always have the best bosses, but when you do, they stand out. Not only was he humble and intentional about remembering each and every person’s name that came in the door, but you could constantly find him when a new song came on the radio saying, “Jess… who’s playing?” and then going on to share about the song and artist.

A lot of what shaped the values of the company was his desire to draw the employees together as a team and encourage all of us to gain greater mastery. He was an avid learner and reader. So he would pay for us to take webinars, one-off classes, and full conferences. He believed deeply in mentorship and building an advisory team around you.

One of the workshops still stands out to me to this day.

The lady guiding the activity handed me a worksheet and timed me as I completed it. Once I finished, she had me repeat the same activity several times. Naturally, just through repetition and familiarity, my speed improved a little. But then she pointed out one simple insight about how the worksheet actually worked. Then she timed me again.

Of course now that I actually understood what I was doing, it only took a fraction of the time. The point was to show that when we don’t clearly understand how something works, not only does it take longer, but we often end up approaching it in a far less natural way.

There’s a category where time and repetition genuinely help. That’s why I repeated the activity multiple times. Just knowing what to expect shaved off a few seconds. And if you’re doing something daily, those seconds add up. But greater insight took off full minutes. Because now the screwdriver in my hands could actually be twisted instead of me continuing to hit the screw blunt side first with the end. That exercise exposed something simple: the better you understand something, the more naturally you can work with it.

For those of you who know me personally, or have followed along for a while, you’ve probably picked up that I tend to learn by jumping in first and figuring things out as I go. And that’s pretty similar to how I stumbled into Substack.

I originally thought it was simply a place to post essays for my in-person community. I had no idea there was an entire ecosystem underneath it. Notes. Recommendations. Platform culture. The strange tension of writing publicly online while still trying to stay grounded as a human being. Not to mention trying to figure out how to share your work when time is limited and parts of internet culture rub hard against your values.

So over the last six months, I’ve been learning out loud. Not just through trial and error, but through listening. Asking questions. Comparing experiences. Because just like that workshop years ago, understanding changes the way we approach the work itself.

And now for the people who somehow turned “I’ll just share a few thoughts online” into a full-blown fascination with internet writing culture, let’s dive in.

What is something you misunderstood about how Substack works, and when did it finally click for you? How did that change the way you use the platform now?

: It took me a while to figure out the whole “followers” versus “subscribers” thing. As a result, I completely missed the Notes portion of the platform for almost the first two years. I was using posts to publish my long-form writing, but didn’t pay any attention to the short-form, social aspect of the platform. That said, God used my mistake for his glory. I stumbled across the Christian community on Notes totally by accident, and God put it on my heart to use that for sharing more about my walks through scripture and connecting with the Christian community while keeping my long-form posts focused on the professional work I do. Per usual, God used my ‘mistake’ for good.

: I didn’t initially realize the importance of Notes. I started using Substack as an alternative to my blog so I treated it like a blog. After about a week I started to see how many people were using Notes and that, unlike social media, they were actually having conversations, which I LOVE. So I started using them and they have been really great. I have made so many friends.

: One of my biggest misunderstandings of the platform was the publication set up. I mistakenly created two separate publications but only operated out of one of them. This created a confusing experience for my subscribers–and for myself. By the time I figured it out, I had nearly a year’s worth of articles on a secondary publication which most of my subscribers knew nothing about. This meant that ⅘ of my subscribers weren’t actually getting my emails. very helpfully explained the discrepancy and carefully showed me how to resolve the problem. I saw a huge jump in engagement once this was fixed. Huge shoutout to the incredible community here on Substack. I have found people here quickly jump in and share the burden of figuring out all the quirks.

: I began simply posting weekly articles for families in my church and had no idea there was a social component. Just before Christmas, I began posting notes frequently, and then I got in the habit of aligning my notes with my long-form articles. This helped me maintain a consistent conversation with the community that was forming throughout the week. It would extend the conversation beyond a long-form article and gently introduce the ideas that would follow the next week. Now, I love the conversations that happen throughout the week, probably more than the articles themselves, because of the community aspect this platform provides.

: I didn’t understand that articles/posts and notes appeared in separate places on Substack. I thought that if someone subscribed to my posts, they would automatically see my notes. I also thought I would make new connections through my posts. In October 2025, I learned how important notes are for raising visibility and finding new connections. I started posting notes every morning and evening. When I post my note, I read and interact with other notes. I didn’t notice much change until March 2026, when several of my notes received dozens of likes and interactions per day, and new subscriptions increased.

: One misunderstanding I had was recommendations. I thought if you shared someone’s work or restacked them, that alone counted as a recommendation. It took me a while to realize there’s an actual built-in recommendation feature that actively helps route new subscribers toward other publications. Once I understood that, I started realizing how much the platform is built around people helping each other get discovered. Of course, recommendations come with limitations. Often subscribers through a recommendation chain aren’t intentionally choosing your publication, so expect fresh unsubscribes every time you email out a post. But even if you didn’t gain a single new subscriber, there are still a few unexpected benefits. First, by the time I recommend someone, we’ve usually already spent time reading each other’s writing, talking in comments, and encouraging one another, so there’s already real connection there. Second, you slowly build the habit of thoughtful encouragement, which is a vital skill for writers anyway. And third, on the days you’re questioning whether any of this matters, it helps being able to reread the things people have said about your writing too.

: Substack is a different beast of social media. It doesn’t award the same things that might award you attention on IG or LinkedIn. For the most part, people don’t come to this platform for reels, low-brow humor, aesthetic shallowness, or memes. They’re on here because they’re curious, because they want to learn and grow. I think what throws lots of people off who are used to Instagram is that people on here don’t really seem to want a hollow caricature of a human, they’d prefer to follow an actual human, flaws and all. Flexing gets punished for the most part. If you’re unkind and spend lots of times making cynical comments or dunking on others, you might gain some followers, but you won’t really gain anyone’s trust and support. It’s kind of weird like that. Getting stuff to “click” on here is basically just dependent on whether you’re going to nuance your ideas well enough that people resonate with your effort or creativity or authentic musings.

: Substack is not Instagram or TikTok. Early on, I treated it like another social platform where the goal was broad reach and quick engagement. But this isn’t a space where your crazy uncle or 3rd grade classmate you haven’t talked to in 25 years is going to comment or engage. It’s a space built for readers, people who genuinely love words, want to go deeper, and find honest community. Once that finally clicked for me, I stopped chasing “viral” moments and started focusing on consistency, honesty, and connection. I began writing more like I was talking to a trusted group of friends instead of trying to perform for the entire internet. Performance is more exhausting than writing and writing in itself is exhausting work. That shift changed everything about how I use the platform now. Honestly, I think it changed the way I approach my writing (and way of living) as a whole.

If you look at your current subscribers, where did they actually come from? Did your growth come more from inside Substack, existing relationships, or somewhere else entirely? Has that changed over time?

: Most come from notes. A couple thousand came from posts, but notes is really where most of the traffic comes from. It’s sort of just the way the platform is designed. You don’t find new people to follow on Twitter or IG without seeing their tweets or reels; and you don’t really find new people to follow on Substack without seeing their notes. The referral function might get you a few new subs, but lots of them unsubscribe soon after because they only signed up as a courtesy (or on accident) for someone else they were going to subscribe to, so it’s not really the best source for new subs. Personally, all my growth came from Substack. I had like 12 followers on all social media before starting on here in late 2024. And growth has never really looked different since starting: write good articles, write interesting notes, and don’t be a jerk. There’s nothing mystical to it.

: Notes have been incredibly helpful. A large number of my subscribers have come from consistently sharing Notes — usually one or two a day. Often it’s a short prayer, a line from a poem,or a thought pulled from one of my posts, or a random thought. I also perform poetry and tell stories around the US, and during my shows I’ll encourage the audience to follow my work on Substack. For me, Substack has become somewhat of a home base. It hasn’t replaced my website, but it has become a place where I’m trying to direct people because it’s where I feel like I have the best chance of building an ongoing relationship with readers instead of fighting an algorithm for attention.

: I started from scratch on Substack and have done no other promotion. My community has all come from within the Substack platform, and over 90% of those subscribers have come from Notes. In that way, Substack has worked kind of like its own ecosystem for me—subscribers come from Notes, read long-form posts, and vice versa, so it’s kind of seemed to build on itself.

: Most of my subscribers are from notes. I’ve even seen subscribers come from a comment. This goes to show the significance of every word you publish on Substack, no matter the format. Every single time you post a comment, restack, note or article–this may be the first impression from someone who wouldn’t have otherwise found your work. This is exciting because it makes finding the right people that much more accessible. While it can be tempting to constantly polish your content so that you have your best foot forward at all times, I don’t think this is sustainable and will likely lead to fatigue. My advice to you is to write in your natural tone. If people join your journey, you will have started a genuine community where you don’t feel like you need to “perform” but simply share authentically.

: For me, it’s a pretty healthy mix of organic and imported. I had around 8k folks subscribed to my Mailchimp newsletter when I migrated over that I brought with me. I also host regular online events where I’ll occasionally import some folks who opt-in to my newsletter. The rest have come organically through the platform, finding my work referenced elsewhere, or who knows where. As for surprises, my biggest one is how hard it is to grow subscribers. While I’ll occasionally have surges, most of the time it’s a slow, steady decline over time. So, if you’re feeling discouraged by not constantly “growing,” don’t be discouraged.

: Some of my subscribers came from my email list. I decided to send emails via Substack and not through a paid service anymore. What surprised me is how that initial list has grown. I get most of my subscribers from and from Substack’s Weekly Stack now.

: One of the reasons I came to Substack was to increase my interaction with readers. I brought 77% of my current subscribers from existing relationships, and 23% came from Substack. I appreciate the opportunity to share other people’s newsletters and have them share mine. About 3% of my subscribers came through these referrals.

: Most of my subscribers have come from Substack itself. People are finding my page, and not the other way around. A large portion of my base is the families of my church, but they do not interact with the larger community and primarily get the articles via email. I see more subscribers consistently from the Substack community. The growth began when I started posting notes and interacting more on the platform’s social side, and since then, it has accelerated.

AJ Augur: My first 150 subscribers were people who know me in real life. Then slid into my comments and restacked my work, which pulled me into the broader Substack community. At first, growth looked like me discovering someone else’s publication and then, through conversation and interaction, them eventually discovering mine. It was very person-to-person and relational. But the last several hundred subscribers have come far more through recommendations from people who already follow my work. I also have to be honest that I’ve never really approached Notes from a “how do I get discovered?” mindset. I’ve mostly used them as a way to connect with the people already in my community. But reading through all the responses above, I’m realizing a lot of people are using Notes much more intentionally as a bridge into their longer writing. So, I definitely have some learning and experimenting ahead of me.

Which Substack metrics or stats do you actually pay attention to, and which ones have you learned to ignore?

: I track trends instead of details. Are people interacting with my posts? Which topics get higher response rates?

: I only really pay attention to how my actual posts/articles perform. I love long form content. I think this is one of the few places left in the world where long form content is allowed breathing space. So for that reason, even though I post a lot of notes, I’m always hoping to drive people to my posts, which is always my main focus. And yes my relationship with metrics has definitely changed: I can’t check my subscriber numbers or look at how well my notes perform anymore. It gets too competitive and takes away from the fun of it all way too much. So I do my best to literally hide all those metrics from every part of my dashboard (check out the “hide stats” function in your settings).

: My biggest take on metrics is to avoid them if at all possible. I completely understand why people track them, and there are times where there’s wisdom in that. I’m not sure how everyone will fall on this topic. But, for my personality I don’t find this a healthy practice for me. This isn’t to say I never check baseline metrics, it’s just a rare occurrence. Also, I don’t know how to view unsubscribes. I don’t find this important so I’ve chosen not to learn how to do this. My marketing background made me a nerd for analytics, so I do genuinely enjoy understanding what content leads to a subscription. I will curiously explore those sorts of metrics.

: I primarily pay attention to retention and open rate and churn. I always want to make sure that posts in a series are something that resonates with people otherwise I pivot.

: I do my best not to look at stats. They’re usually not great for my mental health. But I’m also a human being, so of course I still check them sometimes. I’ve had many posts and Notes completely “bomb.” I recently had a Note about carrot cake get a few thousand likes. Why? I have no clue. Maybe it’s because carrot cake is great or because one person with a larger audience shared it. I’m not sure. At the same time, I’ve shared pieces I thought would deeply resonate only to watch them disappear into the deep ocean that is the internet. Over the years, I’ve learned that metrics are unpredictable and not always a reliable measure of whether something mattered. Some of the pieces that meant the most to me reached the fewest people. Some of the quickest things I’ve posted traveled far beyond what I expected. You cannot predict what resonates. You can only continue to offer what you have. I feel like I’m always saying that: “Give what you have.” Numbers can sometimes provide helpful insights, but I think what matters more is continuing to write honestly and consistently regardless of the response. I do know that writing something honest, real, and human is always well received, even if what you’re writing is just for you.

: In the beginning, it was the subscriber count, seeing how many people were interested enough in my content to subscribe and receive it weekly. Nowadays, I do not pay as much attention to those numbers. Just to see how things have progressed or changed as my audience grows, I check the subscriber count and number of views in my notes to see what has become the “new normal.” I probably watch the number of views on my long-form articles more than anything else.

: I’d be lying if I said I didn’t at least pay attention to my overall subscriber count. I wish I could say I didn’t care at all, but it’s hard not to be discouraged when you’re not seeing consistent growth. That said, whenever I feel discouraged, I pray for encouragement. I won’t say that God boosts my sub count, but he always has a way of reminding me that I write for him and his purposes, not mine. I’ll glance at the other stats just out of curiosity to see how far my articles reach or where traffic is coming from, but it’s more just out of curiosity than anything else. I’ve found the stats only end up being a discouragement. Even if you’re ‘growing,’ I’ve found it only feeds an appetite that’s never satisfied. As a result, I just keep praying God helps me not care and trust he’s reaching who he needs to reach with the work he has me creating.

: One metric I find helpful is the subscriber activity section. If you go into your dashboard, click “Subscribers,” then “Activity,” it organizes people by engagement with a five-star ranking. I’ve seen some people use that information to clean up subscriber lists, but I personally don’t feel drawn to that. Life comes in seasons. There are seasons where people are overwhelmed, caring for family, burned out, grieving, rebuilding, or simply offline more. I’ve had those seasons myself. Someone remaining subscribed means something to me, even if they’re less active for a while. Opening this list shows me that even if someone doesn’t comment, like, or otherwise interact visibly, more people are reading than it might feel like in the moment.

: I do check metrics, but these days it’s mostly open rate. I want to dial in my headline and hook so that anyone who pens the article feels like their time was respected (in other words, not click bait) while also conveying my intention well. Beyond that, I have found that a focus on the structure and content of the writing itself is a far more valuable use of time than stressing about metrics. I’m a firm believer in the idea that if you build it with God, readers will come.

What role do other platforms play in your writing life right now? If you use them, how do they support your Substack?

: I’m sold out on being a writer. I do not want to have to go get a job where I have to wear hard pants and sit in an office. I want writing to remain my full-time work, so because of that, I do my best to show up on other platforms too. Right now, I mostly see social media as a bridge rather than a destination. Platforms like Instagram or TikTok help people discover my work and books, but Substack is where I hope they stay. It’s where longer conversations can happen and where the connection feels more sustainable. I’ve met some incredible writers and friends on this platform. It’s a gift. At the same time, I’m still trying to figure out how to participate in social media without letting it consume my life. It is a lot of work to write, create, record videos, make posts, reply to comments, and engage with other writers. The exhaustion is real. I think I’m still trying to figure out what healthy participation actually looks like.

: I’ve only recently started making content on other platforms, and honestly, I’m pretty much just doing it to point more people to my Substack. So I just link my Substack in essentially all the content I make for other platforms. I want to encourage more consumption of long form content, so if I make something short, I want to at least point people in the direction of something deeper.

: I have no presence on any other platform, though at some point I’d like to venture into YouTube. For now though, it has been such a relief to only focus on Substack without juggling other platforms. As I said before, the fact that it’s like its own self-contained ecosystem has been fantastic.

: I’ve chosen to focus my time on Substack and not spread my attention until I feel more comfortable here. Instagram is probably a platform I should be paying more attention to, but it is a backburner focus for me. I’ve flirted with the idea of podcasting, but I haven’t committed to anything quite yet. There’s no rush.

: I have a blog site that now is sort of a feeder site for Substack but it also has a lot of traffic itself. Since I now primarily write on Substack it has freed me up to study more. Managing an entire site and constantly worrying about Search Engine Optimization is exhausting. I still do SEO but it is less of an issue on Substack.

: My content creation journey has been an evolution. LinkedIn is where I got my start, and I’ve been doing that for well over a decade. I’ll mention my articles on there each week, but I don’t promote it hard. It’s more of a place I point people when something aligns, or I feel something I created is uniquely relevant. My podcast/YouTube is similar. I’ll mention that I write on Substack so people are aware and explain how it fits into the resources I create, but I’m not promoting it. My weekly livestream is multi-streamed to Substack and other platforms. That’s more of something I do because I love answering questions for people and interacting with my community, sharing it as broadly as possible in case someone would benefit. In short, Substack fits into my portfolio of content, but it’s not necessarily something I push on people or promote.

: I used to post consistently on Facebook, X, and LinkedIn, but it all became too much for me. Now I am focusing on Substack. Often, I will share my weekly post on Facebook. I use the time I previously spent among several channels to focus on Substack instead.

: I am exclusively on Substack for my writing.

: Before Substack, I had never really used public social media. Once I started self-publishing, I made an Instagram, but I could never post consistently because it felt inauthentically performative. Around that same time, though, I discovered Substack. I never expected to enjoy social media, but Substack tricked me. When it’s tied to long-form writing, conversation, and friendship, it somehow feels completely different. More recently, though, I’ve started rethinking visuals. Partly because people genuinely connect and learn differently, and partly because the internet itself functions visually. You can spend hours writing a thoughtful piece, and then a thirty-second reel gets exponentially more attention. None of us fully understand the internet, but visuals are part of what make someone stop scrolling long enough to enter a deeper idea or piece of writing. I also recently read say that while social media sharing is inherently performative, we can still show up authentically within it. That’s an idea I’ve been thinking through more as I’ve grown more confident in my own voice and sharing my work. So, while I still feel a tension around all of this, I do want to experiment more with visual storytelling and how it can become a bridge into longer writing, so expect more in part 9.

Can you share a season where writing, sharing, or engaging online felt harder than you expected? What did that look like, and what helped you move through it?

: The hardest part for me was the early months. I was being fueled by my excitement to start something new and share with families in my church what God had been laying on my heart. While they were (and still are) my priority, I did become discouraged when I saw other pages grow and did not fully understand how that worked on Substack. Again, once I started posting notes and engaging in the community, that all changed. But there was a season in November where I was not sure if I would ever see growth on my page. However, my love for writing and sharing is what has kept me here long-term. I have a list of topics I want to write about (which grows constantly). And the ability to weave my thoughts and ideas through my articles and notes to generate conversations with the community challenges and pushes me. It has helped me grow in my craft of writing and presenting ideas to others.

