I then laughed at myself as I got ready for work, as “steward gently and kindly” aren’t exactly in the handful of German commands my dog understands. But then I got to pondering.

My dog isn’t a big chewer, thank goodness. But he does tend to find rugs tantalizing. For scratching and shredding, especially when he’s feeling like he doesn’t have enough attention. To destroy, if he feels like it.

It got me thinking how often we people behave in the same way. We look at our possessions, the world, even the people in it, as “for us”. To do whatever we want with them. We can break them down, or even destroy them, as long as it gives us momentary fulfillment or satisfaction.

After all, God gave all these things to Adam and Eve to “Rule over”, right?

“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.” Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food.” Genesis 1:27-29

However, if we continue on, we get to this:

“The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.” Genesis 2:15

We must be so careful with the biases we bring to our reading of scripture. As if scripture being translated into a language it wasn’t originally written in doesn’t already bring enough of a challenge to our brains, which are formed in huge part by our own native language, we also have completely different cultural biases.

“Rule Over”, depending on our culture’s picture of “Rulers” can suddenly look like a dominating, subjugating, using, unchecked, self satisfying, king upon a throne. “Rule Over” can look like an ego fluff. And it can become our self-signed license to selfishness and sin.

There is a little unsanctified part of ourselves that looks like this guy:

Who keeps conveniently forgetting that he’s an assistant TO the regional manager, not “Assistant Regional Manager”.

We are never to rule as selfish little kings, throwing our weight around, taking what we please, and demanding respect. We shouldn’t be grasping for power and authority like Dwight Schrute. We are to take our example of ruling from Jesus, who “…did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Matthew 20:28

I purchased the rug for Canyon, as a gift, because I love him. To bring him comfort and ease his slipping and aching bones as he moves into old age. However it is still my rug. Designed to be a rug, with my expectation that it will be shown the same level of care and respect as the rest of the house.

Canyon doesn’t get to decide to use the rug, abuse the rug, or keep the rug from serving it’s purpose, even if it’s “his”. He might still choose to do such a thing, which will result in my displeasure, and the removal of the rug, and any future rug. Also, potentially a stomach blockage of carpet fibers, and a whole chain of awful events that he cannot foresee in his short sighted impulse to use the rug for himself, improperly.

How much more would be the fall out and consequences from a perfect God when we misuse His people, earth, and animals? Or even our time, life, and gifts? “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it on the seas and established it on the waters.” Psalm 24:1

Our children, our spouses, our families, our friendships, the earth, the ocean, our animals, wild animals, houses, cars, phones- all of these things are God’s. And while he has given them to us, they are not really ours, just as we are not really theirs. They might belong with us, but they do not belong to us. We are all God’s.

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” 1 Peter: 4

These are Jesus’s things, loved ones, creations. He has given them to us as beautiful gifts to nurture and tend to. He has entrusted them to us for a time, so that we give them back to Him better and more loved, reflecting His image brighter than they did before.

So in short summary, may we steward gently and kindly. With rugs and all.

This past Lenten season has come to a close. Without much fanfare from me, honestly. The past few years, I’ve studied a bit on Lenten traditions, gleaning what I thought might be helpful and theologically appropriate practices from the varied ideas of different traditions in Church History. My local church, while having Good Friday and Easter services, has never done much in regards for Lent.

We have however, always done advent which has helped Christmas feel much more spiritually enriching for me. So I was curious to see if observing Lent in some way would have a similar affect for Easter.

After trying it for a few years, it has been a good time of refocus for me. A meaningful devotional, more prayer time, a Bible study, an Ash Wednesday service to kick it all off, etc. It did indeed, result in mentally and spiritually dwelling on the life and journey of Christ more then I normally would at this time of year, meditating on the gravity and wonder of sacrifice and salvation. I remember sitting in an Ash Wednesday service last year and realizing that I was officially a year older than Jesus made it to, according to the quoted scholars. At least in earthly, pre-resurrected years. (A sobering reminder that I’m no longer 25.)

However this year I just didn’t have time for it. Or make time for it, would probably be a better way of saying it. My life has felt a bit chaotic and overwhelming the past few months, and even worse, I have been suspicious that it feels that way for no good reason. Which results in self blame and frustration. Why can’t I just get it together?!

”I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread”- a golden line from Bilbo Baggins in the Lord of the Rings that I’ve probably quoted before, is what sounds through my brain whenever the list of to-dos, goals, wants, events, problems, commitments, relationships, you name it, all come to a head.

Lent was a beautiful idea, that would have to pass me by this year. I was already committed to a couple of Bible and Book studies that I was struggling to keep up with. I did not have the bandwidth to focus on all the preparation and schedule managing required for fasting. And I did not have a lot of flexible income for almsgiving. Pair this with everything else going on, I just didn’t have time for Lent.

Perhaps it’s all just excuses, who knows. But this is how I felt. I was running on doing the next necessary thing, while everything else piled up around me. And why was the next thing always washing poop juice off of my dog?

Canyon, my German Shepherd, has always had a myriad of allergy and skin issues. These issues have always gotten worse during the cold seasons, which might be attributed to having a dust allergy, but also not fully explained by it. Lately his issues have resulted in all of his glands, including the offending anal glands, over producing oil. This can make them inflamed, infected, etc., especially if they are not properly being expressed.

Gross I know.

He also has a plush double coat, a long torso, and recently, an inner thigh chewed raw from a raging infection. This left him in a cone 24/7 for a long while, and made it impossible for him to even attempt to express and clean his butt himself.

About every three days, the smell of anal oil (which has been affectionately coined, his “Fish Butt”) and stuck on Feces, mingling with puss filled infected skin, got to a gag inducing level, even for me. His “Mother” / “owner” / “roommate” / “bidet”.