: For me, the beginning struggle was needing writing support and building rejection tolerance, but the ongoing struggle is remembering I am a human being, not a machine. Meaningful connection online can become endless if you let it. There will always be more people to respond to, more conversations to enter, more posts to read, more notifications waiting. And because I love people, it can become emotionally difficult to step away. What has helped me most is remembering that I’m not called to omnipresence. I’m called to faithfulness. Sometimes that means deeply engaging and encouraging people here. Other times it means closing the app, going on a walk with my kids, hosting people in my living room, or simply resting.

: Social media is designed to loop you into a chronic comparison trap. The worst times I’ve had on this platform are the times I’ve spent too engrossed in those who are writing better content than I am. The envy gets exhausting. Breaking out of it requires learning to admire someone else’s gifting and thanking God for designing them the way they are and honoring our mutual humanity. Basically: learning to admire someone even in spite of your pettiness.

: In the beginning of my Substack writing journey I forgot who I was writing to. I wrote on auto-pilot rather than topics my audience cares about. It became a very genuine shift for me when I brought my readers along with the very wrestles and questions I experienced. Many times, I learn through writing anyway. I noticed that my content resonated with people when I wrote less polished and more naturally inquisitive. I think it was freeing for both of us. Also, writing is far more enjoyable for me this way.

: As an introvert, I often struggle with the engagement aspect of Substack. I am grateful for every comment and like, but sometimes I am easily overwhelmed. Fortunately, everyone here is extraordinarily understanding, and I thank God for the opportunity to interact with the community here.

: I honestly have to say that I have not had many difficulties with Substack itself. I guess since I am coming from a blog that has been operating since 2018, Substack just overall felt easier and the engagement is SO amazing. You just don’t get that conversation with your readers on a blog site like you do on Substack.

: I’d say at least several times a week I wrestle with the tension between capacity and creating. As a husband and dad to eight who’s busy building a consulting practice, I regularly feel like I don’t have enough capacity to “create” more. While I almost never struggle with having enough to say or write about, feeling overwhelmed by the effort that goes into it hits regularly. Whenever it does, I take it to God and pray about it, surrendering it all to him and acknowledging that I know my stress and anxiety come from my feelings of obligation to produce. Every single time, I get this overwhelming reminder that it’s okay if I need to ‘rest.’ Sometimes it results in a random, unplanned week or several weeks of dead space. However, most of the time, me surrendering it somehow opens the door to God giving me exactly what I need. When he does, I somehow find space to create, and it doesn’t feel like work.

: Since I have experience on other platforms, I realized that I was not going to see results right away, so I haven’t really found engaging on Substack particularly difficult. Readers and other writers are very supportive and encouraging.

: There have definitely been seasons where it felt discouraging to keep showing up online, especially when the response felt quiet or inconsistent. Some seasons I didn’t have anything to say. Other seasons I didn’t know if what I had to say was helpful or just noise. The last thing I want to do is be noise. Writing publicly can create this strange pressure where you start measuring the value of your work by clicks, shares, or growth instead of whether you were honest or staying aligned with your mission for writing. What’s helped me move through that is remembering why I started writing in the first place. I try to focus less on performance and more on connection. I also think live poetry shows have helped ground me. When you read a poem in a room full of people and someone comes up afterward with tears in their eyes, it reminds you that impact and visibility are not always the same thing. Sometimes one honest interaction with a real person can quiet the unhelpful noise of the internet for a while.

Why did you start writing in the first place? Knowing the time, vulnerability, and effort it takes to share publicly, what keeps you from quitting?

: My mission with writing has always been to spread hope. I started writing because I wanted people to feel less alone and to remember that there is a God who loves them. Even now, what keeps me going are the messages from readers who say a poem met them in a difficult moment or gave them language for something they couldn’t explain themselves. Writing publicly is vulnerable and exhausting at times, but those moments remind me why it matters. Writing has also become one of the ways I process my own life, grief, faith, and questions. I’m not sure I would know how to move through the world without writing.

: I started writing because my father-in-law gave me a pen the day before my wedding and said that the Holy Spirit told him that I was going to be a writer. So at that point I just kind of had to become a writer (who am I to turn down some kind of blessing like that??).. Calling is basically what keeps me from quitting. If I’m not writing, I’m not honoring what God has called me to. It sounds kind of lofty or dramatic, but it’s realistic: I was designed to do this. A tree honors God by being a tree. A writer honors God by writing.

: I started writing because as any writer will identify with, I can’t not write. It’s how I process my thoughts and I take joy in the act of creating. As far as The Writer’s Calling, I wanted to share with others the legitimacy and purpose in writing in relationship with God. It’s truly a beautiful experience and I want everyone who feels this calling to experience it.

: I’ve always written, but only recently have I started writing publicly. Before I learned how to form letters, I would scribble my way through loads of tiny notebooks. The swirls on the pages appeared meaningless, but I knew exactly what I was trying to say. Writing has always been a form of processing for me. So, writing about a subject I grew increasingly passionate about was a natural progression. I walked away from God and the church for several years after growing up smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt. There were many doubts about God which I tried to bury. Once I returned, I cannot look at God the same. He is far more beautiful than I could have imagined. Looking back at the environment I grew up in, I have so much sympathy for my younger doubting self and the magnitude of my friends and family who have left but haven’t returned yet. I deeply understand their discrepancies with the church today. But there’s so much goodness about God that I missed out on. Every day, He grows sweeter and more precious to me. I want to share that with those who have had similar doubts as me. And doubts I continue to struggle with, I think those are important to voice from even the most mature Christian. I have people in my mind who motivate me to write everyday. Also, someone is praying for their sister, uncle, or parent right now. I write for them.

: That’s a super long story, but in short, God’s gotten me through a lot, and he’s given me a really strange and quirky blend of experiences and skills. I genuinely have a heart to do all I can to put those to use for the benefit of others. That’s literally it. So, I sought God’s wisdom on how to pull that off, and over the years he’s continued to show my different channels. When he does, I go with it. While it looks like I’ve been really intentional about ‘expanding’ my content strategy, it’s honestly just been God revealing new paths and showing me how to walk them. When he does, I’m obedient to following it. If he ever leads me to shut any of it down, I’ll happily do it. As an example, I wrote an entire book and got it all the way to publishing (had early praise and everything). He led me to not move forward, and now it sits on my desktop as a reminder to only go where he leads. For now, I’m creating in all the places and ways he’s led me to create and will continue to until such a time that he tells me otherwise.

: I have been writing since I was 6 years old so it has always been a passion. I just didn’t know what form that would take. I did not actually start writing for an audience until I was in my 50’s. I don’t want to say that my health issues are a blessing but they did cause me to stop working and then I had the time to study, go to seminary and do all I needed to do to write and teach. I am thankful and blessed that I have a very supportive husband who is able to support the family without me working and who encouraged me to do what God was calling me to do.

: I enjoy writing. It provides a way to clarify my own thoughts, work through trauma, and help other people. Sometimes I only write for myself, but most times I write to share what I’m learning. Writing has connected me with such wonderful people. It’s those relationships that keep me from quitting.

: Because I felt God calling me to pour into the families in my church. I wanted to provide weekly encouragement and resources to help them as they navigate discipling their kids at home. Now, it has become a part of my weekly routine, and I block out time just to sit and write. I enjoy getting to share with them (and the rest of my Substack audience) what God has laid on my heart and walk this journey of parenthood right alongside them.

: Whether I share publicly or not, I spend hours every day reading, writing, connecting ideas, and having expansive conversations. There’s no real “start” point because this kind of reflection is just wired into me. So the question for me isn’t really whether I’ll quit writing. It’s more whether I’ll share publicly, and if so, in what way. Because if we’re not careful, writing publicly can become tangled up with wanting approval, wanting to matter, wanting to be seen. I do not want to get swallowed up by the junkie-ness of the intermittent dopamine drip of relevance and sell my soul for the diminishing returns of online affirmation. Yet at the same time, the more caught up I become in Jesus, the harder it is not to speak. Not because I suddenly become more confident or fearless, but because I keep colliding with grace. My King. My Audience of One. So, while I dislike being in any kind of spotlight and the dangers that come with it, I can’t help but say with Jeremiah: “His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot.”

And since we’re all still learning, what questions do you still find yourself asking?

: Does it matter? Will anyone notice if I stop writing? When can I delete social media? Would I be happier if my income wasn’t dependent on the internet? Should I get another dog? Is it too early to eat cake? I think those questions are part of being both a writer and a person online right now — trying to make meaningful work while also trying to be a healthy human.

: My questions at the moment are: will I ever be satisfied? Or will I just keep hoping for more and more and more and more. I guess it’s just a side effect of human nature. But all the landmarks you cross (getting more followers, getting published in cool places, getting invites to cool events, etc) sort of just leave you wanting more. So I’m kind of wondering how to just take that craving for more in general. Just be content, you know? I could die tomorrow and know that I honored what God asked me to do with the time He gave me, so there’s no real necessary reason to strive more.

: Practically speaking, I’ve been thinking about starting an additional publication, and it’s hard to know if I should do so under the same account or a new one. Because if I post a Note, Substack only shows your primary publication. I’ve been going back and forth on this for a couple of months now!

: I find myself wondering the direction Substack is moving. Part of what differentiates this platform from the giants is that it operates much more organically. With the newness of it, I hope it’s not just a prototype but a method which is proven and stays.

: That is a tough one. I guess maybe the only question I have is how writers on Substack deal with people copying you. I am not referring to outright plagiarism but taking your style, your ideas, your subjects and consistently copying them. I am sure it happens a lot so I would love to know how people address it.

: Honestly, the biggest one I ask myself and God all the time is, “Can you help me understand what you’re accomplishing through all this effort because I for the life of me don’t understand it?” I’m happy to follow his lead, but I’d honestly be lying if I said I don’t regularly feel like I’m shouting into the void and have no idea why he has me doing what I do or what it accomplishes. That said, I’ve come to appreciate that it’s more important to be obedient than to understand, so I keep going. And, somehow, he always manages to give me little insights here and there that give me exactly the encouragement I need when I feel tempted to throw in the towel because it’s not meeting my definition of “success.”

: The one aspect of Substack that I am still pondering is when to transition to some paid content. I believe I have an audience that would be open to that idea, but I have never wanted to let that be the primary reason why I am here. I never want to change the amount or quality of content I provide for free on a weekly basis. But I do have ideas for other resources I can create to help families. I want to provide these for families in a different form, and I am praying through what that could look like through a paid tier on this platform. I have not rushed into this either. I will be almost a year on Substack before I ever turn this feature on, but that is what I am pondering, and I am researching how to do it well.

: Lately I’ve been asking how Substack can best support both writing books and selling them. One thing I’ve realized is that for nonfiction especially, Substack can almost function like a live testing ground. You can explore different subtopics, pay attention to what resonates, invite feedback, and over time slowly build the foundation for a book while also building relationships with readers along the way. And I’m contemplating what I want to do with Substack Lives. I did weekly podcasts for a couple of years and used to have a weekly Twitter Space and enjoyed the opportunities for collaboration and relationship building that provided. I’m still figuring out how to use these Lives and Podcasts strategically so that I am using my time wisely.

: The basis of this whole community series is the ongoing questions that keep coming to mind. One of the next things I want to explore is the distortion to bypass creativity itself, especially as AI, algorithms, and visual media continue accelerating everything around us. Everyone wants to remove slowness, remove friction, optimize everything and produce instantly, but that’s the opposite of how imagination awakens and the soul takes flight. The conversation after that will focus on visual storytelling, creating on-ramps into written work, marketing work without feeling performative, and keeping Jesus at the center of all this. Then another on navigating the emotional weight of comparison, fragmented attention, mental health, sleep, and the writer’s life itself. Then maybe I’ll swing back toward the writing development side of things — feedback, coaching, editing, sharpening each other’s work, and how we can realistically play those roles for one another when everyone already has limited time, limited margin, and usually a book they’re trying to write themselves.

recently shared that strong essays are usually about one thing. While this conversation covers metrics, algorithms, and community, the “one thing” underneath this entire collaboration is the search for sustainable, honest, human ways to create online.

I’m thankful for every person here willing to think out loud together. Because conversations like this help all of us better understand the strange realities we’re participating in instead of just stumbling through them alone.

And to everyone who willingly stayed for this many words about writing life online, thank you for continuing to make longform possible.

As always, if you have a question, a frustration, an idea, an encouragement, or even an “I didn’t know that” moment of your own, we’d genuinely love to hear it.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

I love helping connect one reader to another, so if you’re trying to find your people on Substack, explore these growing Community Directories.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll soon begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas. The first three will be , , and . These aren’t emailed out, always in app. So, make sure you’re following along.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms (this post)
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Recommendations
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s

I would love it if you filled out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

— AJ

Looking at my own life today, God has transformed me through prayer.

God uniquely wired me toward prayer in certain ways. I am a ruminator. I overthink. I feel anxiety intensely. And over time, God retrained those feelings to prompt me toward prayer instead of panic, to bring about peace in my life. But I was not always someone who prayed like this. I did not even know I had this capacity within me.

And many people are in that same starting place. Drawn to the idea of prayer, yet facing insecurity, discouragement, doubt, and even dissatisfaction. Hungering to pray with passion, reverence, hope, and a heart-felt desire to glorify God.

So how do we experience a life of overflowing prayer?

How can someone learn to pray?

In one sense, no one needs to teach you to pray. When a baby is first born, they do not yet have language, but almost every adoring look, cry of need, coo of confusion, and expression of delight is directed toward their parents.

For a baby, it’s pure connection and dependence. The baby spends its first year adjusting to the fact that it is no longer immediately connected to mom, to life, to security, to warmth. No one has to teach that baby to think about their mom, to connect with mom and dad, to cry for help, or to simply be.

In the same way, when your thoughts are directed toward God, those are prayers.

When you are hurting, it is often a knee-jerk reflex to call out to Jesus. To pray in Spirit-prompted ways. To get from God only what He can give.

But just as a child needs to be taught language and expression and to see it modeled, we also have to learn how to pray.

And we’ll come to see: some parts of prayer are deeply personal. Other parts are learned alongside people who love God.

Learning to Pray Alone

I actually found it very jarring the first year when people would ask to pray together. It felt so intimate, private, personal.

There are aspects of our relationship with God that are just between the two of us. While Jesus was generous with His time, He was constantly withdrawing for time alone with the Father.

That private intimacy is so good to guard. There is something about those quiet moments with God when no one else is around. No pressure. No trying to sound spiritual. No worrying about whether you are saying the “right” thing. Just bringing your real thoughts, fears, gratitude, confusion, and desires before Him.

When we read through the Bible, we are given countless examples of what it looks like to pray. Scripture submerges us in God’s own thoughts and brings us into proximity with people of prayer like Moses, David, Jesus, and the apostles.

As we pray, journal, meditate on Scripture, and respond to the Spirit’s prompting, something begins to happen. Over time, prayer stops being merely an idea we believe in and becomes an actual relationship we experience. Our spirit cries out to God, and we begin to know Him more personally.

Learning to Pray Together

The first several years that I followed Jesus, I was insecure and uncomfortable in my communal prayer life.

Pause and think: Why might someone feel uncomfortable praying with other people?

Yet, there is something about praying together with other believers that we cannot experience anywhere else.

Hearing other people pray aloud, seeing their vulnerability, hearing the way they connect prayer to God’s Word, and listening to the things they ask God for inspires us to greater boldness, greater faith, and greater joy.

When you pray with other people, prayer becomes a continuation. One person begins praying, then another continues, then another adds thanksgiving, another brings Scripture, another brings faith, another brings vulnerability. Together, we begin to experience the mind and heart of Christ among us.

I think about this often when someone says, “Pray for me.” How many times have we sincerely meant to pray for someone, but life moved quickly and we forgot? One thing I have learned is that when I see a request, I try to pray immediately. Right then. Right there.

But I have also learned that when those requests are brought into a praying community, the likelihood of continually bringing those things before God increases exponentially because we are making intentional space to seek Him together.

One of the hardest parts of prayer is the “over and over again” aspect of it. We pray for the same things repeatedly. We thank God for the same things repeatedly. We forget. We get discouraged. We lose perspective. We drift back into anxiety, self-reliance, distraction, or hurry. I think this is one reason Scripture continually reminds us to remember. We are incredibly prone to forgetting both who God is and what He has already done.

And this is part of why praying with other people matters so much. In ordinary conversation, it is natural for someone to ask, “How is that situation going?” or to remember a prayer from months ago and suddenly connect the dots: “Wait… look what God has done.”

Communal prayer helps us remember. It helps us continue. It helps us notice patterns of God’s faithfulness we might have overlooked alone. Sometimes other people remember the prayers and provisions of God for us when we would have forgotten them ourselves.

So what does it look like to have a prayer gathering alive with God? One where you are excited to participate? One where the desires in your heart burn to be expressed before Him?

I think it starts with remembering what prayer is.

What Is Prayer?

Prayer is connection.

Prayer is where we meet with God. Where we cry out to Him, thank Him, praise Him, and bring our real selves before Him.

Prayer is also where we come into alignment with God.

Prayer ultimately centers on His kingdom and His will.

“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” — Matthew 6:10

Prayer is an act of spiritual warfare.

It is resistance against darkness, discouragement, unbelief, and isolation.

Prayer is where we petition God and experience His provision.

“You do not have, because you do not ask.” — James 4:2

Prayer is one of the clearest ways we participate in God’s kingdom work.

We are invited into partnership with what He is already doing in the world.

And prayer is where we access the power of God.

Scripture tells us that apart from Christ we can do nothing. If our lives are lived apart from prayer, we may accomplish things outwardly, but we will miss the kind of fruit that remains, the spiritual life that can only be experienced in Christ.

Prayer is also a muscle.

The more we pray, the more familiar prayer becomes. Over time, prayer stops feeling like something we are trying to force into our schedule and becomes something we instinctively turn toward because we know how to meet with God there.

At its heart, prayer is the ability to see God and help others see Him too.

There’s so much more we could talk about. Not just what prayer is, but why we pray, how we pray, what the fruit of prayer is, and how to facilitate and cultivate a prayer meeting. We could also talk about how to intentionally create extra space with people for both planned and spontaneous prayer, along with the wisdom we can gain from learning from other people’s prayer journeys, sermons, and books on prayer.

In follow-up posts, I’d love to explore more of this. Until then, if you have a favorite quote, book, sermon, or lesson on prayer, please share. I consider those kinds of things pure treasure. Thanks.

For those who enjoy deeper reflection, here are a few more prompts:

• What shaped your earliest understanding of prayer? Did prayer feel natural, intimidating, formal, emotional, distant?

• What are the unique strengths you bring to prayer? What are the challenges for you? How can praying together help strengthen, encourage, or balance one another in those areas?

• What makes communal prayer feel vulnerable? What kind of prayers tend to intimidate people?

• What qualities make you feel safe praying with other people?

• What has someone else’s prayer taught you about God?

• What helps prayer become a regular rhythm instead of a last resort? What kinds of practices have helped you grow in prayer?

• What does a healthy praying community look like in real life?

• What do we gain from praying alone with God that we cannot fully experience in a group? What do we gain from praying with other believers that we would likely miss alone?

• When have you experienced a community that was alive in prayer? What stood out?

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

I love helping connect one reader to another, so if you’re trying to find your people on Substack, explore these growing Community Directories.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas that shape the way I think and live.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

And as someone perpetually collecting ideas, quotes, essays, and half-finished thought trails, here are posts that connect to this conversation. Mostly sharing these so future me can find them again, but maybe you’ll enjoy wandering through them too.

• Wired to Pray by
  How God can retrain anxiety, overthinking, emotion, and inner intensity into deeper dependence, connection, and prayer.

• Some of the Ways We Love to Pray by , , , and
  A collaborative reflection on the many different ways people connect with God through prayer, imagination, silence, Scripture, gardening, friendship, and everyday life.

• What’s the Point of Prayer? by
  A thoughtful exploration of unanswered prayer, persistence, spiritual warfare, free will, and why prayer matters far beyond emotional comfort.

• Five Buckets for What Comes Your Way by
  A practical framework for sorting what lands in your lap through prayer, ownership, absorbing, entrusting, and discernment.

• When Prayer Re-Sizes Reality by
  A reflection on prayer as perspective, participation, and provision, especially when life, parenting, and ministry expose the limits of self-sufficiency.

• How Can We Pray Without Ceasing? by
  A practical reflection on learning to stay connected to God throughout ordinary life through continual, everyday prayer.

• Prayer Matters; Changes Lives by
  A moving story about years of prayer for a friend trapped in addiction, and a reminder that no one is beyond the reach of God’s transforming grace.

• When Two Lives Meet in Prayer by
  A story about friendship, aging, prayer, and the mysterious ways God answers prayers through ordinary people

• Why We Need Rituals and Also Don’t by
  On rhythms, habits, liturgies, and spiritual practices: why rituals help shape love, attention, and formation

• is currently working through a whole series on the Psalms as well. Once they are published, I’ll come back and add it in.

• And clearly you all know by now, all my posts are evergreen. So, as I read others, I’ll keep coming back here and updating this list to reflect that.

Glad you’re here,

— AJ

For years, I’ve described the feeling of being trapped beneath a heavy blanket, unable to breathe, weighed down by anxiety no matter the amount of inner healing and work I put in.

I tried EMDR1 but only made it two sessions in and was blocked by the inability to visualize a peaceful safe place. I asked if reading a book counts, or maybe riding a scooter. But the closest I could get was my bedroom when the world would turn off and everything was dark.

My body has been holding so much trauma, reflexively always wound up. Every time my husband would ask if I felt relaxed or a friend would point out a grimace, my gut reaction was anger—because I couldn’t even conceive of what stillness was.

Every day I was in a fight. With myself. With my body. Constantly I’ve had to choose against my feelings and try to ignore the discomfort because I especially didn’t want my kids to be afraid of sand, or dirt, or feel in a rush in life.

Despite how often I have gotten to experience amazing trips to the beach, every excursion drained me. Though I hid it, each sensation would make my skin crawl, my toes in the sand, the sounds all around me, the climbing agitation of what am I supposed to be doing, the qualminess of where do I belong, the need for desensitizing motion, and the ever present furtive glances at the clock, begging time to speed up and tick by so these sensations would end.

Only two weeks into neurodevelopmental therapy2, I’m realizing how much of my unease wasn’t just mental—it was my body itself. My nervous system treated every stimulus as a threat, keeping me locked in a constant state of fight or flight. My body was always on edge, refusing to let go.

But I’m beginning to feel relief with things like morning interactions, small talk, clutter, crumbs on the floor, crying or screaming kids, overlapping conversations, the feel of my clothes, and even just sitting or standing.

I am humbled that today at the beach, I was grounded and at ease in my skin and was able to really enjoy the time.

So much to be grateful for.

I wrote the above last February. Reading it now feels a little surreal because I can hardly recognize the person inside it.

When I think now about being “wired to heal,” I realize healing is far more layered than I once understood. Physical. Neurological. Emotional. Relational. Spiritual. None of these exist entirely separate from the others.

Over the last year, I’ve started realizing just how interconnected we are as humans. Our bodies affect our minds. Our relationships affect our nervous systems. Our thoughts affect our physical health. Our spiritual lives shape the way we carry suffering, fear, rest, hope, and love.

The more I started learning about neurodevelopment, nervous systems, sleep, trauma, spiritual formation, community, and prayer, the more curious I became. Because suddenly healing looked far bigger and more beautiful than I had previously imagined.

Why do some people heal quickly while others stay trapped in cycles of pain for years? What role do safety, community, sleep, trauma, surrender, neuroplasticity, prayer, and spiritual formation actually play? What has God already built into the human body and soul that we often overlook?

So rather than writing this piece entirely from my own perspective, I wanted to invite several people from different backgrounds and areas of expertise to speak into the conversation.

Each approaches healing from a different angle. Yet together, I think they reveal something beautiful:

We really are wired to heal.

So what does that mean exactly?

I’m a dual board-certified physician in sleep medicine and general pediatrics. As such, I get to help people of all ages—from infants to the elderly—with their sleep problems. It was while accompanying individuals on their journeys through the sleepless night, as well as through my own journey of integrated practice, that I was inspired to explore the intersection of sleep health and Christian theology by attending seminary. This eventually led to the publication of my debut book, Sleep Habits Journal: Practices, Prayers, and Devotions to Ease Your Sleepless Nights.

From these experiences, I now view healing as more than merely a return to bodily health or, in the case of insomnia, simply getting better sleep. Healing is more expansive. It involves who we are as spirit-body creatures, made in God’s image, existing in a particular time and place and embedded within particular communities.

Rest is essential to healing because it is essential for life. A heart must rest in order to beat again. A muscle must rest before it can grow stronger. We rest before we enter sleep. Our minds need stillness, boredom, quiet, and—of course, the sleep doctor must mention—sleep. One common misunderstanding about sleep is how deeply it points to our creatureliness.

Sleep is an important reminder of our limitations. Technology, productivity, and efficiency whisper promises in our ears that they cannot deliver. They convince us that, under the right circumstances and with enough effort, we can become like God, who never grows “tired or weary” (Isaiah 40:28) and never “slumbers nor sleeps” (Psalm 121:4). But we are not our Creator. We are creatures, as Karl Barth reminds us, who “take [our] place ... in the company of beasts and plants and stones.3” Although stones do not sleep, the remainder of living creation exists in a rhythmic solidarity of waking and activity contrasted with sleeping and quiescence—even down to the cellular level. When we do not live in accordance with our limitations, it is detrimental to our physical, emotional, and spiritual health.

Ignoring the gift of sleep has consequences. For example, there is a growing body of scientific literature demonstrating the connection between sleep and empathy. In one study by Guadagni et al., individuals who experienced a night of total sleep deprivation were significantly less empathetic than those with typical sleep4. Regarding spiritual health, the inverse relationship—how religion impacts sleep—is more commonly studied. An article by Hill, Deangelis, and Ellison provides an overview of this connection. Specifically, religious service attendance, frequency of prayer, religious importance, a view of the body as sacred, and belief in God’s control have all been associated with improved sleep5.

Sleep is a gift from God that restores our bodies and minds. By its very nature, sleep refreshes us, and this refreshing quality points us toward God’s sustaining power. To sleep is to experience God’s sustaining power in your body. Why does He give us sleep? Because He loves us, as we are reminded in Psalm 127:2: “For He gives to His beloved sleep.”

But what if your sleep is not refreshing? What if you do not get anywhere close to the recommended seven to nine hours for adults? Does this necessarily mean you are outside of God’s love? Certainly not. It means you are a vulnerable creature living in a world abounding with brokenness.

No matter how “insufficient” the amount of sleep you get may seem, that does not mean it ceases to be a gift. You may not feel refreshed, but that does not mean you received nothing. Humans participate in learning and acquiring knowledge, but it is partly through sleep—even insufficient sleep—that information becomes something you truly know6. Quite literally, human understanding depends upon a process over which we have absolutely no control. God gives us understanding in our sleep.

Even something as mundane as remembering what you had for breakfast yesterday is part of the gift of sleep. It is by God’s grace that we go to bed with a problem or a sorrow but awaken with a perfect solution or a little more hope. It is by God’s grace that an artist or musician finds inspiration in a dream, or that a grieving mother receives another opportunity to hug the child she has lost. To experience these gifts of sleep—no matter how small or infrequent they may be—is to experience God’s love in your body. And it is by that love that we are wired to heal.

I’m a pediatric cardiologist, so healing is central to my vocation. I care for infants and children with heart disease, often congenital. Many of these children need surgery, catheter-based procedures, medications, or long-term monitoring. So much of my work involves deciding what kind of healing is needed, when, and what risks are worth taking to pursue it.

One thing medicine has taught me is that identifying pathology does not automatically mean intervening immediately. Sometimes the wisest thing is to wait and watch because the body may heal or adapt on its own. Other times, waiting becomes dangerous, and real healing requires intervention. That intervention may be painful, risky, and frightening. In pediatric cardiology, we can err in either direction. We can rush too quickly to fix what might heal with time, or we can avoid necessary intervention because we fear the pain and risk involved.

That has shaped how I think about healing in other domains. Emotional and spiritual healing often require the same kind of wisdom: knowing when to give time and space, and knowing when love requires us to step into something painful.

At the deepest level, Christians believe the human problem is not merely informational or psychological, but spiritual. We are sinners who cannot save ourselves. The way of Jesus is paradoxical: we die to live, surrender to be free, release control in order to receive life. That is beautiful, but it is also deeply unsettling. Many of us would rather manage ourselves than surrender ourselves.

Psychology helps explain why this is so difficult. We are not purely rational decision-makers. We choose what brings short-term emotional relief, even when it undermines long-term healing. We fear loss more than gain, so letting go of control or security feels threatening, even if it leads to life. Repeated patterns become familiar, and familiar pain can feel safer than unfamiliar healing.

Underneath much of this are deep longings and insecurities. We were created in God’s image for intimacy with Him, meaning, and love. Those desires are echoes of what we were made for. But we often attach them to things that cannot bear their weight. We build identities around being competent, admired, or in control. Once our identity depends on those things, we make distorted decisions to protect them.

One thing we often misunderstand is that insight is not the same as transformation. Right belief matters deeply, but real change usually comes as the Holy Spirit slowly forms us through Scripture, prayer, worship, community, and suffering. It also requires recognizing that we live in a spiritual battle, where resistance and discouragement are not always merely psychological. Healing requires surrender, courage, and a willingness to walk through pain.

Humans are wired to heal because we are made in the image of God, who is not only the Great Physician but the Great Restorer. The arc of Scripture points toward resurrection and renewal: Jesus risen from the dead, His people raised with Him, and ultimately the restoration of the heavens and the earth. God has promised to make all things new. So when we long for healing in ourselves, our relationships, and the broken world around us, that longing reflects something true about what we were made for.

That also means restorative work is deeply meaningful. God calls each of us, in different ways, to confront the brokenness woven through creation and participate in His work of renewal. I feel this often in my work as a pediatric cardiologist. There are few things more meaningful than stepping into the life of a family facing the illness or possible death of a child and bringing whatever competence, compassion, and care I can offer. Much of my work, like anyone’s, is frustrating and ordinary. But in those moments, I feel something of the pleasure of God, deeply engaged in the work of my Father.

I’ve worked for over a decade as a Doctor of Physical Therapy and have an undergraduate degree in biology, physiology. I learned a structural and functional framework for how the body operated. Once I started clinical work, I observed a huge variation in how patients actually healed and recovered compared to how the textbooks described. This sparked my curiosity to continue learning and discovering how we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

There are at least four layers that are affected and work together during healing from an injury. The first are the local tissues that are damaged at the moment of injury. The second are the adjacent tissues and joints that may weaken or compensate in response to the initial injury. The third are systemic factors (circulation, inflammation, metabolism, overall bodily health) that affect healing. And the fourth is the role of the brain in processing the pain and injury.

In healing, we often overlook the importance of those third and fourth layers. Sometimes we get fixated on what is happening at or around the site of injury and think of our body like a simple machine, that we can just fix a part, and we’ll be better. But we are far more complicated. Sometimes, the tissue itself has actually healed, and the problem is in how our bodies are processing the pain. Our brain can unconsciously act like a faulty smoke detector that continues to go off even after the fire is extinguished.

One thing I’ve learned is that ongoing emotional and social stressors often delay or stall healing, alter our pain processing, and transform acute pain into chronic pain. That said, we are wired to heal best when our bodies and minds feel safe and connected to others.

As a Christian, I believe this aligns with the Shalom, or wholeness, that God created us for: we are primed to heal when we are filled with peace and a loving personal presence (safe and connected), though that does not mean healing always comes in the way we hope for or on the timeline we desire this side of eternity, something I explore more deeply in my “Does God Want Us to Be Healthy?” series.

Returning to the emotional and social factors, there’s a study that I learned about in my pain neuroscience education program that illustrates their significance in injury and healing. Researchers looked at the incidence of neck pain in demolition derby drivers compared to standard car accidents and found significantly less whiplash disorders and long-term pain in the derby drivers than their counterparts. Though the mechanism of injury was nearly identical the social context, emotions, internal narrative and expectations were drastically different.

One former patient especially stuck with me. He was in his early twenties and had a straight-forward joint sprain that was not responding to typical treatment. After several visits with no progress he came in one day and reported a complete resolution of symptoms. The only notable change in his routine–he had gotten a puppy. Now, I generally think of healthy relationships with God and humans as wiring us to heal. But let’s not underestimate the role of man’s best friend in providing enough comfort and connection to allow our bodies to heal in the way they were created to.

I’ve spent a couple of decades in local church leadership and currently work part-time for a Christian charity focused on equipping and encouraging the local church to impact communities and nations. Much of my work involves gatherings, conferences, festivals, and prayer ministry spaces where healing is often prayed for openly and expectantly. Over the years, I have both witnessed and personally experienced moments where healing came suddenly and miraculously. I have also experienced seasons where the healing being prayed for did not come in the way I hoped or expected.

Those experiences have deeply shaped how I think about healing. Remembering that God is both sovereign and Father changes the posture from which we pray. When we ask for healing grounded in the confidence that God loves us, is for us, and is fully able to heal, it removes the pressure from us to somehow produce the outcome ourselves. Healing is not ultimately about our performance, our wording, or our ability to “get it right.” And when healing does not come in the way we long for, we are still left with the unchanging reality that God is good. That allows us to grieve honestly while continuing to trust Him in the tension of the “not yet” we all live with this side of heaven.

One of the saddest misunderstandings I encounter is the idea that unanswered healing must mean someone lacked faith. I believe that is deeply damaging and simply untrue. Healing is not about praying perfectly or discovering some hidden spiritual formula. It is God’s work. The Holy Spirit heals in His wisdom and timing, and that means the burden does not rest on us. Sometimes healing comes instantly. Sometimes it unfolds slowly over time. Sometimes it comes through medicine, counseling, surgery, community, or practical care. And sometimes ultimate healing waits for eternity. But none of those outcomes change the character of God or His love toward us.

I’m also fascinated by the ways God has designed the human body and mind to participate in healing. From a neuroplasticity perspective, there are remarkable stories of the brain adapting, rewiring, and creating new pathways after trauma or injury. Stroke recovery is one example that continually amazes me. It reminds me that we often underestimate the healing capacities God has already woven into creation. While I try to avoid simplistic or sweeping statements, I do think we sometimes overlook the power of our words, our thoughts, and the agreements we continually make within ourselves. The stories we rehearse, the hope we hold onto, and the truths we return to can shape us more deeply than we realize.

I am a Biblical expositor, counselor, counselor trainer, and professor. I work in both realms of counseling: clinical and pastoral, which I find to be incredibly effective and fulfilling. I view the human as a living soul which is comprised of numerous faculties (e.g. the mind, heart, body etc.). Healing for me is a matter of formation of the human spirit – the process of becoming a whole soul while in a broken world. The process of not getting rid of the storms in life but of becoming the kind of person who can sleep in the midst of them, or in other words, the kind of person who can live abundantly in a world of trouble. I spend much of my time working out, developing, and training counselors on a philosophical approach to care that I’m calling Formation Centered Counseling. It’s my belief that healing is a matter of learning to follow Christ into the transformation He offers in the midst of life’s woes, not learning to escape or merely find relief.

I find that relief is like morphine, it merely impairs your ability to recognize you’re not okay. It’s deceptive in that it may very well cause someone to live their life with a serious wound as long as they can keep medicating or “finding relief”. Transformation, on the other hand, deals with the wound. It goes through the long and very difficult journey of healing and therapy – not to get rid of the wound but to become the kind of person for whom the wound no longer has the power to impair. With relief, the “methods” have the power over the wound, but with transformation, you become the one with power over the wound. It’s my belief that spiritual formation is where we must put our focus and energy in the journey of transformation. It’d take a long time to explain, but in short, the human spirit is the executive center of the entire person – the heart. If the spirit doesn’t undergo fundamental transformation there’s no real hope for any of the other faculties.

Humans cannot heal without surrender of all control or without a clear view of how good God is. Self-reliance, the attempt to control what you can’t control in efforts to keep oneself safe will contribute more to one’s inability to heal than almost anything else. Healing, transformation must be built on the foundation of self-surrender and trust in a good God who intends to act towards your benefit, even in the troubles of this world.

A few days after writing the story that opened this piece, I wrote this in my notes:

I never had the courage to pray for healing.

Yes, I prayed that God would help me with my anxiety disorder—the panic attacks that left me gasping for air on the floor, the constant sense of doom hanging over me.

From the moment I started my relationship with God, I experienced so much healing—freedom from a crippling drug addiction and the ability to rebuild my life.

But the anxiety remained. No matter how much I searched for relief, I didn’t realize that the anxiety was just a symptom, not the root cause.

I had no idea that treating my brain dysfunction would bring the healing I had been longing for.

Now, I’m keeping a list of everything that’s completely different and it just keeps growing.

This morning, I woke up with a smile on my face. I was able to show affection, to give hugs and receive kisses from my husband and the kids.

I walked out of the eye doctor’s office wearing my new glasses without ripping them off in frustration.

And today, I gave blood.

After a year of failed attempts, appointments filled with endless pokes, and never being able to draw enough, I finally did it.

Some of you have told me you don’t know how I didn’t give up or get bitter. Honestly, I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I felt relief. And no—I’m not angry.

I’m just in awe of a prayer I couldn’t pray being answered.

Continuing the Conversation

If you missed it, here’s Part One on being Wired to Pray. And if you’re new to my publication, here’s a little of my story and all God has done.

This piece only touches part of the conversation around healing. There are still important questions left untouched here. Chronic illness. Grief. Lament. The reality that sometimes healing does not come the way we hope for this side of heaven. The tension of the “not yet.”