My money, my time, and my lower back stability were being sacrificed multiple times a week, for months, on this creature God has given me to care for. I was washing my dog, drying him, bleaching the bathtub, washing the towels, brushing the loose hair, and then inevitably vacuuming the whole house after he post-bath “Poofs” all his hair out, just in time for the cycle to start again. Setting up medicine timers, and deception filled battle plans to get him to take his, at the time, seven daily pills. Chasing him down to put his cone on every time I left him out of my eyesight. Airing the house out from smells and from dust. Changing air filters, rinse and repeat.

Lots of vet trips, medication changes and antibiotics later, we’re still dealing with this even now, though some things, like the infection, seem to have cleared up. Thank the Lord! And the baths have shifted from every three days, to every six or so.

It didn’t click until recently, after Easter was celebrated in a quiet and odd fashion, (My grandpa Jim is close to passing, and that reality along with the many changes that come before that, have been looming over the extended family for these past months as well.) that perhaps my season of Lent was rather more in line with traditional Lenten practices then I realized. A sort of, twice weekly Maundy Thursday. But instead of peoples feet, I was washing under a tail.

And perhaps I didn’t need to feel so much frustration and guilt about my lack of goal progress, hospitality, and abundance of overwhelm. Maybe I didn’t need to “get it together”, but rather “keep marching on”.

You might be washing your elderly parents. Or a baby’s diaper blowout. Or a vomit bowl for the tenth time. But here is your reminder that if your Lenten season wasn’t a picture perfect spiritual practice, full of scripture, candles, and quiet time, it doesn’t mean it was wasted, or even unobserved. In fact, it might have been closer to what Church Elders of the past wanted for you. It might have been the best one yet for your maturity, and the sanctification of your soul.

So here’s to the start of Ordinary Time, and hopefully a more ordinary amount of dog baths.

God Bless,

Lydia (and Canyon)

A good argument to unplug, honestly. I have read for years about the negative effects of social media on one’s brain. How we’re all distracting ourselves into Adhd and Dementia symptoms, and how we don’t even know how to have community and society anymore because we’re spending our time absorbed in our little techno bricks of entertainment. GenZ Stare, Boomer Entitlement, GenX Apathy, Millenial Toxic Empathy, social commentary on social commentary, blah, blah, blah.

While I could spend quite some time listing the benefits of technology, and can’t deny the beauty of the constantly updating GPS, camera and phone combo in my pocket, I still yearn for life back when I was a teenager and had access to the shiny, exciting and new internet- but it was still stuck in the box in my house. Where I could message any of my friends from all over the world to chat with them- but could still say “Gotta go eat supper, bye.”

There are ways to try and add stumbling blocks to the constantly brain numbing/dopamine hit combo of scrolling mindlessly, and filling your brain with podcasts, youtube videos, and spotify- but man, 15 years into this life of constant internet is a pretty exhausting addiction to crack. Especially considering the push to be always available mixed with having your job be online- how are you supposed to get your first sobriety chip?

It’s hard not to feel akin to Paul the Apostle in his writing to the Romans 7:15-20

”For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.”

Feels a little Yoda-esque, speaking of Star Wars.

Now this is not to say that I find the internet, social media, or even entertainment as evil, certainly there is good and bad in all of it. But if it is controlling you, dragging you away from Christ, spending time with Him, even doing the things that he has made you to do- well, we know what the Bible says about something that’s causing you to sin. Cut it off!

Anyway I didn’t sit down here to go on and on about my social media addiction. Even though I have suspected for quite some time that is has been robbing me of my ability to be creative. Writing requires a good deal of focus, tenacity, sitting down in front of a screen, and perhaps even more importantly- silence ahead of time to ponder, think and imagine.

But here I am. Ten minutes now before the work clock starts. I would normally never have this time in the morning (another thing I’ve been trying to change for more than a decade of my life). But I was awakened quite suddenly this morning by my phone ringing as my plumber was ready to show up an hour and a half earlier than his slotted time. Nothing wakes you up quite as fast as the threat of a stranger being at your door in ten.

But I sit here, windows open, enjoying an unseasonable cool morning of 65 degrees on the first day of August, coffee in hand, my thrifted, 50 cents, Ella Fitzgerald CD playing in the background, feeling a shift in the air. Sure, it could be the nostalgic scent and sounds of late summer blowing in- but it feels like more than that.

2025 has heralded tons of changes, both Macro and Micro, in the world, and just in my own little personal life. A lot of it hasn’t been fun, and some of it has been full on painful.

But I’m still here, the earth’s still turning (maybe a little faster than I’d like), and in the bustle of this weekend- I think I’ll take some time to paint, walk my dog, maybe see my parents. And maybe I’ll put my phone in the bottom dresser drawer and leave it there for a bit.

Book Resources for you:

Ten Arguments for Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Right Now

Bored and Brilliant

The TechWise Family

Amusing Ourselves To Death

Last Child In The Woods

I really enjoyed this video! by one of my favorite new-to-me youtubers.

August flowers have started!!

New Jams made for me by my Mom <3

My “Blueberry” Tomatoes are my best growers this year!

And not just A pastor, he’s been MY pastor for that long. Along the way our church picked up another pastor, pastor Bob, so my father is one of two of my pastors.

So if you take a look at the title, it’s obvious I’m writing this post to tell you all to LAY OFF my DAD or we can TAKE THIS OUTSIDE.

I’m kidding, of course. (Or am I?) But I do feel like being the child of a pastor, I have probably dwelled on the subject of “how to love your pastor” more than most. My pastor is far more human to me than I think most people see men in that position. I’ve seen him troubled into lack of sleep by the burdens of his congregation. I’ve also seen him grow numb to things that would have once kept him up at night. I’ve seen him try and balance the emotional and spiritual needs of his family and his church members. I’ve seen him pour over old books, the Bible, and his keyboard. I’ve seen him at visitations, giving weddings and leading funerals. I’ve had him annoy me by preaching on a topic we disagree on, still unswayed by my argument. I’ve seen him scornfully abandoned by people who once gushed over him.