So, if this piece feels clarifying, incomplete, hopeful, unresolved, encouraging, or even tension-filled, that may mean the conversation is not finished yet.

For those wanting to continue thinking through some of the “not yet” tensions around suffering, grief, emotion, embodiment, and spiritual maturity, I’d also highly recommend:

• ’s “Why I’m a Christian, Not a Stoic.”

• ’s “Finding Beauty in Suffering ”

• ’s conversation with , “Getting Through What You’re Going Through”

All three explore different facets of suffering, hope, endurance, and what it means to walk honestly with God through pain.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

I love helping connect one reader to another, so if you’re trying to find your people on Substack, explore these growing Community Directories.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas that shape the way I think and live.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

Glad you’re here,

— AJ

That wasn’t my experience.

When I first became a parent, I would take my toddler to the park, and she was so cautious. We’d climb to the top of the playground, and even if no one was there when she arrived, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Other kids would climb up behind her while she stood there, taking her time.

She could feel them.

Instead of going down the slide, she would slowly back up, letting each child pass.

Her dad and I would gently encourage her.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You can go.”

But almost every trip to the park looked like that.
Hesitation. Watching. Waiting.
More often than not, we’d end up eating snacks or on the swings.

Then our second came along, and I assumed he’d be different.

More bold.
More ready to jump in.
But he was even more cautious.

Because of that, park days used to feel like being pulled in two directions.

I was surrounded by a large community of moms, and I genuinely wanted to connect. But I knew how it would go. I’d arrive, try to talk, and both of my kids would be wrapped around my legs, uncomfortable in the space they’d just stepped into.

It felt like I had to choose between being present with my kids or present with my friends.

Then I realized what they needed from me first.

The First 15 Minutes at the Park

If you’re meeting a friend at the park, here’s what changed everything for us:

For the first 10–15 minutes, don’t focus on your friend.
Focus on your child.

Put your phone away.
Get on the playground.
Run. Climb. Go down the slide.

Be the person they can follow when they’re not ready to go first.

That simple shift gave my kids the confidence they needed to start playing.

The Playground Secret

Now my kids are six and eight, and I still see a version of that same hesitation when we enter somewhere new.

But I also notice something else. So many parents sitting on the bench. No judgment at all. Sometimes you need the break. I get it.

But I’ve started to wonder if, sometimes, we have it a little backwards. What if moving with them is just as much for us as it is for them?

When I step in early—start a game of tag, send them on a mission to find the “secret path” across the playground without touching the ground, or just give just a little direction—they follow.

And it doesn’t take long before they don’t need my direction anymore. They’re off creating and imagining. It just takes a little modeling to get there.

And here’s the part that still surprises me. Almost every time we go to the park, it starts with just me and my two kids.

But by the end, I’m surrounded.

Kids we’ve never met are joining in.
Asking to play.
Running alongside us.

It doesn’t take much.
Start something, and kids come.

And eventually, your kids will climb on their own.

Something to Reach For

If imaginative play doesn’t come naturally to you, I get that. Life is full. Energy is limited. And sometimes getting through the day already feels like a win.

I have those days too. But I’ve always found myself turning everyday moments into little games or adventures with my kids. Those moments fill up with conversation. Some deeply meaningful. Some incredibly silly. And many nights end with us reading or creating our own story worlds together.

So, when I think about the children’s books and Bible studies I’ve written, they hold a little of all of that. They carry the story, but they don’t just end with words. They turn into games, activities, prompts, even recipes. Things you can actually step into with your kids.

I designed them so that on low-energy days, you can just open and go and immediately have something to do together. My kids will forever be obsessed with monster tag. Honestly, any kind of tag is a win in our house.

You can learn more about my free Bible study PDFs here. If you prefer something you can hold, I’ve also put them into book form—Galatians and Thessalonians.

Or if you’re looking for something more playful, you can join Hammerton on his quest to find the dragon as he learns patience, follow Zibble as he works through his K, L, and R sounds, or step into stories with Fiara and Hammerton as they learn to steward their money, and with Fiara as she processes young grief.

Learning From Each Other

I know I’m not the only one thinking about this. There are others creating really thoughtful ways to engage kids in everyday life. Here are a few posts I especially enjoyed this month, along with a few that added something meaningful to the mix.

• Everyday Discipleship — I’ve especially appreciated what Matt Brewer is building. His page is full of simple, practical ways to live out faith as a family.

• Making Marvelous Memories — Tara shares simple, everyday ideas for spending time with your kids and creating meaningful moments together.

• Raising Godly Children — Tyler Gordon offers a thoughtful look at how deeply our everyday choices shape what our children come to love and imitate.

• More Than Just a Walk — Brooke Z shares simple ways to turn everyday walks into something fun and meaningful together.

• Raising Capable Kids — Mollie Donghia gives a thoughtful look at helping kids grow in responsibility, independence, and resilience over time.

• Cultivating the Neighborhood Community — Tanya Gunderson shares a beautiful picture of building intentional, everyday community and creating a “village” for our kids to grow up in.

• Books, Learning, and Wonder — Asheritah offers a beautiful take on growing wonder and a love of learning in everyday life.

• Anger in Motherhood — Whitney Aguirre shares an honest look at anger and how to work through both the heart and the practical side of it.

• The Crown of Parenting — Ché reflects on the joy of grandparenting and watching your children raise their own families.

And if you’re hoping to connect with other families who love Jesus, I’ve started building a little directory you’re welcome to explore. I shared more about it in my recent post, What Keeps Writers Going.

One last thing I wanted to share.

This Tuesday from 8–9 pm EST, I’ll be hosting a virtual Substack Mom’s Meetup.

I’d love for you to join if you’re free. You can find all the details to sign up here.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about finding your people on Substack.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

Helping people meet Jesus is something I believe in with my whole heart. I know God gives each of us different gifts, things that light us up. This is one He has given me.

But I don’t think what I’m describing is limited to a specific kind of person. I think it’s what naturally happens when someone knows they are loved by God. That love begins to show up in how we see people, how we think about them, how we respond.

And within every person’s life, there are people who are spiritually hungry for Jesus and have not yet had the chance to hear about His grace and His love.

So how do we participate with God in His invitation to help others come to know His love?

For some people, it really is simple. The woman at the well met Jesus and immediately went to tell others to come and meet Him too.

But if sharing your faith is that simple, why do so many of us hesitate?

There are real questions underneath that hesitation. Some people wonder if they know enough. Others do not know how to begin. Some have never seen it modeled. And for many, there are fears that quietly hold them back.

Books on evangelism can be encouraging. I have read many of them and truly enjoy them. But even after reading, something still felt incomplete. I was surrounded by people who had taken classes and read the books, yet when it came to actually inviting others to meet Jesus, something was not translating into real life.

So I asked Jesus what made sharing my faith feel simple and freeing. I wondered if it was my story, or the way I am wired, or how naturally I think about people and pray for them. I wondered if it was the way I notice small openings for connection.

Those things do play a role, but what I sensed from Him was deeper than that.

It comes down to identity.

When someone is rooted in who they are in Christ, fully loved and secure, something changes. They are not trying to become a light. They simply are one. There is no striving to prove anything. There is a quiet overflow that comes from being filled. And from that place, boldness begins to grow.

But this still leaves the practical question. How does that actually help someone share their faith?

It helps because it gives us the right starting point. If we move too quickly past identity into what we feel we should do, we will not become a wellspring. Anything we share that is truly good must come from a place where we are experiencing that goodness ourselves.

It becomes less about effort and more about response. Look what God has done. Look what He is doing. When that is real to us, we begin to notice His invitations. We start to see people differently. We grow in awareness of His promptings and learn to move in step with His Spirit.

Because of that, we don’t start with what we should do. We start with the heart.

There’s a line often attributed to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry that I’ve always loved:

If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood, divide the work, and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.

That’s what this is about. Not learning how to say the right things, but growing in a love for God and for people that naturally begins to move outward.

Identity is not the end point. It is the foundation.

From there, the question becomes how we actually live this out. Not in theory, but in the quiet, ordinary moments of our lives. In conversations we didn’t plan for. In interruptions we could easily ignore. In the small promptings that don’t feel significant, but are.

As I’ve been sitting with this, I’ve realized it isn’t as complicated as we make it. What we need is not a better strategy, but a more responsive life.

A life that stays close enough to Jesus to recognize His voice.
A life that is grounded in our identity as loved and sent.
A life that flows from being His, not proving anything.
A life that slows down enough to notice what He is doing.
A life that is willing to move when He prompts.

Over time, those responses begin to take shape as rhythms that form in us as we walk with Him. Abiding. Listening. Initiating. Creating. Depending. All of it built around this idea of breaking things down into the tiniest next step imaginable.

Because when we are rooted in who we are in Christ, and willing to respond in small ways, over time something begins to grow. What once felt complicated becomes natural. What once felt intimidating becomes familiar. And slowly, almost without realizing it, our lives begin to reflect Him, and become a life of overflow.

Encouragement for the Long Road

If you have ever tried to share your writing, you know how demanding the process can be. There is the initial idea, the work of shaping it, the editing, the feedback, and eventually something that feels ready enough to share.

When I started writing Uncontainable: Living from the Overflow of Identity into a Life of Impact, I did not set out to write a book. But within a few months, I had a full manuscript. It was divided into two parts, identity and impact. I shared it with friends and began to receive feedback.

One friend, a school vice principal, would send thoughtful encouragement as she read. This is one of the things she shared back.

Another led a women’s Bible study and more than twenty women walked through it together. For four months, I received weekly feedback, reflections, and even survey responses on what was most helpful.

Here are some of the highlights that were shared:

In What Ways Did The Book Impact You?

• This book reminded me of why I am here in the first place. I have been loved by a great God whose love is so abundant it must go out unto others.

• I think it really helped point out thoughts that I’ve had that I either didn’t know I had but also with some truth to combat it. I also love the constant pointing to how this is from of a place of being loved and cared for by God.

• It helped me see things differently and have greater boldness! It was super challenging to my thought-life and how to continue taking steps in my walk with God

• This book was awakening, convicting, and inspiring.

• I was left feeling – hopeful, excited, secure

• I felt challenged/encouraged, loved the chapter on the armor of God and Depending on God. Many of your analogies in general are very memorable

What is the biggest ideas you are taking away from the book?

• I loved the first step momentum. Super helpful day to day, but the 3rd paragraph in the depending chapter will stick with me (our role vs gods role) & the baseball analogy about everyone playing their role

• “Lavished grace reminds us: You don’t have to compete for God’s attention. You already have it. The Father’s house isn’t crowded. There’s more than enough.” Chapter 4, Scarcity Mindset.

• The last 3 chapters and the lavished and armed chapters. The biggest thing I’m walking away with is how much inner life plays a role in sharing our faith and how much heavy lifting God does!!

If you had to describe this book’s main value in one sentence, what would you say?

• A book that encourages followers of God to consider their role in the body of Christ and how to continue to pursue his plan for our lives based on his promises.

• Connecting with god’s love will inevitably overflow to others around

Who do you think this book is best suited for?

• Everyday believers!! It’s so easy to understand and super challenging to people at all parts of their walk. I know it’s focused on sharing our faith, but it’s such a good reminder of God’s truth, character, our role as a follower of God, that anyone would benefit.

• Anyone and everyone. From youth groups to retirement homes, the one day old Christian to a church’s elder, even non believers may experience an impact in how they see God and Christianity.

• I think this is good for younger believers wanting to take steps, for everyday believers and I think too for people who have lost their heart for sharing their faith

Then I let it sit.

I did not have the capacity to take the next steps. Later, I realized I had not asked a single man to read it. So I shared it again. That gave me a new perspective and some helpful feedback to work through.

That was around December. And it’s just been sitting.

But recently, I caught up with the friend who had gone through it with her women’s Bible study. There were about twenty women in the group, and what she shared deeply moved me.

For two years, they hadn’t had many guests come to hear about Jesus. But after reading the book, that began to change. Almost every week, someone new started showing up. And since then, three women have come to personal faith in Jesus.

I cannot take credit for that, and I would not even try to. But I do know that while they were reading, something shifted. Fear began to loosen. People started taking small risks again. And my friend shared that prior to my book she had forgotten the joy of sharing her faith and now she’s getting to experience it again. That’s the kind of fruit that only God can produce.

And it’s more than enough to keep me moving forward.

I would love to give this project more attention, but it is not my highest priority right now. Before Substack, anything I created I would just share freely with friends. I would simply send Google documents. Part of me still wants to do that with this book, and I probably will for anyone who asks.

But another part of me wants to bring it to its fullest form and eventually publish it. I don’t really know the timeline. It could be soon, or it could take years.

But God does.

So for now, I am learning to stay faithful in the process. To keep drawing near to Jesus, to keep saying yes to what is in front of me, and to let the rest unfold in His timing. If the fruit is real, it will come.

And if even a few people are lit up with the courage to share Jesus with their whole heart, that is worth far more than a finished timeline.

Share The Messy Middle

I used to struggle with crippling anxiety when it came to sharing anything. This could be as simple as swapping a paper in college, to speaking in front of a group of people, to fear in letting someone read my work.

But over the years God has done a work in my heart. I am not the same person anymore. Yes, sharing is vulnerable, but overtime it has gotten easier. Encouragement plays a big role, reps play a big role, but what I didn’t realize early on is how much growth I was missing by keeping things to myself.

I have met so many people with thoughtful, meaningful work who have never let anyone see it. No peer feedback. No shared process. And while you can write something all the way through on your own, you miss out on a lot when no one sees it until the end.

Every time you share something before it’s ready, you’re learning how to handle feedback, how to sit with discomfort, how to not shut down when it doesn’t land the way you hoped. This really is one of the top skills a writer needs to learn because writing it is only part of the journey, the rest of the time will be learning how to share it, receive response, and keep going. If you haven’t read Training Your Nervous System to Receive Rejection as an Invitation to Maturation by Griffin Gooch, I highly recommend it. It not only helped me see this process more clearly, it made me realize I’m probably not getting rejected nearly enough.

So, if you are in the process of writing a book or working out your publication, talk about it in person with a friend, share a section of it with someone you respect. Ask them for feedback. And if you’re feeling brave, share the almost finished work with some friends. I can even loan you my survey so you can get clear, helpful feedback.

Because in this crazy, wild writing journey, you might realize that before your work ever gets out there, it mostly collects dust in long stretches of waiting. So, what better way to bring it to life than to open the door and let someone into where you are right now.

If you have a heart for sharing your faith and wondering where to start, I highly recommend reading How to Talk About Jesus (Without Being That Guy) by Sam Chan. Or if you’re needing something extra to put some fire inside. Read Evangelism as Exiles by Elliott Clarke.

I’ve also put together some guided devotional studies that walk me through Scripture, reflection, and prayer, helping me grow in God’s heart for all people and respond in simple ways. I hope they are a blessing to you in sharing your faith.

– AJ

Am I the only one who ends up writing full post-length reflections… for what was supposed to be a simple note?

I’ve been thinking about the difference between notes and long-form posts. In theory, notes are simple. One idea shared quickly. And I love that about them. It’s probably why I share so many. But I’ve realized something about how I use Substack that’s a little different.

I don’t really think about notes as a growth tool. I know every feature can be used that way, but I’m just not wired around metrics. What I want most is for the things I write to reach the people already here. And sadly, notes don’t always do that.

Posts are the only real guarantee.

But even then… I don’t email everything out. I’ve always wanted this space to let me write freely about what matters to me, without overwhelming people’s inboxes. Which, to be fair, is not exactly the strategy for maximum visibility. But I don’t care. Because for me, this space is first something I write for myself—with the added gift of a community alongside it.

The downside is that a lot of the smaller insights get lost. There’s no easy way (that I know of) to search through someone’s notes, and the more I write, the more I realize how many of those quick thoughts just disappear. Not to mention, Substack has made changes this past year that seem to favor quick, viral content and make depth a little harder to surface. (More on that in coming posts.)

So, I’m trying something a little different.

I’m going to start sharing more of those actual notes here in my Publish It Yourself section. Shorter, simpler, and a bit more in the moment. That we can all easily find because they’re not notes in the wind, but gathered and kept in one place. My brain is already breathing easier.

(You’ll only get these by email if you update your settings. Here’s how.)

If you aren’t recommending others, you should start.

When I first started recommending others, it wasn’t thought out. I’d read something I liked, restack it, and say a little about them.

And as with most things on Substack, I did it my own way first… then realized there’s actually a built-in feature that supports this really well.

Cue: Recommendations.

You can go into your dashboard and recommend other publications. Here’s how.

From that point forward, anyone new who subscribes to you is also prompted to subscribe to those publications too.

The reason I’m emphasizing this now is because early on, a lot of my growth came from reading and commenting on other publications.

But life picked up, and I’ve had less time to be as active here.

And yet… new people are still finding their way in.

A big part of that has been through others recommending me. Which means the work someone else is doing is, in a way, lifting me up too.

That’s what makes this feature so meaningful.

If you’ve been following along, you know I care about growing in a sustainable way. I don’t think we’re meant to push hard 12 months out of the year. And this is one of those ways we can keep momentum without constant output—by helping each other’s work get seen.

To be fair, cold recommendations will lead to unsubscribes. But that’s not a bad thing, so don’t let it discourage you. The goal isn’t to have everyone subscribe. It’s to make real connections.

Also, I’ve never direct messaged someone asking them to recommend me. But I’ve had others ask me—and honestly, I’ve really enjoyed getting to read their work and write something thoughtful in return. It makes me want to help us all overcome that hesitation that can keep us from reaching out. Someone else’s courage makes the little things feel more doable. We can be that for each other.

So, four things:

First, if you enjoy my publication and haven’t recommended it yet… here’s a small, shameless plug to make up for my complete lack of asking.

Second, I have a Substack insights post coming next month. It’ll be very practical—sharing lessons learned, what’s made things smoother, and any updates Substack has rolled out. If there’s anything you’d want me to cover, feel free to fill out this survey or leave a question in the comments.

Third, if you are new here, I’ve been writing through a Substack growth series. It’s helped demystify the platform, humanize growth, and keep the focus on community over optimization—learning how to build something meaningful without losing what matters most. Start here with part 1.

And lastly, I’ve begun building Community Directories—so you can plug in wherever it fits and start building your own community.

• Faith + Formation – Theology, Jesus-first reflections, Biblical study, Everyday discipleship, Faith in motion

• Church Leadership + Ministry – Pastors, Elders, Ministry leaders, Sermon writers, Church planters, Staff teams

• Family + Home Life – Marriage, Parenting, Motherhood, Fatherhood, Family discipleship, Education

• Care + Inner Life – Counseling, Grief, Healing, Health

• Writing + Creative Work – Writing support, Publishing journey

• Fantasy / Speculative Storytelling – Worldbuilding, Allegory, Imaginative fiction

• Children’s Books / Kidlit – Picture books, Early readers, Middle grade, Faith-based children’s resources

• Poetry – Devotional poetry, Literary poetry, Spoken word, Short-form reflection

• Platform + Community – Substack (community building and real-time discovery), Community Highlighters

I’m thankful you’re writing here, and I’m cheering you on as you find your people and keep going.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about Substack and Community. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

And for those wanting to dive deeper into Substack and community, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Recommendations, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s
Bonus: Community Directories — Find Your People

I would love it if you filled out this anonymoussurvey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

I would love it if you filled out this anonymous survey to share your real questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

Girls are mean—and honestly, ours are too. And before anyone bristles at that sentence, I don’t just mean other people’s daughters. I mean mine too.