Before I continue, I am sure my dad would prefer I use the term Elder, or “Teaching Elder” as opposed to Pastor. He has an excellent Substack devoted to instructing and encouraging young men in how to become an Elder, which you can read here: Aspire To Be An Elder

It’s very good reading, even if you aren’t currently aspiring to be an elder, or like me, aren’t even a young man.

However, “Pastor” is the more commonly used term for what I’m trying to get at in this paper. It could apply to Elder, Pastor, Minister, Reverend, Priest, or however your denomination typically refers to this office.

Which leads me to my first point.

How Should We Think About Church Leaders?

Before we even get into loving our pastors, I think we need to sort out in our soul if we can even like them. Even respect them. Because a lot of people have a hard time with that. Sometimes it’s because of past abusive experiences. Sometimes it’s because of media stereotypes. Usually, it’s because of our own pride and sinful natures.

We as a people, want to be Autonomous. If you are unfamiliar with that word, Oxford Languages defines it as “Having the freedom to govern itself or control its own affairs.” From the late 17th century Greek “Having it’s own laws”.

We balk at Authority. Our prideful stubbornness doesn’t want God to tell us what to do, much less another, imperfect, human. So before we begin to really talk about loving our pastors, please consider the questions below.

Question Number 1: Do you believe a normal person, a sinner as we all are, can or should try to teach you about God and His Law? Do you believe it’s possible to do so and not be coming from a ‘holier than thou’ place in their own hearts? Can they do so without you only seeing them as a hypocrite?

Some people cannot believe this. They tend to cling to one of two things.

One: Pastors must be arrogant and prideful, wanting followers for themselves, and a pulpit to spew their own ideas about God from. That these Pastors just want to control others, making the world in THEIR own image. These people see the pastoral authority as a power grab for greedy men.

Or Two: Perhaps these people do believe that one can genuinely be called to a pastoral position. But they cannot humble themselves to learn from a pastor, unless they can put them on a pedestal. They run around looking for lovely heroes of men, someone they find easy to adore. But if they ever find them, these congregants usually discover that no one can stay on that pedestal for very long, and/or they find every way to knock their pastors off of it themselves.

In both of these examples there is an underlying pride. An on-edge sort of prickliness that feels they’re “being looked down upon” or being “talked down to” by someone as imperfect as they are. After a few rounds of shiny new churches and pastors get muddied up in their minds, they usually end up becoming completely unchurched .

This leads me to-

Question Number 2: Do you believe you should respect and submit to an authority even if you do not agree with them about everything? Even if you think they are wrong about something, or took a Biblical concept too far?

Some people cannot handle this either. They cannot handle someone preaching a single belief that’s different from their own. Of course they don’t usually acknowledge that it’s THEIR belief. They will often say something like, “they can’t be in a church where the truth isn’t being preached”. And they usually end up perpetually church hopping, or starting their own church, outside of any denomination, where no one can correct them, and THEY get to be the ultimate authority of God’s word.

I’ve come across some men in my youthful years who held strongly to the idea of Biblical authority- but conveniently only when it came to family. They would talk often about how they were the head of their families, so their wives had to submit to them and their children obey them. Yet these men could never seem to stay under the authority of the church. And they completely despised the authority of the civil government. Apparently, in their minds, the only imperfectly executed authority that had to be obeyed was their own.

So how do we deal with this? If you find yourself represented in the first or second Questions, is there no hope for finding a pastor that you can respect? Should you begrudgingly settle for whatever first comes your way? What about church abuse, should we just let pastor’s do whatever they want? Can we ever leave a church?

I will get into depth with some of these questions in my future posts but for now I will leave you with this:

Remember Pastors are People.

They have their own sin issues, and gaps in their knowledge just like the rest of us.

Yes that’s right, we have sin issues and gaps in our knowledge. You and I are both full on wrong about something. Probably many things.

Pastors aren’t “Better” or “Holier”. Hopefully, they are wise, meet the requirements laid out in the Bible for an elder (As found in 1 Timothy 3, because yes, God wants us to have Pastor/Elders), are learned men, and have evidence of being obedient to Christ’s commands and have signs of the fruit of the spirit in their lives.

But that does not mean they are somehow at a different “Level” of Christianity than everyone else. They aren’t closer to Christ, more favored by God, or Purer, just because they are a pastor.

In fact, I can assure you, you will be able to find one, if not several things that they are “worse at” or less sanctified in, than you.

They might not even know as much of the Bible as you. Maybe they don’t pray as often. Maybe they aren’t as kind. Don’t do as much community service. Don’t watch their mouth like they should. The list could go on and on, especially if you enjoy letting it.

They are people. And that is not to say we shouldn’t respect them or their office, we should. They need to be committed to following and learning God’s Word, and discipling their congregation in His Way. But I think we can have a more healthy appreciation and respect for them if we see them as normal people who have taken on a very large responsibility and put an awful lot of mental, emotional, and physical labor into the souls that surround them.

James 3:1 says “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness.“

Their authority isn’t be to be revered and worshiped, and they aren’t either. Their authority is not to be thought of as a crown and a scepter. A heavy soldier’s pack would be a better visual. Or perhaps, a baby carrier strapped in front and behind, carrying six month old twins.

Our pastors are here to serve their congregation. All forms of authority need to follow in the example of our perfect authority, Jesus Christ. As it says in Mark 10:45 “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

And it’s a good reminder that we are called to put a lot of that labor in ourselves, when maybe we aren’t. Maybe we are spending more time sitting back and griping about what our pastor does or doesn’t do, than attempting to do any Christian service ourselves. If we have time and energy to complain- then we have time and energy to do some of the work ourselves.