On any given week, part of parenting is helping our kids navigate hurt feelings, misunderstandings, exclusion, sharp tones, delayed reactions, and the complicated reality of learning how to be around other humans.

Lately, we’ve had several ordinary kid moments where one comment, one tone, or one offhand remark landed harder than the child intended. Sometimes it was about appearance. Sometimes it was about inclusion. Sometimes it was simply the sharpness in the way something was said. And like most kids, mine are learning in real time too. Sometimes they’re the ones who feel hurt. Sometimes they’re the ones who speak too quickly, misunderstand intent, react emotionally, or unintentionally wound someone else.

One thing I’m realizing is that just because a child doesn’t react in the moment doesn’t mean the hurt disappears. Sometimes it resurfaces later in quieter ways. A child suddenly stops wanting to wear something they once loved because of a comment someone made. Or built-up hurt comes out sideways later during an unrelated disagreement.

This is one of the hardest parts of relationships for all of us: what someone means and what someone feels are not always the same thing.

There was a moment recently where a few kids were playing together, and when another child came over, one of them matter-of-factly said, “This game is better with two people.” It wasn’t meant cruelly. But you could visibly see the other child shrink back.

This is just part of the process of learning how to be with other people. It’s tempting in these moments to want to pull back, to avoid situations that feel hard or messy. But avoiding hard things doesn’t remove difficulty—it often increases our anxiety around it. I learned that personally after a car accident years ago. I started avoiding highways, and before I knew it, my life became more limited. My anxiety didn’t get better—it grew. The only way forward was slowly rebuilding my ability to face what felt uncomfortable.

Relationships work the same way. The closer we get to people, the more opportunity there is for hurt. But that’s not a reason to withdraw—it’s a reason to grow. I want my kids to know how to make, build, and keep healthy friendships. This requires learning how to forgive, how to be gracious, how to be patient, how to be kind. I want them to know how to speak up, how to set boundaries, how to repair when they’ve been the one who caused harm.

In our home, my kids know they are protected, guided, and deeply loved. But that love doesn’t stop with them—it extends to their friends too. Because the goal isn’t to raise kids who avoid conflict, it’s to raise kids who know how to move through it with many tools in their hands. Who don’t hideaway when relationships get hard, but learn how to love well inside of them.

This is the kind of love we’re learning to practice:

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other…” (Ephesians 4:32).

And over and over again, in the middle of those moments, I find myself praying:

Jesus, teach them how to love.
And when they don’t know how—teach me how to lead them through it.

This is where they learn it. Through all of these small, messy, ordinary moments.

If it’s helpful, here are some relationship truths we fight to remember (and are always adding to):

• It’s okay to say, “That hurt my feelings”

• Not reacting in the moment doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. We can come back to it.

• You don’t have to change what you love because of someone else’s opinion. You can say, “That’s your opinion, but I like this”

• Even if you think you’re right, the other person has feelings too—listen first.

• Give the benefit of the doubt. We’re for each other, not against each other—even when it doesn’t feel like it.

• Always talk to the person, not about them.

• It’s not just what you say but how you say it.

• What you mean and what people feel aren’t always the same.

• No one likes to feel left out. Look for a way to include.

• Not everything needs a response. Sometimes a good distraction goes further than working it out right away.

• No one is perfect. We all have bad days—sometimes we’re the ones who are unkind, and sometimes it’s someone else.

But even with every tool, it’s hard to know what to do in the moment. So, from one parent to another, one of the biggest takeaways God has been steadily teaching me is to pray right there in real time. More and more, I’ve found myself not reacting immediately. Sometimes I genuinely don’t know how to step in or what the right words are. Instead of forcing it, I let the moment pass.

What I’ve noticed is that God often provides what’s needed after. An opening. A softer moment. A chance to come back to it with clarity. Those follow-up conversations have become some of the most important ground in our parenting. That’s where we slow things down, talk through what actually happened, help our kids put words to what they felt, role-play what they could say next time, and bring it before the Lord together.

Creating Space for These Conversations

So much of what has shaped my parenting is Jesus. Learning His words and learning how to live and teach them with my kids. Later that night, when my daughter and I were processing what happened, she said, “Mom, I love that you’re my best friend. I can’t wait for our next date. Can we take a bike ride to Blanchard, bring our Bibles, and make a picnic?”

These conversations are happening all the time. But it’s these kinds of spaces, intentional and relational, rooted in God’s Word, that create the safety and opportunity for our kids to learn how to love Jesus’ way.

If you’re new to teaching the Bible at home, I’ve created simple, open-and-go Kid’s Bible study PDFs that make it easy to sit down and learn the Bible with your child. As they get older, your kids can begin to do them on their own, but they were designed to be done together.

Because even when conversations don’t come naturally, these kinds of tools can help create space for them. Space to slow down, open the Bible, talk, ask questions, and pray. Over time, those small, intentional moments become the ground where so much of this formation takes place.

That’s where they learn to love Jesus’ way.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about finding your people on Substack. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

Several years ago there were parts of my life I felt embarrassed about. You might be surprised to learn that one of those things was how much I loved reading. Ideas were always bubbling up, but instead of embracing that, I often felt like I needed to tone it down. There is a particular feeling when you bring up a book you loved and watch someone’s eyes glaze over because they never even picked up the first one you mentioned. After enough moments like that, it starts to feel like maybe you will never find friends who want to soar over ideas the way you long for.

But three years ago my circle of friendships widened. Suddenly there was someone else who was just as lit up about reading and unafraid to share what they were learning. Seeing someone else carry that kind of confidence was one of the little markers in my life that got the wheels turning in my mind, that maybe, just maybe, I did not need to shrink what lit me up.

I got this little idea: what if I had the courage to take some of the stories I had made and turn them into a book? I began researching everything I could get my hands on. I read book after book about writing well (see this post if you want some of my favorite resources). I learned about self publishing, dove deep into Canva, started assembling my work into actual books, and almost as an aside created this Substack.

What I did not understand at the time was that learning to write was only half the journey. The other half was learning to be seen. It is one thing to create quietly in your own corner. It is another to press publish and allow your work to stand in the light. Skill can be developed in isolation. Courage almost never is.

So how do we stop shrinking the very things that make us come alive? How do we learn to share what we love without apologizing for it? The answer, at least in part, is that we stop trying to go it alone and begin embracing encouragement, both giving and receiving it.

Encouragement does not usually start with us. God often uses ordinary encouragement to keep people from quitting. A thoughtful comment. A timely message. A simple “me too.” These moments can mark the difference between stepping back and continuing bravely. Most writers are not lacking talent. They are lacking reinforcement. Many of us can trace our growth back to a single moment when someone saw us clearly and said, keep going.

Before we become generous encouragers, we have to see what it looks like. Eight months ago, Paul Christopher stumbled across one of my posts, restacked it, and invited others into the conversation. I was startled by the sudden engagement. It felt vulnerable to see my work circulating beyond the small circle I had grown comfortable with. But Paul did not stop there. He continued to publicly affirm my writing, and that became a turning point in my confidence.

At face value, what he did was simple. He shared a post. He wrote an encouraging note. Yet in a culture where encouragement can be sparse, seeing someone lift another person up without calculating what they might gain changes you. It gives you permission to do the same. Paul did not simply amplify my work. He modeled a way of being here. And moments like that are often what keep writers going.

When I began asking others about their own journeys, I realized that some version of this story shows up again and again. So I invited a handful of writers to reflect on their own turning points. What follows is a simple Q&A built around four questions, offering shared experience and shared wisdom. After that, I will turn to the practical side of it all and outline how to find your people and actually plug in.

Let’s begin.

What moment, person, or unexpected space helped you realize writing grows best in community?

Rachel G. Vick: This question couldn’t be more perfect for my own writing journey! It’s only been just over a year since I felt God directing me to begin sharing my writing more publicly. I didn’t even know what Substack was at that point! Around the same time, He began bringing other writers into my life—just by happenstance. One, through a chance encounter at a coffeeshop; another from a transaction at the pharmacy—and so on. We even took a roadtrip to a writers’ conference together just a couple months into our friendship (maybe a tad crazy—but I survived.) Now, we get together to write at coffeeshops, giving each other feedback and just being a quiet presence while we exercise our creative skills and write with Jesus. To be honest, I don’t think I would have made it this far in my writing journey without my writing community—both in person and here on Substack. I remember sitting at a table in Chic-Fil-A with Liz Collard Arnold—my boys playing on the playground—creating our Substack profiles together, helping one another through the process—that’s community at its best.

The Girl Journeying: I used to think writing was something you did alone. Just you, your thoughts, and maybe a quiet corner where no one could interrupt the wrestling in your heart. But the moment I began sharing my stories publicly, especially the vulnerable ones, everything changed. I remember posting a deeply personal reflection in one of my letters. I didn’t expect much. It was just me being honest. But then the messages came. “Wow… I thought I was the only one.” “This feels like you wrote my journal.” “Thank you for saying what I couldn’t.” That was the moment I realized writing doesn’t just grow in silence. It grows in echo. In the shared “me too.” In the DMs. In the community that forms around honesty. Connection didn’t just change my creative journey. It refined it. It made me braver. More intentional. More honest. And that shift changed everything for me.

She’s So Scripture: I’ve been blogging since 2018, and for a long time my writing life felt very siloed. I was putting words out into the world, hitting publish, and then… waiting. Occasionally an email would come in, or a comment would pop up, and those moments were encouraging, but they felt brief and scattered. Writing was meaningful and I had the views, but it often felt like I was doing it alone. That changed when I discovered Substack. What surprised me wasn’t just the platform, but the way conversation naturally formed around the writing. Readers replied directly. Other writers engaged thoughtfully. Ideas were exchanged in real time. Writing stopped feeling like a one-way broadcast and started feeling like a shared table. Something about blogging always felt “competitive” but now having such a great community of writers and readers, it feels collaborative.

Mandy Morris: I did not come into this space looking for community. I came to write, assuming the task was private and that whatever value the work held would be carried by the words themselves. That changed through repeated ordinary interactions. Someone took time to respond with their heart. A conversation continued over several exchanges. I found myself recognizing names, then voices, then habits of thought, and over time those exchanges became genuine friendships formed through the work itself. The writing was no longer leaving my desk and disappearing, it was being met by others. That experience altered how I approached writing. I became more attentive, more exact, because I knew it would be read by other people I had come to know rather than an indistinct audience. The presence of others did not distract from my work, it required me to take it more seriously and to treat it as an ongoing exchange rather than a finished statement.

Grant Herbel: I’ve been writing online in some form for about ten years. Throughout that time, it’s been largely one-sided blogging. I write something, hit publish, and try to get clicks. But after coming to Substack, I’ve found just how powerful it is to feel part of a community. I resonate deeply with what Mandy said--interacting with people I see nearly every day is much more rewarding than publishing into the void. It has taken my own perspective on writing from “optimizing” to engaging with real people with real struggles and blessings and unique experiences. In that way, it’s almost a collaborative process.

Hey Creative Sister: It was ten years ago this month that I decided to dip my toes into sharing my heart with the world and started blogging. I have always been someone who shares freely, and I wanted to tell others what Jesus had done for me. A testimony has a way of building faith. When you hear what God has done for someone else, it reminds you that He can do it for you as well. Seven years into that journey, my writing took on a deeper meaning. I was diagnosed with late stage cancer, and it felt like everything around me collapsed. In that season of pain and uncertainty, writing became more than a creative outlet. It became a place of refuge. Putting my heart into words helped steady my soul. What began as sharing my testimony with others became a lifeline for my own heart. What surprised me most was how community met me there. As I shared, others reached back with their own stories, prayers, and encouragement. Writing no longer felt like speaking into the void. It felt like sitting across the table from sisters in Christ who understood. I realized then that writing grows best in community. It is not just about sharing truth. It is about carrying one another through it.

Griffin Gooch: To help ease some anxiety before putting up some posts that could be considered controversial (they weren’t actually controversial, but, you know: Christians online can take a lot to be controversial), I started asking some friends I met on Substack to peer-review my posts. Not only did having a second set of eyes on my posts make them better, but it also led to genuine friendships. People can’t exist in a vacuum, and neither should our creativity.

Chris McKinney: Honestly, Substack was the unexpected space that changed everything for me. I was deeply skeptical in the beginning that anything I wrote would be valuable. So skeptical, in fact, that I didn’t tell anyone I was writing. I just quietly published and assumed no one would notice. But people did. They responded, shared my work, and told me how specific words met them in real moments. What I thought would be solitary became communal. I found people walking the same road, encouraging one another along the way. That connection changed how I saw writing. It wasn’t just expression anymore. It became a shared experience.

What are the most common questions you hear from writers or readers entering this space? What do people seem to struggle with, misunderstand, or long for most?

The Girl Journeying: One of the most common questions I hear from writers entering this space is simple but heavy: “How do I get people to see my writing?” Underneath that question is something deeper. They’re not just asking about algorithms. They’re asking about visibility. About validation. About whether their voice matters at all. A lot of writers struggle with the fear of obscurity. They think: “If no one reads this, does it even count?” “If it doesn’t go viral, is it good?” “Am I behind?” Being seen is beautiful. But being felt is deeper. Sometimes your writing isn’t meant to be loud. It’s meant to be intimate. To reach the one person who needed that exact sentence at 11:47 PM.

Mandy Morris: The concern I hear most often is not about technique but about how to take part. Many writers are unsure how to enter without seeming intrusive, how to share without appearing self-promotional, or how to participate without matching the pace they see around them. I think this creates a pressure that has little to do with writing and much to do with uncertainty about belonging. What they are usually looking for is a way to engage at a manageable pace. I often suggest spending time reading first, focusing on a few writers rather than trying to follow everything, and responding only when they have something they actually want to say. When taking this approach the pressure begins to ease. Participation becomes less about keeping up and more about showing up consistently with attention, which leads to exchanges that feel more natural and lasting.

Grant Herbel: I think with any new-ish platform, there is a flood of advice on how to fully exploit that platform. To be sure, there is a lot to learn and myriad ways to tweak settings and structure content in ways that can help reach more people. But as Christians I think we’d rather not exploit, but cultivate. So then the question often boils down to: how do I grow without wanting to grow? And as someone who has experienced that very question, the answer is simply to flip the equation around. Let visibility, structure, content, the platform itself, be tools to elevate Christ. Thinking of it like that, growth is a good thing. It’s just not our source of validation. And in that there is immense freedom.

Hey Creative Sister: One of the most common struggles I see is that many women genuinely want to study the Bible, but they simply do not know how. They are told to read Scripture, to spend time in the Word, to go deeper. Yet no one really shows them what that looks like in a practical way. I love digging into God’s Word. I love making lists, noticing patterns, asking questions of the text, and tracing themes. But I have realized that what feels natural and life giving to me feels overwhelming to many others. It reminds me of when I was a little girl and my mom would tell me to clean my room. I would move things around and try my best, but I felt defeated because I did not really know how to approach the task. The instruction was clear, but the process was not. Bible reading can feel the same way. We are told to read it, but rarely shown how to study it with confidence and clarity. What I see most is a longing for guidance. Women want depth. They want to understand what they are reading. They want to feel confident opening their Bible on their own. What they often misunderstand is that Bible study is not reserved for the academically trained or the spiritually elite. It is for every believer. That is why I love creating simple, creative resources that break it down step by step. I want my readers to move from overwhelmed to equipped, from confused to confident, and from passive reading to active, joyful study.

Griffin Gooch: I usually hear that people are struggling to “take off” on this platform. Essentially, that they’re not making as much traction as they’d hoped for. It’s one of the toughest things to talk about, because it can feel kind of sad and alienating to see other people’s posts resonate with hundreds of other people, while you’re languishing with just sending out your posts to your wife and mom (which was me for my first three posts). But the best advice I’ve had for these people is to just try to build community more than platform. It seems kind of silly, but it’s true. If you’re more interested in gaining followers than friends and creative partners, then your time on this platform will be a bit miserable. But if you focus on community, you’ll enjoy the platform and build an audience at the same time.

Chris McKinney: Many writers misunderstand that silence means failure. But often, it just means people are watching quietly. Reading. Being shaped. Not everyone responds right away. The introduction of Substack Notes helped change that for many of us. It created new pathways for connection. Suddenly, readers who would have never found your work began encountering it naturally. Conversations started forming around ideas, not just finished posts. What most writers long for isn’t just growth. It’s confirmation that their words matter. That they aren’t alone. That what they carry is reaching someone. Early silence isn’t the end of the story. It’s usually the beginning of finding your people.

Many writers wonder how to initiate collaboration or reach out without feeling awkward. If you’ve done this, what has helped you ask well? Share a practical tip, mindset, or example that made collaboration easier or more natural.

The Girl Journeying: I used to think collaboration had to start with confidence. Like you needed the perfect pitch. The perfect introduction. The perfect reason to reach out. But what I’ve learned is that collaboration begins with sincerity. Instead of saying, “Hey, let’s collaborate,” I’ve found it more natural to say, “I really appreciated how you explained this.” Or “This perspective stayed with me. I’d love to explore something together if you’re open.” It moves the interaction from transaction to connection. You’re not interrupting someone’s work, you’re potentially expanding it. A practical tip? Be specific about: What you admire, What you envision and Why it makes sense. And keep it simple. No long essays. No over-explaining. No apologizing for existing. Just clear. Respectful. Honest.

Grant Herbel: What I’ve found is that the people I want to collaborate with, I’ve already interacted with several times. That may be in article comments, on the Notes feed, Chat, or whatever. In other words, they don’t feel like a cold email asking for something. So many times, when you engage with people, collaboration just feels like a natural next step. With that background, just ask, like you would a friend.

Hey Creative Sister: When it comes to collaboration, I think many mistake it as an opportunity as self promotion. I truly believe that the goal of Christian collaboration should not be based upon self aggrandizement but simple encouragement. When you approach someone, it should flow from a shared mission, not personal gain. The heart posture matters more than the strategy. Readers can see right through motives. We should never come across as shady, like a used car salesman or ambulance chaser looking only to gain. If your goal is exposure, the invitation can feel forced. If your goal is service, it feels natural. You are not asking, “How can this grow my platform?” You are asking, “How can we serve our readers well together?” That is key. When collaboration flows from shared purpose, there is freedom. No pressure. No striving. Just two people stewarding their gifts side by side for the Kingdom.