As we close this post and before we move onto the next part of this paper, I will leave you with the text I previously mentioned regarding the qualifications of Elder:

1st Timothy 3: 1-7

“The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. ² Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, ³ not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. ⁴ He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, ⁵ for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church? ⁶ He must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil. ⁷ Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil.”

But Lydia, you say, it’s already January 19th. There’s already been fires and ceasefires and TikTok bans and returns!

And you are correct about that. But I would argue that the year is still in fact, new. And that January is the very beginning of winter, so perhaps we can all just take a breath, hunker down a bit, and take a pause in all of our rushing. Outside, the world is sleeping, and perhaps we need to take a nap or two as well.

It’s something I’ve thought a lot about the last few years, rushing. I often find myself feeling as Bilbo Baggins said; “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”

And whether that’s just me, our modern world and the pace of which we live and consume information, my committing to too many things and people, or not committing to the right things and people, who can say. It’s a difficult puzzle that I’ve worked at quite a bit, and suspect I’ll never fully solve. Especially with the pieces ever changing. We are not as in charge of our days as we like to act.

However it is very difficult to try and slow down when everything is sending you the message that you aren’t ever doing enough. I think this is the case for many of us. I am also fairly sure no one is intentionally putting this pressure on me. That I put it on myself far more. I probably put it on others, though I try not to. We struggle to see people in their wholeness, outside of ourselves with their own lives full of their own feelings, relationships, responsibilities, privileges and struggles.

I, like so many before me, have not yet figured out how to add any more time to my days, and only grasp at the ability to add more energy.

However I do suspect I know how to find more rest. More peace. And it’s the same formula for me as it is for everyone else on this earth. Rest and Peace are only found by spending more of my time with Christ. And finding more of Him, in every moment of my time.

So if I have any goals for this year, I think that will be it.

I will leave you with a New Years Blessing that I pray for myself and all of you as well:

May this year start slowly

Hold you gently

Draw you nearer to Christ.

May it wipe your tears

And be like a comfortable chair

For your weary bones to sink into.

May the sun shine

In that hopeful way

That wakes you with the caress

Of a grateful dawn.

May time not gallop

Like an untamed horse

With your foot caught in the stirrup.

But rather stroll

Like a prayerful walk

Through a well loved garden.

May your tears reflect

The goodness of God

So much more than

The fallenness of man.

May you not continually chase after

More and better and everything

But focus in on doing well.

May your loved ones

Be healthy and happy

And rich in the abundance of God’s love.

And may you be also.

After a month break due to the awful pneumonia, which timed out okay, because we often take one in August/September anyway, Ashley and I have begun recording season four of our podcast. In fact I just uploaded episodes 133 and 134 to be released in October. Hard to believe we’ve yammered on about media for that many episodes, but here we are! The podcast was built on a whim and is still being recorded on an old laptop, with one yeti microphone, into a movie editing software because it’s what I know how to use. (I’ll wait while everyone who has done any sort of sound mixing to cringe.)

But, despite the poor audio quality, and slapped together leap into the podcasting world, I have hugely enjoyed working on it with Ash all of these years. While being a great time chatting with my roommate, and giving me a little scrapbook of sorts of what we’ve enjoyed (or not enjoyed), it also takes tv, movies, and books (things I love and spend a fairly sizable portion of my time on), and lets me do something creative with them.

You can check out all of our episodes here!

I also recorded a video for youtube recently, something I haven’t done since 2020. It’s an easy, long format, chatty, “Autumn” book recommendations video. One take. Nothing flashy or hard to execute. Can you see a pattern here? I have been learning for years not to get in my own way. I can be perfectionistic in what I want to “Put Out” creatively. But I simply do not have the time at my disposal to do all the things I want to do, and make all the things I want to make, while worrying about multiple cuts, camera angles, and if I stumbled over a word here or there.

You can be a perfectly executed expert at one or two things, or you can be the person who kinda knows how to do a lot of things. My brain craves to be the latter, no matter how many years I have tried to “Zero In” on one thing or another. Plus for me, a variety of “Kinds” of creativity just begets more creativity. It’s inspiring to me. Sometimes I can’t write until I make a fleece blanket. Or edited a ridiculous collage of pet photos together.

You can watch that here if you’d like!

Moral of the random youtube video, and podcasting with a movie editing software for me is: Keep creative. Do creative things just because it brings you joy, without always trying to monetize it, or make it perfect, or even have it be consumed by others. For me this is crucial to being able to make the things that might fit into those categories.

The algorithms might not like my inconsistency, or the fact that I don’t only pick trending topics, Oh well. I can make things, or I can play the game of trying to make my things super “successful”. Right now, I’m going to choose to make things. We can’t actually control the second option anyway.

The last big thing I’ve been working on lately, is that I have outlined and written a good portion of a three part series on How To Love The Church. I’ve really been enjoying working on it so far. It’s three parts are:

How To Love Your Pastor,

How to Love Your Congregation,

and How to Love the Church, Universal.

I’m trying not to release the first part until I have the all of the parts fairly hammered out, so I don’t get distracted from it. Sometimes the joy of finishing and sharing with others a part of my work makes me uninterested in finishing the rest of it. I don’t know why. I’m guessing it has something to do with dopamine and distractibility, wanting to move onto other shiny new ideas and things, but I have been learning my lesson there too.

Lately, in the not monetized or public portion of my life, I’ve also made:

1. Fleece Blankets with my sister

2. Lots of good recipes

3. Started a new bullet journal as I’ve filled my previous one.

and 4. Two sticker charts because they help me remember my responsibilities, and adding stickers makes me want to accomplish things.

I hope you all had a wonderful September, full of making whatever it is you like to make! And I hope October has even more joyous creativity!

Well hello everyone. I have started many of these notes recently and have gotten halfway through, felt they held little point, weren’t good enough, and now they litter my drafts. Half done, and scorned little think pieces.

My entire mission in starting this substack was to move past this kind of behavior. So, in an effort to do so, you might receive a few of these little half baked and slightly ugly pieces. Life updates, book reviews, non-conclusive ponderings and such, as I get back into the flow of regular writing. And maybe even for the foreseeable future.

It’s far too much pressure to turn every bit of writing into a well thought out and at least semi-researched theological paper. Especially with a full time job and all the other trappings of life. I shall try and do a bit more writing from the heart, or from the casual musings of my mind, to fill in the gaps.

So, as for the life update. I’m slowly crawling my way back into normalcy, and not just from it being the summer months.

I was sick with a particularly nasty case of something, which developed into an extremely nasty case of pneumonia, for a solid month. It was a bit demoralizing as it has happened smack dab in the middle of the short Wisconsin summer, and left me with a sense of not only not being able to do things, but also a sense that there are things that have to be done that are all piling up, ready to steal the entire next month from me too! Especially considering August is probably the busiest month of the year for my job.

But I will say, there was good in that month. I have been surprised by, and felt incredibly loved by the people in my life who have checked in on me, and also those who showed up for me with helping hands, notes, gifts, food and the like. To Quote the old hymn; “I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God.”

My wonderful Grandmother Leola also passed away during this time. I wrote about her both in my journal and in a post on my social media accounts, and I’m not sure I want to do so here, as she deserves her own post if I’m going to really go for it and cry again. But she was a wonderful, funny, and kind Christian woman, who I was very close to, and have countless good memories with. She had dementia for the past several years, was quite frail, and it was her time to be with Jesus, so it’s hard to sit in sadness for too long about it. While I will miss her, I know without a doubt I will see her again, and in everything this verse rings incredibly true: “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:55-58

Drat, now I’m crying again.

Now it’s September and I’m starting to function like a fairly normal Lydia again, I’ve been working hard not to commit to too many things at once, even though everything stopped for me for a month, and even though it’s my favorite time of year.

I was reluctant to hop onto the Autumn train, despite it being my favorite season, as I was desperate to get some of my summer back. However, all it took was a breath of sixty degree weather to completely change my mind. Now, despite it being in the 80’s again, I’m in full on harvest time mode in my heart.

I’ve been eyeing up my new bullet journal, exited to outline a new “Semester” for myself. This is something I’ve been doing for awhile now. I get excited with all the back to school talk, and feel a bit of “Fomo” about it, despite the fact that I was homeschooled my entire life. I guess I can attribute that to my Mother, and her efforts to make “back to school” a fun thing. She succeeded! And now I want to go back to learning every year.

The big thing I want to focus on my in first semester is a study unit on Arthurian Literature. I recently read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight for the first time and loved it. And while I had my disagreements with how certain things were portrayed in “The Green Knight” movie, I loved that too. (If you’d like to hear my more in depth thoughts, let me know!) Anyway, I am now in possession of many different forms of Arthurian retellings and overwhelming myself with options. I am open to advice on which are the best! I also have ‘The Once and Future King” on Audible.

Also, my dear cousin and fellow Author Mevia Mastropietro has just released a wonderful book, one that I had the honor of giving edits and feedback on in its early form, so I feel like a proud book Aunt. It’s called “The Writer’s Faith Companion: A 30 day guide to exploring God’s book while planning yours”

You can find it here!

It’s a wonderful resource if you are planning a novel, and will also make you think through hard questions about what your Christian responsibility is as an author, while pointing you towards the Bible for the answers.

I interviewed her about this book, her other projects, and her writing processes for The Story Analysis Podcast, and you can listen to that, Here!

I could talk about many other things, but they will have to have their own post as this one is getting a bit long in the tooth. I wish you all a great start to the Academic Year, and a wonderful Autumn to come.

Thanks for sticking around!

Lydia

When you see the first few snowflakes of the season falling from the sky, even if you hate winter, even if you hate snow, even the most calloused of us can’t help but feel that tiny little surge of wonder. We can’t help but be reminded of a time long ago, when we were a little boy or girl and we ran to go bundle up and play outside after waking up to see a ground covered in fresh white flakes. 

There isn’t a lot of danger left in snow. Most of us have well insulated homes and have to do little more than press a button to turn the heat up to tropical levels if we desire. There isn’t any pulling on boots and jackets to go use a freezing cold outhouse in the middle of the night. 

We no longer have to fight to survive Winter, so now it only represents a mild inconvenience that we have to tolerate.

Our world is set up to be unchanging. No matter the time or circumstance. It could be 105 degrees in a drought, or negative 50 with your driveway closed up in three feet of snow with an ice shield coating it. You are still supposed to show up to your day job, same time, same level of energy and focus. Rinse, repeat. 

So when we fill up our cars with Gasoline and our hands crack from the cold, when it’s pitch black on our drive home at five pm, or our drive takes twice as long because the roads are icy, or we have to get up at five am to chisel out our driveways we let out angry sighs, raise our hands in frustration and think, why do we live here?! So we buy cars with heated seats, pay for the plow service, and grumble. We no longer have to race against winter to survive so now we try and beat it into submission so it doesn’t affect us at all. 

But I think there’s something magical about it all. Because sometimes the forecast doesn’t tell you there’s going to be a storm, and everyone wakes up and knows work will be starting late no matter what. School is canceled, and parents are forced to use a vacation day and spend time with their children. Or ice covered roads means you extend an invitation for your friend to spend the night in rarely exercised hospitality, pulling out old quilts and extra towels, and a creative last minute breakfast plan. 