Rachel G. Vick: I haven’t done much collaboration yet. But I plan to, especially with Substackers who write on similar themes. I think when you find yourself mutually and consistently liking, restacking, engaging with the same writers over and over again—those are your people! Get together and make something beautiful in community. I think it’s rare that someone would say “no” to an invitation to collaborate. After all, the ask just says, “I see you, I like what you have to say and how you say it, and I think you’re so great that I want to be associated with you.” In fact, I brought up the idea of collaboration with one of my people just the other day! It’d been on my mind for a while, and the invite blossomed naturally out of a conversation about how aligned our messages are and how we’re grateful for each others’ presence, what each other adds to this space. And guess what—she said yes! So stay tuned to see what @Lynn Ferreira and I are cooking up!

Griffin Gooch: If you find someone who thinks like you, I’d just tell them. That’s how I made most of my friends here so far. It’s much less awkward than you might think. Start with a compliment. We’re all writers. We’re desperate for those. After a compliment, ask them if they’d ever want to work together.

Chris McKinney: In short, just ask. At some point, you realize you have very little to lose. I’ve reached out through simple DMs, sometimes asking for recommendations or collaboration. Most people responded with surprising generosity. Some didn’t, and that’s fine. Not everyone will connect with you, and not everyone will say yes. But the ones who do can change your trajectory. The biggest shift is realizing that everyone is just a person on the other side of the screen. When you approach people with sincerity, most are far more open than you expect.

Many writers hit a moment where the pace of Substack or community engagement needs to shift to stay healthy. Have you experienced a burnout moment or boundary-reset? What helped you recalibrate, and what practical advice would you offer someone navigating that tension?

The Girl Journeying: Yes. I’ve had to recalibrate. Not because I stopped loving writing but because I started confusing faithfulness with constant output. There was a season where I felt subtle pressure to always have something to say. To stay visible. To stay consistent. To stay relevant. But writing, especially the kind rooted in healing, faith, and honest reflection cannot be rushed without cost. I noticed the shift when my writing began to feel performative instead of prayerful. What recalibrated me most was returning to why I started. I didn’t begin writing to keep up with a platform. I began writing to hold space. To make meaning. To serve. Practical advice I’d offer someone navigating that tension? 1) Audit your “why” regularly. If your motivation has shifted from purpose to pressure, pause. 2) Build rhythms, not streaks. Sustainable creativity isn’t about never missing, it’s about never abandoning yourself. 3) Protect your interior life. The depth of your writing will only be as healthy as the soul producing it.

Mandy Morris: I did run into burnout early because I tried to answer everything. I would open up substack intending to check one or two things and find myself still there much later, trying to respond to every comment and read every post so that no one felt ignored. It was well meant, but it quickly became unworkable. My attention became scattered, and my own writing time was being pushed aside. Eventually, I had to make a practical change. I began setting aside short, defined periods during the day to read and respond, and when the time ended I left it alone. More recently I have had to accept that I will not be able to respond to everyone. This space has become a real community to me, and I have made many friends here, so there is still a sense of guilt when I miss something, but that boundary is necessary if I want to keep writing at all. I am still learning,

Grant Herbel: Yes, for sure. I tend to work in cycles: rapid output for a couple of weeks, followed by exhaustion. It took some years for me to even identify that. On Substack, I have occasionally felt that same unhealthy rhythm resurface. For me, it’s a matter of returning to the source. To stop trying to build more buckets and simply rest at the well. What’s nice about Substack is that I haven’t felt penalized by the system for not publishing for that week, or delaying a few days. That’s part of what is so nice about the community I’ve found--everyone is very supportive, because they’re like me. My practical advice, then, is to learn to recognize your motivations, which can shift day-to-day. Don’t overanalyze (that has its own risks), but acknowledge that, and bring it to God in prayer. Take some time to recalibrate in the secret place. It may feel like it when you’re burned out, but it is never wasted time.

Hey Creative Sister: I have had to regroup and reorient more than once. In my Multiple Myeloma recovery, I have had to pull back and truly learn my limits. Rest has become a constant theme in my life since my diagnosis. It is not optional. It is necessary as I heal. I am very active in my church, so I have to continually remind myself that God Himself ordained rest in Genesis 1 and that Psalm 23 shows us a Shepherd who makes us lie down. As believers, we forget that rest is okay. Rest is needed. Rest is trust. Rest should never make us feel guilty. What helped me recalibrate was accepting that obedience in this season looks different. My advice to others is simple. Honor your limits. Honor rest before burnout forces it. Trust that stepping back does not mean stepping out of your calling.

Rachel G. Vick: I’ve had phases with Substack where the pressure to read, engage, respond, interact, and produce has been overwhelming and too consuming. It’s a challenge to keep my heart in the right place—to be okay with slow growth even while you see others rising quickly, to choose authentic, real connection over shallow “sub for subs.” I have two thoughts to offer: first, prioritize quality over quantity. Choose genuine connections—“kindred spirits,” as I like to say—over far-reaching growth that has no substance—it’s the real connections that will engage meaningfully with your writing anyway. Two, it has helped me to set a rhythm. I’m a full-time mom, part-time employed—all while trying to light the fire under my writing. So, in this season, I need a rhythm that’s consistent but not overwhelming: one note a day, one message on my subscriber chat each week, one post a week, one morning to read other writers and share their work. Your rhythm might be different—and in other seasons, mine will be too—but it helps to have parameters for yourself to stay consistent but to not lose yourself in it.

Griffin Gooch: Most of the time, I hit a wall because I’m trying to do too much. Too many notes or posts or such. The best way to recharge is to simply remember that no one is waiting on your every online movement. Take a break. There’s no timeline on when you have to post stuff. If you’re burnt out, spend time with embodied community and just have fun. I try to make sure that when I post, I’m doing it more so out of a sense of enjoyment or curiosity than duty.

Chris McKinney: In the beginning, I started two Substacks. I was ambitious. I would write for one and then have no energy left for the other. Eventually, I made the decision to scale back and commit to one post per week to see if I could sustain that pace. That was a few years ago. Since then, I’ve added Notes a few times a week, but I’m still constantly asking, “What is healthy in this season?” The desire to grow is always there, but growth can’t come at the expense of sustainability. I’ve also wrestled with the tension between writing for the algorithm and writing what I feel led to write. What I’ve settled on is this. If I’m genuinely helping people, the algorithm will eventually notice. That doesn’t mean I ignore research. I pay close attention to what people are dealing with so I can speak into real struggles and point them to Christ. Being a pastor gives me a front-row seat to what people are walking through, and that shapes everything I write.

Finding Your Place

Recalibration moments are simply the nature of life, change, and growth. As you move forward in any pursuit, whether writing, ministry, influence, or parenting, your time begins to shift. Slowly, the very thing you loved at the beginning, sitting across from someone, listening well, praying without hurry, can begin to feel squeezed.

It is a strange irony. You build something because you love its heart. Then growth brings new demands. The goal is not to avoid growth. The goal is to build growth around the life you want to keep, growth that serves connection rather than replacing it.

And part of protecting that heart is removing unnecessary confusion.

I keep hearing the same questions: Please just explain to me how Substack works. How do I find my people? How do I find them? Who can see my work? How do I share my work? How do I invite others in?

If growth can pull us outward, clarity helps steady us. Hopefully by this point you see how organic relational growth really is, and how much it is built on giving and receiving encouragement. At its heart, that is what writing and friendship are about. Finding like minds. Starting new relationships.

A saying I have always loved is, if you do not have friends, borrow mine. That can be true here. So rather than answering these questions one by one, I am building something simple. A way to organize our community so you can quickly see where to plug in, who to follow, and where deeper conversation and collaboration are already happening.

Instead of leaving this abstract, I built something practical: a simple structure that makes it easier to find your people and reduce the guesswork.

Right now, some natural cohorts I see emerging are:

Faith + Formation – Theology, Jesus-first reflections, Biblical study, Everyday discipleship, Faith in motion

Church Leadership + Ministry – Pastors, Elders, Ministry leaders, Sermon writers, Church planters, Staff teams

Family + Home Life – Marriage, Parenting, Motherhood, Fatherhood, Family discipleship, Education

Care + Inner Life – Counseling, Grief, Healing, Health

Children’s Books / Kidlit – Picture books, Early readers, Middle grade, Faith-based children’s resources

Poetry – Devotional poetry, Literary poetry, Spoken word, Short-form reflection

Each category title links to its own cohort page. On that page, you’ll find shared challenges specific to that lane, simple collaboration ideas, a growing list of writers, and a copy-and-paste tag bank for easy connection.

This began as a way to simplify my own process, but it has grown into something that can serve all of us. Click the cohort that fits you and comment a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If your writing spans multiple categories, post in each relevant thread.

The goal is clarity — less scrolling, more alignment, and a quicker way to see who is writing what.

Across all of these stories, one thing is clear: you do not have to do this alone.

Writers keep going when they are seen, when they are encouraged, and when they find a few places where their words are received with care. That is what I want this community to be.

So here is my simple invitation. Find your cohort, drop your one-sentence description in the thread, and choose two or three people to begin engaging with consistently this month. Read their work. Leave a real comment. Restack what you genuinely love. Start a conversation that is not rushed. Small actions like that are how community forms, and community is what sustains the long road.

I’m thankful you’re writing here, and I’m cheering you on as you find your people and keep going.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about Substack and Community. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

And for those wanting to dive deeper into Substack and community, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Recommendations, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s
Bonus: Community Directories — Find Your People

I would love it if you filled out this anonymoussurvey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

I would love it if you filled out this anonymous survey to share your real questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

This cohort page is a functional directory for writers focused on faith, theology, discipleship, spiritual formation, and everyday life with God. Learn more about the vision for these here.

Use it to identify overlap, initiate collaboration, and reduce guesswork.

In the comments, add a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If you see a real challenge we should name, add it. If you have collaboration ideas, suggest them. The goal is not for this to stay static, but to grow with the people in it.

Everything here will be continually updated. Every couple months I will review the comment thread and move people up into the lists. If everyone introduces themselves in the comments, it makes that much easier for me. Feel free to tag others you know who would fit here as well.

This will likely be the largest cohort since many people in my circle write somewhere in this lane. There are also a lot of niche areas within it, so feel free to plug into any that apply to your work. Comment on all that fit.

Real Challenges Writers in This Lane Often Face

• Faith-based spaces are saturated with strong biblical content — the challenge is not quality, but differentiation.

• Building your own biblical voice while also supporting others writing on similar themes.

• Serious biblical study takes time to read and digest in a fast-scrolling environment.

• Structuring posts that are both deep and discoverable.

• Resisting the pressure to oversimplify theology just to fit digital habits.

• Writing with conviction while maintaining charity in public theological spaces.

• Avoiding comparison when others appear to grow faster in similar lanes.

Easy Collaboration Ideas

• Scripture study roundtables

• Theological deep dives from multiple perspectives

• Series on everyday discipleship

• Shared reflections on one passage

• Faith + culture conversations

Follow, Subscribe, and Tag

One helpful approach when you discover a new publication is to spend some time in their archives. Reading a few older posts will give you a better sense of their voice and what they write about before deciding whether you want to stay connected.

Follow and Subscribe as much as you can. Sub for sub gets a bad rap, and it is not sustainable as your publication grows. But when you are starting out without a community, following and subscribing to other writers is simply how you begin to enter the room. There is nothing wrong with unfollowing or unsubscribing later as you become more familiar with someone’s work. Alignment is the goal. Over time your focus fine-tunes, and many authors also discover their voice as they go, so there is a natural learning curve on both sides.

To avoid email overwhelm: adjust your inbox settings so Substack emails automatically go into a separate folder. That way you can subscribe freely and treat it more like a library you browse when you want, rather than a stream of messages demanding attention. (see how here).

Tagging can be a simple way to help people actually see a conversation. Used thoughtfully, tagging creates an easy on-ramp into conversation and collaboration. We often assume people in our circles will come across our Notes, but many things get missed because someone was offline or the platform never showed it to them. So while posts are emailed to subscribers, it’s much more unpredictable whose feeds your Notes land in. So, when appropriate, tag.

Writers in This Lane

Women

• Daniela

• Olivia Leeming

Men

• Josh Benadum

• Aaron Hann

• Tom Duffy

Tag Bank

Instead of trying to maintain giant tag lists directly on this page, I created a separate Faith + Formation tag bank here.

The reason I like tagbanks is that they help us work around the algorithm. When someone shares a Note or restacks a post, we often assume the people following us will see it. But in reality, many people in your community will miss it. They may not be online at that moment, or the platform may simply not surface it to them.

The first few times you see your name tagged it can feel a little jarring, but it is actually very helpful. It creates an easy on-ramp into a conversation, which many people need before they jump in. Of course, not everyone will have the time or desire to participate in every discussion, but if you are hoping for engagement, it is usually better to tag.

That said, tagging assumes connection. If you are tagging someone, make sure you are following them, subscribed to their publication, and engaging with their work. When that foundation is there, tagging becomes a natural extension of an existing relationship rather than a cold call into the void.

One of my favorite benefits of tagging is practical. Instead of worrying that I might miss something in the feed, a tag shows up in my notifications like a gentle alert. It allows me to come back to the conversation when I have time without feeling like I might have missed it entirely.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about Substack and Community. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families. And because reading shapes so much of how I think and write, here are my Favorite Spiritual Reading Books.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack and community, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Recommendations, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s
Bonus: Community Directories — Find Your People

Fill out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

— AJ

This cohort page is a functional directory for writers focused on church leadership, ministry, shepherding, discipleship, preaching, and the realities of leading people. Learn more about the vision for these directories here.

Use this page to identify overlap, initiate collaboration, and reduce guesswork.

In the comments, add a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If you see a real challenge we should name, add it. If you have collaboration ideas, suggest them. The goal is not for this to stay static, but to grow with the people in it.

I originally built these directories because I kept mentally trying to remember who was working on what so I could point newer people in the right direction. This gives me a simple place to direct people instead of trying to reconstruct those connections from memory every time.

And just to clarify, there’s no pressure attached to being included here. Some people are here because they actively write in this lane on Substack. Some because they pastor, teach, lead ministries, train leaders, or create resources connected to church life and discipleship. Some are large publications. Some are smaller or more locally focused. In many ways, this is simply my running attempt to remember thoughtful leaders, writers, teachers, and ministries I’ve come across through Substack.

This directory will be lightly updated every couple of months as new writers and projects emerge.

Real Challenges Writers in This Lane Often Face

• Already writing weekly sermons — public writing can feel like doubling the workload.

• Most creative energy goes to the local congregation first, leaving little margin outward.

• Confidentiality and pastoral care limit how vulnerably stories can be shared.

• Emotional labor from preaching, counseling, and leading reduces engagement capacity.

• Audience tension: Is this for my church, the wider internet, or both?

• Theological depth does not always translate easily to digital reading habits.

• Long-form teaching competes with short attention spans.

• Many women’s Bible study leaders are volunteers creating high-quality resources with very limited time.

Real Questions That Come Up

What even goes in Notes?

Easy Collaboration Ideas

• Pastor roundtables on current church tensions

• Sermon-building conversations (process, not just product)

• Shared reflections on shepherding in specific seasons

• Ministry Q&A threads

• Healthy church leadership case studies

• Faith + culture from a pastoral lens

Follow, Subscribe, and Tag

One helpful approach when you discover a new publication is to spend some time in their archives. Reading a few older posts will give you a better sense of their voice and what they write about before deciding whether you want to stay connected.

Follow and Subscribe as much as you can. Sub for sub gets a bad rap, and it is not sustainable as your publication grows. But when you are starting out without a community, following and subscribing to other writers is simply how you begin to enter the room. There is nothing wrong with unfollowing or unsubscribing later as you become more familiar with someone’s work. Alignment is the goal. Over time your focus fine-tunes, and many authors also discover their voice as they go, so there is a natural learning curve on both sides.

To avoid email overwhelm: adjust your inbox settings so Substack emails automatically go into a separate folder. That way you can subscribe freely and treat it more like a library you browse when you want, rather than a stream of messages demanding attention. (see how here).

Tagging can be a simple way to help people actually see a conversation. Used thoughtfully, tagging creates an easy on-ramp into conversation and collaboration. We often assume people in our circles will come across our Notes, but many things get missed because someone was offline or the platform never showed it to them. So while posts are emailed to subscribers, it’s much more unpredictable whose feeds your Notes land in. So, when appropriate, tag.

Writers in This Lane

• — Josh writes about discipleship, leadership, and building healthy Christian community.

  • Start with "My Whole Life for God," a thoughtful reflection on what it means to move beyond simply believing in Jesus to orienting your entire life around following Him.

  • I also appreciated Prerequisites for Life Together, where he explores the mindset shifts necessary for flourishing in authentic Christian community, and The Sword We Cannot Carry, a compelling piece on justice, mercy, and why a life of peace requires trusting God with vengeance.

  • Be sure to check out his new book, "A Life That Leads," which explores character-driven leadership and helping others from a deeply formed life.

• — Trip is a veteran pastor, missionary, and mentor who writes about discipleship, leadership, God’s grace, and understanding Scripture in everyday language.

  • I especially appreciated Unraveling the Mystery of the Gospel for Others, a thoughtful reflection on communicating the Gospel clearly and simply.

  • You may also enjoy Out of the Ashes ... Hope, a powerful account of tragedy, restoration, and God's faithfulness in the Philippines.

  • Be sure to check out his newest book, The Heart and Soul of God's Kingdom, a devotional study through the Sermon on the Mount.

• — Mark writes about disciple-making, spiritual multiplication, and following Jesus in everyday life.

  • I especially appreciated 7 Habits That Quietly Kill Disciple Making and Most Christians Already Know More Than They Obey.

• — Kevin writes about disciple-making, simple churches, and living on mission in everyday life.

  • Start with One 2500-Member Mega-Church or One Hundred 25-Member Simple-Churches?, where he explores multiplication and the church's apostolic roots.

  • And then read his, GREAT TEAM series on the different gifts and roles God uses to build the church.

  • Be sure to also check out his new book, Hand to the Plow, which offers practical tools for making disciples in everyday life.

• — Chris writes about resilient faith, leadership, and following Jesus through every season of life.

  • I especially appreciated When Prayer Starts Feeling Heavy and The Person You’re Becoming While Nobody Notices—encouraging reflections for anyone navigating discouragement.

• — Bitterman's writing is centered on helping people know, trust, and follow Jesus. Through daily devotions, biblical teaching, and pastoral encouragement, he continually points readers back to the hope found in Christ.

  • I especially appreciated You Don't Need to Bring God a Better Version of Yourself and Rest Is an Act of Faith, two simple but powerful reminders of grace and trust.

• — Kandt writes thoughtful reflections on spiritual formation and life with Jesus.

  • Start with Augustine and the Psalms, a beautiful meditation on prayer, desire, and the Christian life, then read The Real Reason We Aren't Changing, where Benjamin explores how lasting transformation begins in the heart.

• — Marcus blends biblical insight, personal storytelling, and hard-won wisdom.

  • Start with The Judas In Me, a compelling reflection on assumptions, disappointment, and learning to trust God's plan over our own.

  • He also co-hosts the Radically Christian podcast with Wes McAdams, where they tackle practical questions about faith, Scripture, and everyday discipleship.