Snow is one of the last things that can wreck our plans. We can be hell bent to take that flight, come hell or high water, we will be on that plane, until tiny little snowflakes start to fall from the sky. 

It’s a great, humbling reminder. One that I usually appreciate, even though my plans have also been wrecked by the little flakes. There’s a thrill in the air when a snowstorm is coming, and I can’t help but find it exciting. A halt, a pause, forced upon us by the God of creation. 

"But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong;"

Proverbs 16:9 The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps.

1 Corinthians 1:28-29 God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. 

It’s a reminder that all God has to do is send a blizzard and the people can rail and complain but they can’t do anything about it but change their plans. It reminds us that we are only human, small, loved by the Father, but at the mercy of snowflakes.

The rat was chewing his hair while he slept.

If you were a girl between the year 1940 and now, there is a good chance you became aware of this horrific event that took place during the long winter of 1880-1881. One of many horrific events during that season, but definitely the one that stuck the most with young, impressionable, Lydia while she read “The Long Winter” by Laura Ingalls Wilder with her mother around the age of seven. This event succeeded in cementing my rodent phobia even deeper inside of me.

I loved the Little House on the Prairie series growing up. Laura’s first book, Little House in the Big Woods, was set in Wisconsin, not all that far from where I currently live. While Laura was a real person and her stories are based on her life, they’ve still become part of the mythos of my state and my childhood. Like Paul Bunyan, The Beast of Bray Road, Hodags of Rhinelander, The Trolls of Mount Herob, the Ojibwe, Chippewa, Potawatomi and Menominee legends of Wendigo, Thunderbirds, and much more.

Like so many girls my age, I found Laura relatable, while being transported back into what seemed like the magical time of the pioneers. Her stories brought me back to when the land was untamed, with dark, impenetrable woods and wide, expansive grasslands. A time when settlers and loggers moved through large prairies and big woods toward the west, and coming across native tribes, harkening back even further to a time when the Chippewa, Potawatomi, Oneida, Menominee and Ho-Chunk tribes moved and lived freely off of the land. 

The Westward Expansion followed by the Civil War lay a mere step behind the birth of Laura Ingalls. And during her life, our nation was still fraught with conflict between native tribes and the US government, between races, and also between the North and South of the United States. But her small, childlike view of the world, was contained mostly by her own family as all of ours are, and didn’t capture much of the broader picture of these issues.

I, like Laura, loved my dog and my family, hated Nellie Olsen the school yard bully, and found the idea of sitting quietly and resting on Sunday nothing short of a form of torture.

I glommed onto her exciting, adventurous, life which was filled with small, average joys that seemed much more magical when paired against the fact that her life was fraught with hardships and danger. A small maple candy must indeed be sweeter when it’s not just the only sugar you have, but also when you’re regularly facing wolves, rats and devastating winters. 

In this day and age in the American North, many of us travel much further than Laura did. It probably takes us less than a week, or a day if we go by plane, and doesn’t mean we have to make a new home in whatever new land we arrive at, and never see our families again. 

And the majority of us are very blessed with not only an over abundance of the luxury of sugar, but also safety and provision in Winter. We do have the poor and the homeless to always be considered and helped during this time, but most of us have ready access to heat, and to food. Here in Wisconsin the cold still kills people every year, but a very small percentage. Alcohol, drugs, and homelessness make up a fair portion of it. 

In the year of 2021 most of us in Wisconsin aren’t worried about starving to death by the end of February because the frost came early and took our harvest. And I would be shocked to find anyone who was born in Wisconsin and currently living who has twisted hay into logs to keep a fire going in order to not freeze to death. Hungry wolves aren’t prowling outside of our door.

I have lived in Wisconsin my entire life and from what I’ve witnessed there seems to be two fairly prevalent attitudes towards winter.

The first I tend to find in children, and people who are upper middle class. Or as they would probably rather be referred to as, “Comfortable”. We are excited for winter! We can play outside in the snow! For children this often means snowball fights and snowmen. For the “Comfortable” this usually means many ski trips and snowmobiling on their land. Perhaps a flight down south once it all gets to be a bit much.

The second is the one I run across the most. Even from the “Comfortable”. We dread winter. It’s too cold. It’s too dark. And it’s far too long. There are dangerous icy roads, endless hours of shoveling, and for what? Seasonal Depression, boredom, the Flu, and higher heating bills. 

Difficult things, surely. But certainly not rats, wolves, hypothermia and starvation. 

The crazy thing is that that potential, that kind of life seems SO far away from us. But Laura Ingalls was born in 1867. That seems like a long time ago when our current date starts with the number two, but from the year 2023 which is when I’m writing this, it was only 156 years. Which may feel a lot to us, but is basically nothing in the grand scheme of history. Laura died in 1957. Only six years before the birth of my father.

So why is there such a negative view of Winter? When we’ve so thoroughly conquered its dangers? When most of us can afford heat, water, food, and some cozy books to curl up with? When none of us are beating ice off of the clothes we have to wash and hang dry, or melting snow for water?

Why is there so much resentment for a God given season? When the only good thing people can say about it is that it holds a holiday?

I am hoping to in this short series to delve into the question; What is the purpose of winter?

Of course, part of this debate has to circle back to what we deem as high literature, classics, intellectual reading, and all our biases within it. But that will have to be dug into further at a different time. However, it is worth noting here that in his time, Shakespeare’s plays were simply the popular entertainment for the masses. Like Twilight or Star Wars. And just because we don’t necessary have, or are familiar with, good records of the tropes and themes present in his work that came before his time, it certainly doesn’t mean that he originated all of them.

All that pondering aside, I recently read Othello and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. And perhaps that’s because I simply didn’t “read” a bit of it.

(Though saying that goes against my personal beliefs a bit, as I DO consider listening audiobooks, reading. Not necessarily working the same skill set or muscles- I believe highly in the benefits of teaching children to read and reading comprehension. But we do not all have enough time in our days to sit down for hours and read. And some of us with sight issues cannot read with our eyes at all. If we have consumed the entirety of a book, I think we can say that we’ve read it without some grand clause stating that we in fact, listened to it.)

However, the fact that I listened feels pertinent to this conversation, as I thought I might share with you not only my thoughts, but my method for working through Shakespeare’s works in a way that’s not torturous, but rather enjoyable! With options for those who may like to read with their eyes and those who may not.

My hope is that this “Method” could be used for studying alone, in a group setting, or even as a homeschooling resource. So without further ado, here is Lyd’s Method for Enjoying Shakespeare! (And Classic Literature in general)

The Folger Edition books are how I approach Shakespeare. These little books, with their summaries and scene descriptions listed alongside the text are extremely helpful.

But even better, The Folger Shakespeare Library also has full dramatized readings of the Shakespeare plays, Unabridged. These are available on Audible! I tried this method with Othello, and found that listening, paired with looking up the Sparknotes summaries, gave me a wonderful and full experience.

I have to listen to it at 1.5 speed or my mind wanders off between the words and then I’m lost in the mental woods and don’t know what’s going on.

Too often we think of things like Sparknotes as “Cheating”. A way for high schooler's to not do the full reading for their homework or do their own critical thinking. But it’s a great resource. Especially when working through pieces of literature alone, when they’re often tackled in a group setting with a teacher to guide. Listening to actors perform this old time-y dialogue is much more beneficial to understanding the meaning of it than simply reading it off the page- but then, we don’t necessarily know who is all on stage, and what the set design is. Whether a character is monologuing before a jury or to his wife in their bedchamber is a pretty crucial thing to know. Enter Sparknote Act Summaries! They also often have prompts and insight into themes and discussions as well. It’s a wonderful resource when used not as a replacement, but as a tool!

I listened to a section and then read the summaries but you could do the reading first especially if you’re struggling to understand what’s happening.

The real secret sauce to this method however, is to make it an experience. Set yourself up for success as either an individual or as a teacher. Gather up other mediums to enjoy and make it more of an immersive experience. I like to find a movie or play and then save watching it for when I finish reading through the play on my own. It’s a sort of motivating reward at the end of my effort. Though, if you or your student is really struggling to understand what’s happening on the page, you could always do it first, or in small increments.

I believe this 1951 Orsen Welles movie is what I watched as a teenager when we discussed Othello in one of my high school “historical periods in arts and literature” classes. I don’t think we read the book, because we were studying Opera at the time, and not Shakespeare.

This 1995 movie is my reward for finishing the play! Look, it’s morpheus! And once again, good ole’ Kenneth.

I also greatly enjoy looking up different art that has been inspired by the play, or other works that have either provided inspiration for it or have used it as inspiration themselves. Apparently Toni Morrison wrote her own play called “Desdemona” which I’m very curious to check out. It’s a good reminder that no artists or author lives in a vacuum and that we are all borrowing from each other, wether we are aware of it or not.

The internet has made such research so very easy to do!

I find keeping track of my goals and their progress in my bullet journal to be highly motivating. It reminds my split and scattered brain what I ACTUALLY want to be doing, and I do so love to fill in those little boxes with colored markers and check marks. Silly but satisfying. I know this can also be a horrible tactic for some people as it suddenly reminds them of school in a bad way, or a to-do list. But it works for me!

Pretty colored markers and stickers make it feel like a craft and fun!

Another thing I like to do is to scout around and build my own “classroom” feedback. I look for youtube commentary videos, articles, reviews. It’s always amazing and interesting to hear what others can get out of a book, wether the author intended it to be in there or not. You don’t have to agree with it- but it’s certainly good to hear from other perspectives! Especially if you finish a book confused as to the point, or why anyone likes it or considers it good. It might not change your opinion- but it might show you something you missed!

These are on my list to watch before I move onto a different play. I haven’t watched them yet, so don’t take the examples as endorsement. But these are just two of many options available on youtube!

But back to Othello-

Here are my less than elegant reflections.

Iago is the worst kind of man. Perhaps in a modern retelling he would be an Andrew Tate following, self proclaimed “High Value Man” type. Feeling himself scorned for things he thinks he’s owed (in this case, a promotion), and flush full of insecurity, he spews blatant sexism and racism constantly throughout the play. We find out almost as a minor point, he has convinced himself that his wife has slept with the general in the past, though this seems to have no proof and is simply the result of his being obsessed with Othello.

He is a mixture of Judas, and Little Finger from game of thrones, pulling strings, making deals, manipulating, and spreading whispers to try and ruin Othello’s life. He doesn’t care who gets killed along the way. In fact, he relishes in it as he desperately tries to convince his General that his new wife, Desdemona is cheating on him.

Othello, who by all accounts seems like a good man and a sympathetic character, is an absolute weenie. He gives his ear to Iago and lets the vile little man lead him around by the nose and takes scraps of “evidence” as iron clad proof that his new wife Desdemona is cheating on him with Cassio. (The man who got the promotion Iago wanted.) He goes practically mad by the end of the play, not explaining himself to his wife at all or allowing her to even make a case for herself. He eventually ends up murdering her in their bed. He realizes his mistake and THEN is sorry about it. And you know, color me a modern feminist- But cry me a freaking river, Othello, you absolute boob.

Desdemona (like too many of Shakespeare’s female characters) resigns herself to death. She knows her husband is going to kill her before he ever does, and she doesn’t know what she did to ever deserve this. She’s sad and angelic and beautiful, of course. I will give Desdemona this, especially in this time period, if your husband does want to kill you, there’s probably not much you can do.