• — Lee is a biblical expositor, therapist, professor, and deep thinker on spiritual formation who writes about healing, discipleship, emotional health, and living the abundant life Jesus promised.

  • Start with A Christian Path Toward Reparenting the Soul, a thoughtful exploration of receiving God's care in the places we've learned to strive, and How We Create Christians Who Don't Resemble Christ, a compelling reflection on the difference between external faithfulness and genuine transformation.

  • If these themes resonate with you, be sure to check out his book, The Invitation, which explores kingdom identity, purpose, healing, and what it means to live as a citizen of God's Kingdom.

• — Sterling writes deeply researched pieces on discipleship and the life of the local church.

  • Start with Individual, Replicative, and Communal Discipleship in the Local Church, an exploration of what it means to follow Jesus personally, make disciples, and live as part of a healthy Christian community.

• — Colin writes about apologetics, theology, and the foundations of the Christian faith.

  • Start with Evidence I Have for Believing in Jesus Christ, where he explores scientific, philosophical, and historical arguments for Christianity.

  • I also appreciated What Does It Mean to Worship God?, a thoughtful reflection on worship as far more than singing—an entire life oriented toward God.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about Substack and Community. And because reading shapes so much of how I think and write, here are my Favorite Spiritual Reading Books. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack and community, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Recommendations, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s
Bonus: Community Directories — Find Your People

Fill out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

This cohort page is a functional directory for writers who care about family and home life. Use it to identify overlap, initiate collaboration, and reduce guesswork.

Use this page to identify overlap, initiate collaboration, and reduce guesswork.

In the comments, add a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If you see a real challenge we should name, add it. If you have collaboration ideas, suggest them. The goal is not for this to stay static, but to grow with the people in it.

I originally built these directories because I kept mentally trying to remember who was working on what so I could point newer people in the right direction. This gives me a simple place to direct people instead of trying to reconstruct those connections from memory every time.

And just to clarify, there’s no pressure attached to being included here.

This directory will be lightly updated every couple of months as new writers and projects emerge.

Real Challenges Writers in This Lane Often Face

• Writing in small windows between real-life responsibilities.

• Protecting children’s privacy while telling honest stories.

• Avoiding oversharing family moments for engagement.

• Navigating comparison culture in parenting spaces.

• Balancing practical advice with grace-filled realism.

• Building consistency when home life is unpredictable.

Easy Collaboration Ideas

• Parenting roundtables by age or stage

• Family discipleship resource swaps

• Day-in-the-life features

• “What’s working in our home” series

• Seasonal parenting conversations (holidays, transitions, etc.)

Follow, Subscribe, and Tag

One helpful approach when you discover a new publication is to spend some time in their archives. Reading a few older posts will give you a better sense of their voice and what they write about before deciding whether you want to stay connected.

Follow and Subscribe as much as you can. Sub for sub gets a bad rap, and it is not sustainable as your publication grows. But when you are starting out without a community, following and subscribing to other writers is simply how you begin to enter the room. There is nothing wrong with unfollowing or unsubscribing later as you become more familiar with someone’s work. Alignment is the goal. Over time your focus fine-tunes, and many authors also discover their voice as they go, so there is a natural learning curve on both sides.

To avoid email overwhelm: adjust your inbox settings so Substack emails automatically go into a separate folder. That way you can subscribe freely and treat it more like a library you browse when you want, rather than a stream of messages demanding attention. (see how here).

Tagging can be a simple way to help people actually see a conversation. Used thoughtfully, tagging creates an easy on-ramp into conversation and collaboration. We often assume people in our circles will come across our Notes, but many things get missed because someone was offline or the platform never showed it to them. So while posts are emailed to subscribers, it’s much more unpredictable whose feeds your Notes land in. So, when appropriate, tag.

Writers in This Lane

Women

• — Love this note on family, children, travel, and realizing the people you most want beside you are your kids.

Men

• — Here’s a practical post from him on talking with kids about Jesus at home: 4 Childhood Tips for Sharing the Gospel

• — He’s currently writing a book on masculinity, marriage, and maturity. Until then, check out his post You Should (Try To) Get Married

• — Check out his book on How to Teach Kids Theology

• — He writes to spread hope, especially through poetry, honesty, and encouragement. Be sure to check out his children’s book All The Things I Say to God: Learning to Pray Anytime, Anywhere

• —Here’s a thoughtful post from him on everyday formation: What My Daughter’s Playlist Taught Me About Discipleship

• — Love this reflection on the inconvenient beauty of gathered church life, family chaos, crying babies, and gathering shoulder to shoulder anyway: Church is Inconvenient

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll soon begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas. The first three will be Griffin Gooch, Kimberly Phinney, and Tanner Olson. These aren’t emailed out, always in app. So, make sure you’re following along.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also host Virtual Substack meetups. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Recommendations
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s

Fill out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

This cohort page is a functional directory for writers that care about the Inner Life. Learn more about the vision for these here.

Use this page to identify overlap, initiate collaboration, and reduce guesswork.

I originally built these directories because I kept mentally trying to remember who was working on what so I could point newer people in the right direction. This gives me a simple place to direct people instead of trying to reconstruct those connections from memory every time.

In the comments, add a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If you see a real challenge we should name, add it. If you have collaboration ideas, suggest them. The goal is not for this to stay static, but to grow with the people in it.

And just to clarify, there’s no pressure attached to being included here.

This directory will be lightly updated every couple of months as new writers and projects emerge.

Real Challenges Writers in This Lane Often Face

• Writing about pain without retraumatizing yourself or others.

• Balancing vulnerability with emotional boundaries.

• Offering hope without drifting into toxic positivity.

• Avoiding the pressure to become someone’s counselor online.

• Knowing when to log off for your own nervous system.

• Holding heavy topics in a fast-moving platform.

Easy Collaboration Ideas

• Grief reflection series (shared prompts)

• Mental health + faith conversations

• Boundary-setting roundtables

• Healing journeys (theme-based contributions)

• Practical coping tools compilation posts

Follow, Subscribe, and Tag

One helpful approach when you discover a new publication is to spend some time in their archives. Reading a few older posts will give you a better sense of their voice and what they write about before deciding whether you want to stay connected.

Follow and Subscribe as much as you can. Sub for sub gets a bad rap, and it is not sustainable as your publication grows. But when you are starting out without a community, following and subscribing to other writers is simply how you begin to enter the room. There is nothing wrong with unfollowing or unsubscribing later as you become more familiar with someone’s work. Alignment is the goal. Over time your focus fine-tunes, and many authors also discover their voice as they go, so there is a natural learning curve on both sides.

To avoid email overwhelm: adjust your inbox settings so Substack emails automatically go into a separate folder. That way you can subscribe freely and treat it more like a library you browse when you want, rather than a stream of messages demanding attention. (see how here).

Tagging can be a simple way to help people actually see a conversation. Used thoughtfully, tagging creates an easy on-ramp into conversation and collaboration. We often assume people in our circles will come across our Notes, but many things get missed because someone was offline or the platform never showed it to them. So while posts are emailed to subscribers, it’s much more unpredictable whose feeds your Notes land in. So, when appropriate, tag.

Writers in This Lane

Women

• AJ Augur

• The Girl Journeying w/ Jesus

• Em Tyler

• Kimberly Phinney

• Lyn Ferreira

• Hey Creative Sister

• — She writes about chronic illness, pregnancy loss, healing, grief, and hope. Start with A Poem for the Chronically Ill.

Men

• — Sleep Doctor

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll soon begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas. The first three will be Griffin Gooch, Kimberly Phinney, and Tanner Olson. These aren’t emailed out, always in app. So, make sure you’re following along.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also host Virtual Substack meetups. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Recommendations
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s

Fill out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

This cohort page is a functional directory for writers working in children’s books and kidlit. Read the fuller heart behind these directories and how they emerged here.

The goal is simple: reduce guesswork, help people find aligned writers faster, and create easier pathways for encouragement, collaboration, and shared learning.

Use this page to:
• discover writers in this lane
• identify overlap in themes or projects
• find potential collaborators
• name common challenges openly
• build ongoing relationships over time

In the comments, leave a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If there’s a challenge you keep running into, name it. If you have collaboration ideas, suggest them. The goal is not for this to stay static, but to grow alongside the people in it.

I originally built these directories because I kept mentally trying to remember who was working on what so I could point newer people in the right direction. This gives me a simple place to direct people instead of trying to reconstruct those connections from memory every time.

And just to clarify, there’s no pressure attached to being included here. Some people are here because they actively write about kidlit on Substack, some because they’ve written books or created resources in this space, and some because they run larger publications with meaningful overlap in audience, themes, or interests. In many ways, this is simply my running attempt to remember thoughtful books, writers, and projects I’ve come across through Substack.

This directory will be lightly updated every couple of months as new writers and projects emerge.

Real Challenges Writers in This Lane Often Face

• Writing for children on a platform mostly used by adults.

• Explaining kidlit projects to an audience unfamiliar with the space.

• Balancing creative storytelling with developmental clarity.

• Funding, illustrating, and marketing outside traditional publishing.

• Protecting your own children’s privacy if they inspire content.

• Building long-term visibility for books that release slowly.

Easy Collaboration Ideas

• Picture book circles

• Read-aloud features

• Developmental stage discussions

• Faith-based kidlit roundtables

• Illustrator + writer feature collaborations

Writers in This Directory

• — Hammerton and the Belt of Delay

• — The Magic We Missed

• — Hadley Belongs Here

• — All the Things I Say to God

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about Substack and Community. And because reading shapes so much of how I think and write, here are my favorite Parenting Books I Keep Coming Back To. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack and community, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Recommendations, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s
Bonus: Community Directories — Find Your People

I would love it if you filled out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

This cohort page is a functional directory for writers who love the written word. Learn more about the vision for these here.

Use this page to identify overlap, initiate collaboration, and reduce guesswork.

I originally built these directories because I kept mentally trying to remember who was working on what so I could point newer people in the right direction. This gives me a simple place to direct people instead of trying to reconstruct those connections from memory every time.

In the comments, add a one-sentence description of what you’re currently working on. If you see a real challenge we should name, add it. If you have collaboration ideas, suggest them. The goal is not for this to stay static, but to grow with the people in it.

And just to clarify, there’s no pressure attached to being included here.

This directory will be lightly updated every couple of months as new writers and projects emerge.

Real Challenges Writers in This Lane Often Face

• Poetry often receives quick reactions but less sustained engagement.

• Readers may skim instead of sitting with the language.

• Balancing clarity with artistic depth.

• Explaining context without over-explaining the poem.

• Maintaining confidence when engagement numbers fluctuate widely.

Easy Collaboration Ideas

• Prompt-based poetry chains

• Themed poetry collections

• Poet feature interviews

• Spoken word video exchanges

• Poetry + art collaborations

Follow, Subscribe, and Tag

One helpful approach when you discover a new publication is to spend some time in their archives. Reading a few older posts will give you a better sense of their voice and what they write about before deciding whether you want to stay connected.

Follow and Subscribe as much as you can. Sub for sub gets a bad rap, and it is not sustainable as your publication grows. But when you are starting out without a community, following and subscribing to other writers is simply how you begin to enter the room. There is nothing wrong with unfollowing or unsubscribing later as you become more familiar with someone’s work. Alignment is the goal. Over time your focus fine-tunes, and many authors also discover their voice as they go, so there is a natural learning curve on both sides.

To avoid email overwhelm: adjust your inbox settings so Substack emails automatically go into a separate folder. That way you can subscribe freely and treat it more like a library you browse when you want, rather than a stream of messages demanding attention. (see how here).

Tagging can be a simple way to help people actually see a conversation. Used thoughtfully, tagging creates an easy on-ramp into conversation and collaboration. We often assume people in our circles will come across our Notes, but many things get missed because someone was offline or the platform never showed it to them. So while posts are emailed to subscribers, it’s much more unpredictable whose feeds your Notes land in. So, when appropriate, tag.

Writers in This Lane

Women

• — #1 person to check out. She founded The Way Back to Ourselves, a poetry-centered creative community, The Way Back Books hybrid publishing imprint, and Poetry University for poets looking to grow. Be sure to check out her poetry book, Exalted Ground.

• — Explore her new book, Prodigal Daughter

• — Erasure poetry

Men

If you enjoyed this directory, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll soon begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas. The first three will be Griffin Gooch, Kimberly Phinney, and Tanner Olson. These aren’t emailed out, always in app. So, make sure you’re following along.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also host Virtual Substack meetups. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

For those wanting to dive deeper into Substack, here’s the full series:

Part 1 — Notes
Part 2 — Restacks
Part 3 — Subscribers, Bios, Posting Rhythm, Paid Subscriptions
Part 4 — Collaborations, Subscriber Chat, Direct Messages
Part 5 — Attention, Boundaries, Inner Life
Part 6 — Encouragement, Collaboration, Community Directories
Part 7 — Metrics, Platforms
Part 8 — Creativity in the Age of AI
Part 9 — Marketing, Visual Media
Part 10 — Comparison, Mental Health, Sleep
Part 11 — Coaching, Editing, Peer Review
Bonus: Recommendations
Bonus: Practical Substack How To’s

Fill out this anonymous survey to share your questions, frustrations, and all the “wait… nobody told me that” parts of Substack.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

Many of us who “think too much” were actually wired to pray constantly—we just learned to loop inward instead of upward. Eyes up friends. The redirect changes everything.

I posted this note a couple months ago. When I wrote it, I thought I was just naming something small and personal. Instead, hundreds of people responded.

“I thought this was my flaw.”
“I’ve always felt self-centered.”
“I wake up in full thought mode.”
“I rule the kingdom of Overthinking.”
“My dad believed worrying was a form of prayer.”
“I didn’t know we had a community.”
“What does this look like in action?”
“The challenge is putting it into practice.”

One clinical counselor said he was going to use the language with his clients.

An agnostic reader asked how you pray constantly if you’re not even sure you believe.

Someone else wrote, “That was an ‘I’m not broken’ moment for me.”

The thread was clear: we are not alone in the loop. But community recognition does not stop the 4:30 a.m. wake-up. In recent days, my mind proved it.

Earlier this week, our family faced a crisis that reminded me how quickly the mind reaches for control when circumstances feel uncertain. When outcomes matter, the loop accelerates.

But the same reflex that activates in crisis does not politely turn itself off when the stakes shrink. The mind does not limit that instinct to emergencies.

Just last night, I replayed a conversation thirty times before I fell asleep. I walked back through what I said, what I meant to say, what they might have heard, and what I should have clarified. Then I replayed what they said, what they meant, what I hoped they would say instead. I wondered if I sounded defensive. Or dismissive. Or too intense. I zoomed in on a single phrase and stretched it wider than it deserved. I fast-forwarded to how this moment might ripple into future conversations. I built possible outcomes, prepared counterpoints, rehearsed explanations — all while lying perfectly still in the dark.

It is a small miracle that at this stage in my life I have learned healthier coping mechanisms and that my nervous system can eventually settle enough to sleep. But that did not stop the 4:30 a.m. wake-up — heart pounding, mind already mid-sentence, picking the conversation back up as if it hadn’t ended.

I wish I could say it was only an hour of my life. But if I am honest, there have been seasons where hours upon hours feel consumed by the loop. My mind working overtime. Sometimes even my body joining in — tight chest, shallow breath — as though we are preparing for a threat that no longer exists.

Need to call it what it is. I’m a ruminator.

Rumination

Rumination is the act of repeatedly thinking about the same thoughts—usually distressing, negative, or unresolved ones—without moving toward resolution or action.

Rumination (noun):

1. In psychology: Persistent, repetitive focus on negative feelings, problems, or past events.

2. More generally: Turning something over in the mind again and again.

3. Literally (from biology): The process by which certain animals (like cows) chew cud—regurgitating and chewing food again.

The psychological meaning comes from that literal image. Just like a cow chews the same food repeatedly, rumination is “mentally chewing” the same thought over and over.

Rumination often masquerades as responsibility. But at its core, it can be an attempt to control what only God can govern. The impulse toward control is instinctive, especially when we feel vulnerable. Yet the same hard-wiring that drives us to loop also carries a redemptive possibility. The very wiring that fuels rumination can also be redirected.

The Flipside of rumination

1. Reflection

Not all repeated thought is sinful or unhealthy. Scripture commends a kind of intentional self-examination. The difference between rumination and reflection is not the presence of thought, but its direction and aim.

Rumination circles endlessly around the self. Reflection moves toward repentance, clarity, and return.

Biblical reflection asks different questions. Not merely, How did I sound? or How was I perceived? but, Where was my heart? What is true before God? What would faithfulness look like here?

The prophet writes, “Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord” (Lamentations 3:40). Notice the movement in the verse. Examination is not an end in itself. It has a destination: return.

Christian reflection is not introspection for its own sake. It is a means of grace. We examine our ways not to spiral inward, but to reorient upward. We test our hearts not to condemn ourselves, but to come back into alignment with the Lord.

Rumination circles the self. Reflection clarifies the heart and leads us home.

2. Meditation

If rumination is repetitive thought turned inward in fear, meditation is repetitive thought anchored in truth.

Scripture does not call us to empty our minds. It calls us to fill them rightly. Biblical meditation is not vague contemplation but sustained attention to God’s revealed Word. It is the deliberate turning over of truth until it presses into the heart and begins to shape desire, affection, and action.

Psalm 1 describes the blessed person as one “whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night” (Psalm 1:1–2). This is not casual reading. It is steady, repeated engagement. The image that follows is agricultural: a tree planted by streams of water. Meditation roots the believer in something stable outside the self.

Likewise, Joshua is instructed, “Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night” (Joshua 1:8). The result is not merely information but formation. Rumination rehearses imagined outcomes and feared scenarios. Meditation rehearses what is true about God—his character, his promises, his sovereignty.

Both involve repetition. But one spirals in uncertainty. The other roots in revelation.

3. Processing

Rumination often traps emotion in a closed loop. The feeling rises, the mind circles it, and nothing moves. Biblical faith does not call us to suppress emotion, but neither does it leave us to churn in it.

Scripture gives us a category for faithful processing. The Psalms are full of it. David does not pretend. He names fear, betrayal, anger, grief. But he does not merely rehearse them internally. He directs them Godward. “Pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge” (Psalm 62:8).

Notice the movement again. The heart is not denied. It is poured out. The emotion is not minimized. It is entrusted. Christian processing is different from rumination because it has a recipient. We do not simply name what is real; we hand what is real to Someone who is sovereign. Lament becomes prayer. Anxiety becomes petition. Confusion becomes dependence.

Rumination traps emotion in isolation. Processing releases it into refuge. The difference is not emotional intensity. It is relational direction.

4. Gratitude / Rehearsing Good

Rumination magnifies what is fearful, unresolved, or uncertain. Gratitude, rightly understood, magnifies what is true.

When Paul exhorts believers in Philippians 4:8—“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure… think about such things”—he is not offering sentimental positivity. He is giving pastoral instruction to a church facing real opposition and internal strain. The command assumes pressure. It assumes anxiety. Just verses earlier, he writes, “Do not be anxious about anything” (Phil. 4:6).

Notice that Paul does not tell them to stop thinking. He tells them where to set their minds. The verb translated “think” carries the sense of careful, ongoing consideration. It is sustained reflection. In other words, repetition itself is not the problem. Misdirected repetition is.

Christian gratitude is not denial of difficulty. It is deliberate attention to the character of God and the realities secured in Christ. It is choosing to rehearse what is objectively true even when subjective feelings pull in another direction. And the promise that follows is striking: “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:7). The guarding language is military. Peace stands watch over the believer’s interior life.

5. Problem-Solving

Rumination replays the problem in isolation. Prayer brings the problem into the presence of Christ. At first glance, rumination can feel responsible. It feels like mature engagement—an attempt to anticipate, prepare, or prevent. But left alone, it becomes an exercise in self-reliance. The mind turns inward, searching for control it does not possess.

Prayer redirects that same mental energy toward dependence. Instead of asking, Why am I like this? Why is this happening? prayer asks, Lord, what is true here? What would faithfulness look like? What wisdom do I lack?

James writes to believers facing trials: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault” (James 1:5). The context is not abstract decision-making. It is suffering. James does not tell anxious believers to analyze harder. He tells them to ask. The shift is not from thinking to not thinking. It is from thinking alone to thinking with God.

Paul deepens this reality when he writes, “But we have the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). He is not suggesting mystical access to hidden information. He is describing participation in Christ through the indwelling Spirit. Through union with Christ, the believer’s thought life is no longer sealed off from divine influence. The Spirit reshapes not only what we believe, but how we discern, interpret, and respond.

This means we are not trapped inside our own looping perspective. We are not confined to the limits of our anxious imagination. Through the Spirit, we are invited into Christ’s way of seeing. Instead of rehearsing helplessness, we ask for wisdom. Instead of spiraling inward, we entrust ourselves upward.

We are not struggling because we think too much. We are struggling because we think alone. The thoughts do not need to disappear. They need companionship. We were not wired to silence our minds. We were hard-wired to loop upward.

Worry is not prayer. But worry can become prayer. The same mind that replays can return. The same imagination that forecasts catastrophe can rehearse truth. The same nervous system that flares can learn to settle.

We have the mind of Christ. Which means we are not trapped inside our own interior monologue. We are invited into His.

Eyes up. The redirect changes everything.

Further Reading

Scripture calls us to renew our minds, and that renewal unfolds in embodied lives. The following books have shaped how I understand repetition, formation, and how that work begins in the home.

A Praying Life — Paul E. Miller

A deeply practical and pastoral exploration of prayer, especially for distracted and anxious minds. Miller reframes wandering thoughts not as failure but as invitations to bring real life into conversation with God. There are many excellent works on prayer worth recommending, but this one speaks most directly to the redirection of repetitive thought.

The Life-Changing Art of Self-Brain Surgery — Dr. Lee Warren
A neurosurgeon’s pastoral exploration of how intentional thought patterns reshape the brain. Warren bridges cognitive science and Christian discipleship, arguing that what we repeatedly think quite literally rewires us. Helpful for understanding how rumination and renewal are not just spiritual metaphors but neurological realities.

The Other Half of Church — Jim Wilder, Michael Hendricks
This book explores joy, attachment, and relational formation in the Christian life. It makes a compelling case that spiritual maturity is not formed by information alone but through relational connection that reshapes the brain. Particularly helpful for understanding how prayer and community affect embodied patterns.

The Body Keeps the Score — Bessel van der Kolk
A foundational work on trauma and how stress embeds itself in the body. While not written from a Christian perspective, it offers important insight into why redirection is not always immediate and why nervous system healing can take time.

The Upside of Stress — Kelly McGonigal

McGonigal argues that our interpretation of stress changes how it affects us physiologically. Her research reinforces a central theme of this essay: direction matters. How we frame internal experience influences how we endure it.

The Whole-Brain Child — Daniel J. Siegel & Tina Payne Bryson

A practical guide for parents on how children’s brains develop and how emotional regulation is formed over time. The book offers helpful insight into how repeated responses shape neural pathways. For parents, it provides a framework for teaching children how to name emotions, integrate experience, and gradually move from reactive looping to thoughtful processing.

Continuing the Conversation

The original note did more than resonate. It surfaced real questions. One reader asked how you “pray constantly” if you are not even sure you believe. Another pointed to the complexity of nervous system healing, how trauma, stress patterns, and embodied responses are not undone by a single redirection of thought.

Those are not peripheral concerns. They matter. And they deserve more than a passing sentence at the end of an article. I would love to explore both more fully, what prayer means for the uncertain, and how spiritual reorientation intersects with deeply ingrained patterns of fear, stress, and self-protection.

For now, the claim here is modest but firm. Repetition itself is not the enemy. Isolation is. The mind was not meant to loop alone.

If this reflection feels clarifying, unsettling, incomplete, or insufficient, that may be a sign the conversation is not finished. Much of what I understand about rumination and prayer has been refined in dialogue. I welcome the continuation.

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, book lists, and a living conversation about growing more confident in sharing your work.

I love helping connect one reader to another, so if you’re trying to find your people on Substack, explore these growing Community Directories.

And because I’m endlessly curious, you’ll begin to find deep dives into authors, Substack writers, books, and ideas that shape the way I think and live.

Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure stories for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

I also occasionally host Virtual Substack meetups for thoughtful conversation, and encouragement. Sign up here if you’d like to hear about future gatherings as dates open up.

Glad you’re here,

—AJ

The words stop
before they reach my lips.

Choked up.
Can’t breathe.
Tears coming faster than thoughts.

Somewhere between hope and dread
my heart just sits,
waiting.

God, I don’t know what to ask for.
I don’t know what to say.

I have faith,
but am holding so much fear.

So I bring You this instead:
shaking hands,
wet cheeks,
a chest too tight to hold a sentence.

This is my prayer.

If tears speak,
hear them.

If silence screams,
hear my cry.

Hold him
when I cannot.

Breathe for me
when I forget how.

Sit with us
in the waiting,
in the not knowing,
in the space where words fail
and uncertainty remains.

Please, God.
Not heaven yet.

Heal him, here.

Please protect my family,
already fragile
under the weight of loss
after loss.

We are tired of funerals.
Tired of hospital rooms.
Tired of bracing for impact.

Stretch out Your hand.
Interrupt what feels inevitable.
Write a different ending.

Please, God.
Give us a miracle.

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In 2009, a drug enforcement task force followed me for four days and built a case against me.

On the way back from just scoring dope, once I crossed the county line, sirens blared and lights flashed. In moments I was surrounded.

“Hands up or I’ll shoot.”

As they searched the car, one of them asked,

“Is there anything in here that will poke me?”

And of course, the answer was yes.

I was processed and certain my life was over. I was dope sick—shaking, skin and bones. That first night, even though I had no reason to hope, I felt and heard something steady inside me:

Don’t worry. Things are going to get better.

The very next day, standing before the judge, I asked for the highest bond possible because I knew if I got out, I would die.

During the six months I was there, someone who believed in Jesus came to visit and explained the gospel to me—that through Jesus Christ I could have forgiveness and real life.

It changed everything.

The Story Before the Story

But years before that moment, long before I understood what God was doing, seeds had already been planted.

In the throes of my addiction, I was using drugs in college bathrooms.

One night I ended up at a party hosted by a house full of Christian guys. I didn’t register they were Christians at the time because I was involved with one of the guys living there. Let’s call him Robert. Of course, that is not his real name.

Later, after I came to faith, the very first Bible study I was invited to was his. Years earlier, when he and I were fooling around, one of the girls he was friends with had been trying to share Jesus with me. Because of the drugs, much of that time is a blank spot in my memory, but I remembered her.

Fast forward: he and she were now dating. On their end there was understandable discomfort, and after that first Bible study they gently asked if I could find a different Bible study. They directed me to one they had recently split off from that might be a better fit. It turned out to be exactly what I needed.

As I began to pursue God, I started learning that He actually has a standard for those who represent Him. I found myself wrestling internally. I wondered how this friend of mine could have been fooling around with me and yet seemed to be leading their Bible study (he actually wasn’t leading at the time, but I didn’t know that; later he would).

I didn’t know what to do with that tension, so I kept putting one foot in front of the other, letting God persuade me through His Word about sexuality and integrity.

That first year I didn’t bring any of it up. I was less focused on sexuality and more absorbed in learning everything I could about my new Dad and beginning a counseling journey that unpacked deep healing God had in store for me.

At the same time, I carried many assumptions about sex, relationships, and the Bible that God was slowly reshaping. Neither of my parents had been married. I had many relationships and had never once desired marriage. Before God, I didn’t even really have a plan. My life was spiraling, but somewhere in my heart I imagined finding someone, living together, and having children. Marriage simply wasn’t part of the framework.

Entering a Bible-believing community full of dating relationships and young marriages left me both confused and intrigued. Why weren’t the guys flirting with other women? How could the women feel secure when their husbands had female friendships? Why were there clear boundaries when I interacted with married men, rooted in respect for their wives?

The first wedding I ever attended was Robert’s. It was beautiful. Centered on God. Unlike anything I had ever seen. And yes, they really had waited for sex until marriage.

That tension and curiosity stayed quietly beneath the surface for me.

What I Didn’t See Coming

Over that year my relationship with my boyfriend grew, and he proposed.

While my fiancé and I were engaged, Robert and his wife invited us on a double date. During that conversation he shared something that deeply shaped how I understand prayer and how much bigger God is than we are.

He told me that back in 2008 he wasn’t even sure he wanted to pursue God. When we were fooling around and I eventually cut things off, he brought it into the light with the men in his life, and it became a turning point for him spiritually. He said afterward he carried grief over the role he had played in my life while I didn’t know God.

So when I later ran into him on campus and told him I had met Jesus, he was completely shocked.

What stood out most wasn’t just the story itself, but what he said next.

Watching how God continued to work in my life, and seeing people come to know Jesus through my story, showed him again and again how much bigger God is than we are. Bigger than our mistakes. Bigger than our limited understanding. Bigger than the parts of the story we assume are already written.

Then he shared something else that stunned me.

During high school, his group of Christian friends had been praying for me. He knew my story. The abuse. The drugs. All of it.

Realizing how long God had already been at work behind the scenes completely blew my mind. So often we cannot see the threads until much later. In that moment I realized we had both been living inside something far larger than either of us could see at the time.

God had been working in both directions at once. And sometimes that’s the part we miss. We try to assign meaning or blame or clarity to every detail, but what remains is simpler than that.

God moves anyway. He is always there.

Even through imperfect people. Even through messy beginnings. Even through stories that don’t make sense while we’re living inside them.

For your own reflection

This content is mature, so these questions aren’t designed for you to answer publicly with me. Maybe sit with them on your own or talk through them with a trusted friend. Regardless of your past experience, your starting point, your beliefs, or even your current circumstances, I think everyone benefits from taking time to wrestle honestly with the things that matter most.

One day I’ll share more about the long internal wrestle I had with God around sexuality and integrity. It wasn’t instant clarity. It was questions, resistance, curiosity, and slowly learning to trust that God’s design wasn’t meant to restrict life but to protect and shape it. Ultimately, each of us has to wrestle through what God says for ourselves, but I’ve come to believe His way leads toward a deeper kind of wholeness than I could have imagined before.

Take a moment to reflect:

• If following Jesus has started to reshape how you think about sex or relationships, what questions or struggles have come up for you along the way?

• If you’re dating, what boundaries are you considering right now, and what would it look like to take one step toward God’s design?

• If you’re married, what does sexual integrity look like for you right now, and what protects it?

And one sober encouragement. Even with Jesus (like my story with Robert), people sometimes step outside God’s design. Over the sixteen years I’ve pursued Jesus with my whole heart, I’ve watched friends and marriages crumble under the weight of choices that slowly pulled them away from integrity.

If you’re walking through something heavy right now, I wrote more about running toward freedom and not flirting with the chains that pull us back in my post Run Like Crazy. Maybe that piece will meet you where you are. Or if you want the fuller arc of how God brought me from chaos into new life, you can read From Chaos to Overflow.

I write about faith, formation, and the slow ways God reshapes real lives. Once trapped in addiction, I now live in Orlando with my husband and two children, helping others find community, hope, and deeper freedom in Christ.

I went looking for photos from that season, but there aren’t many. I wasn’t much for documenting life then. So here’s one from years later.

For Group Discussion

One of the things that struck me most while processing this story was realizing how long God had been working behind the scenes through prayer.

If you have prayer requests, I would be honored to pray for you. And if you have any answered-prayer stories you want to share, I love celebrating and thanking God for them. Feel free to share links to your own testimonies or posts you’ve written for encouragement.

Leave a comment

Hi friends,

A few months ago, my husband was away on a men’s retreat, so the kids and I had extra “just us” time. What began as one spooky prompt has quietly turned into a whole series. We are somehow already in Book Three of a story unfolding in real time.

I’ll admit, my brain is often tired. It would be easy to check out. But their eyes light up in these moments, and I don’t want to miss that. This kind of imagination is magical.

We simply start talking. The kids ask, “What happens next?” and I genuinely have no idea. Blank space fills my mind. Then a sentence forms. And that one line gives birth to characters, a world, and tension.

In Book Three, Cora becomes a super-villain inside a golden snake fortress, complete with alligators who swallow enemies into her dungeon. In Book Four, Alex decides he wants to be the villain too, until he realizes it would mean turning against his family. Cue a full-blown identity crisis.

It is hard to keep up, so later I jot down a loose summary so we do not lose the thread.

That was just Saturday night.

Sunday morning, as soon as Dad walked in the door, my daughter launched into the latest chapter. As she told it, she added new layers and refined details. The story is alive in her.

That is the magic for me. The re-tell turns them into authors.

In the re-tell, they start making sense of their imagination. They clarify. They connect dots. They discover what actually matters in the story. It is not tidy or linear, but it is real learning and laughter in motion.

I keep thinking about how much of life works this way. We often understand something more clearly the second time we tell it. Meaning forms not just in creation, but in reflection. In the speaking, the shaping, the sharing.

If you’re wondering how your family could begin your own story time, I made a simple printable of prompts here. We record our stories in a family notebook to keep the thread. Having a shared story book in the living room makes it easy to grab, add to, and reread together. And when kids are younger, drawing the pictures becomes part of the storytelling.

And if you’d like help guiding your kids to actually publish their own little storybooks, tell me. I’m considering putting together a small “mini-publishing” kids class with a Canva toolkit. My daughter is already working on two of her own. Maybe sometime this year.

A Small Teaser

Last month I read five books, including advance copies of two that release later this year. I’m hoping to write up short reviews soon. Once I do, I’ll include them in my Publish It Yourself section. I am looking forward to sharing the others with you, but as a small teaser, here’s the first one.

A close friend of mine, , is releasing A Life That Leads in March, and I had the chance to read it early. What excites me most is how closely it aligns with what I’ve oriented my own life around: pursuing Christ-like character and noticing how that shapes the people and places around us. It’s a meaningful read on your own, and one I’d especially recommend reading with a friend. I already have a few in mind.

Pre-orders are open now for anyone who wants to grab it early. Find it here.

Staying Connected

Substack functions as my home base—a blend of website, reflective writing on family and faith, and a kind of community writing cohort.

I’m still a bit surprised that since starting this publication in May, more than 1,500 of you have stepped into this corner with me. Some of you know me in real life. Others found me through my children’s books or along the way here. However you arrived, thank you for being part of this community.

I care deeply not just about what I’m saying, but who I’m speaking to. That care is part of why I sometimes agonize over what I share. About two hundred of you are real-life friends or people I’ve had the joy of meeting through my books. I want this monthly email to bring a smile, keep you in the loop on anything of note, and stay light enough that it doesn’t crowd your inbox.

At the same time, more than 1,300 of you (and growing) are here for the whole ride—perhaps discovering me as much as I’m discovering myself and where this work is heading.

If you’d like to be more plugged in, you can adjust your email settings to receive the posts that best fit your current season of life. (here’s how)

Thanks for being here. I’m glad we get to share this space.

And yes, if you’re spotting Zibble in the photos, he’s always a part of story time too.

— AJ

If you enjoyed this reflection, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to my publication.

Subscribe now

I write about prayer, becoming more whole in Christ, everyday discipleship, and family life. Alongside essays, you’ll also find free kid’s Bible studies, and a living conversation about Substack and Community. Outside of Substack, I also create speech-sound story quests, whimsical allegories, and early-reader adventure workbooks for families.

At the heart of it all is a story of God bringing me from darkness to light, so I can’t help but write about hope, transformation, grace, and the reality that no person is too far gone for God to reach. More than anything, my passion is sharing Jesus with my whole heart.

You can generally expect to hear from me every other Tuesday at 7:07am, with occasional bonus posts and resources sprinkled in when time and life allow.

And for anyone who enjoys reading lists as much as I do, here are a few of mine:

• My Favorite Spiritual Reading Books

• Books Lists Acquired Through Literary Jealousy (coming soon)

• My Favorite Spiritual Reading Essays (coming soon)

• Parenting Books I Keep Coming Back To

• My favorite children’s books list (coming soon)

Glad you’re here,

— AJ

If you would like every new post sent to your inbox, or if your interests change over time (I am always a fan of adjusting or unsubscribing where it makes sense), you can update your subscription settings anytime (here’s how).

A faithful husband and father, who can find?
He is more precious than riches multiplied.
The heart of his wife trusts in him,
and her children are secure.

He carries the weight of his household
without resentment or display.
He works with diligence and resolve,
and his strength is given for others.

He provides with more than income.
He gives stability, presence, and care.
His children are known and seen by him,
and his gentleness shapes their days.

He does not rule with fear,
nor lead with harshness.
His strength is steady,
and his voice brings calm.

When his children stumble,
he is patient.
When they are afraid,
he is near.

They learn courage
because they are safe with him.
He bears responsibility willingly,
and the weight does not harden him.

Though the load is heavy,
his heart remains for his family.
He carries more than he says,
and love is found in what he bears.

Wisdom rests on his tongue,
and kindness governs his strength.
His wife is strengthened by his faithfulness.
She is free to labor, to create, to serve,
because he stands firm beside her.

He delights in her and honors her calling.
His children rise and call him good.
They rest in the shelter of his consistency
and grow under the cover of his love.

He fears the Lord,
and that fear orders his life.
It teaches him when to press forward
and when to kneel.

Strength will fade, and work will end,
but the fruit of his life will remain.
A man who carries his family in faith
will not be forgotten.

Let his labor build a refuge.
Let his children grow unafraid.
Let his love, practiced over years,
be known in the gates.

In college, I took a course on marriage and divorce. One of the most important things you can do to protect a marriage is to focus on the good of the other spouse.

My husband and I have had our seasons. And still, I am often humbled by his character and by how fortunate we are to have him.

If you haven’t ever, I encourage you to write your own Proverbs 31 or 32.

<3 AJ