Emilia, Iago’s Wife, is the real MVP of this play, despite her short comings. She lets everyone, especially her dirty, rotten, no-good husband absolutely have it at the end. Her friend is dead, and she’s not afraid to call Othello an idiot for listening to Iago instead of his own wife. She gives them all the tongue lashing they so readily deserve. Iago kills his wife, of course, because the Andrew Tates of the world can’t possibly let a woman have opinions, much less rebuke their heinous ways. And Othello ends up killing himself.

But at the end of this tragedy we do at least know that “Winter has come” for house Iago, and he is imprisoned and tortured. A paltry payment for his crimes.

-

The biggest thing that stood out to me, was how much race and racism played a huge role in this play. The characters in the beginning will laud Othello as a hero and a great man, but at the idea of one of “their” women marrying him, they resort quite quickly to painting the picture of him as some sort of “dark” animal or beast. One goes from esteemed general to savage pagan almost instantly. And the welcomed adventurer suddenly gets painted as a brute.

This particular theme reminded me strongly of Wuthering Heights.

Now, Heathcliff and Cathy are both horrible people in Wuthering Heights. Their passion and selfishness consumes and destroys each other and those around them. Where as Desdemona and Othello’s love story for a short time at least, seems to be true and honoring to one another.

But the mistreatment, othering, and straight up vilifying of a new, unknown and unconnected stranger of a darker complexion is extremely harsh in both. And any grafting into the society that the sojourner might hope to accomplish after many years of effort is completely stripped away once it is know that they desire to marry in.

And you wonder how much of this othering is taken deep inside of the person, painting and twisting their own self worth and beliefs. Could Heathcliff or Othello ever be confident in a woman from these people groups loving them? Certainly, it’s not Iago alone causing Othello’s mind to doubt so easily. And even if they were convinced of her love, and it was true and unwavering, would that ever be enough? Would this place and people ever feel like home and family?

All in all, I am glad I listened to Othello. And I highly recommend giving any piece of classic literature a try by turning it into a little project for yourself. Set yourself up for success in understanding, and allow yourself to enjoy it beyond just reading the book. Happy Studying!

I have edited this novel countless times. I sent it out to beta readers years ago and got a bunch of good feedback on it then. I still plan to honor my promise, that their names will be in this novel and they will get a free copy when it’s published.

However none of the feed back helped me solve a very specific frustration. I knew it needed something. Particularly in the third act. But those things often have be woven in through all the acts. And all my feedback, while good, and encouraging, and needed, couldn’t tell me what it was. And all my editing, straining and frustration couldn’t make it better. And I knew it needed to be better.

Is this perfectionism? The thing that kills many a novel or even just the idea of a novel before it’s even written, much less published? It’s possible. But I really don’t think so. This was the first novel I wrote and it was not ready, despite my need to move on from it. And move on from it I did, to many other projects, some shared, some not.

But here we are. I have picked up my metaphorically dusty, whatever number draft this version of Sapling is, and have decided that it rested long enough. Hopefully the yeast has caused it to rise, and I can approach it with fresh eyes now and figure out just what is needed to move this story into a place that feels finished. That I can be proud of it enough to release it into the world.

And I wanted to share with you what might be one of my favorite bits of my writing. This portion hasn’t change much, even through all the drafts that I’ve come up with. Despite the fact that the character Alouette follows was one of those funny moments writers talk about when they say “They just showed up and took over.” His name you find out later, is Birch, and he was probably my first deviation from my careful outline. Just shows you can’t get too hung up on your plans when you haven’t even started writing yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this early moment from my first novel, Sapling.

The air was cool and crisp and smelled like fall. Alouette smiled as she took a deep breath. Saturdays were for exploring. And this Saturday Alouette was going to wake a tree up. She traipsed over to the Maple tree that stood outside her bedroom window and studied it. She placed her hands on her hips and walked all the way around it, trying to decide just which branches were its arms and where its face would be.

"Alright tree, wake up!" she demanded. 

The tree however, did nothing of the sort. It just stood there, not moving, as trees are known to do. 

Alouette scowled at the tree. "HeLLO,” she called, stomping forward and knocking on its trunk. “Hello in there, wake up!" 

The Maple did not wake up and Alouette grew frustrated. She didn't like being ignored. "Wake up!” she shouted, stomping on its roots and kicking the base of the tree. "I know you can hear me, wake up, wake up, Wake Up!" She paused, a bit tired from her efforts, huffed, and sat down against the tree, glaring up at it. She felt hot and sweaty. She reached up to a low hanging branch and grabbed a handful of leaves. She yanked them off and looked up at the tree quickly, watching for a reaction. Nothing.

Alouette sighed, and leaned her head back against the tree, looking up at it from under the leaves and branches.

How was she supposed to prove to her parents that there were tree people if her own tree refused to cooperate? She'd have to ask her grandmother about how to wake things up. She was sure her grandma would know all about it, she was a gardener! Plus, grandmas tended to know lots about everything. But she wouldn't see her grandma until Monday after school. And, as you know, that is far too much time to wait. 

Alouette leaned forward and peered around the maple at the woods behind the yard. She wasn't allowed to go into the woods by herself. She could get lost, her parents told her. Alouette had always suspected there were probably trolls and goblins deep in the woods so she stayed out of them. But she always wondered if there might also be fairies and elves, and that perhaps running into a few goblins would be worth it. 

And tree people. If any place had tree people, it would have to be the woods, wouldn't it? Alouette suspected that there were probably loads of tree people in the woods. Perhaps the fairies woke them up and they all had fabulous parties in the woods. And of course as all unfairness would have it, Alouette would never see them, because her parents would never allow her to go into the woods. 

She sighed again and looked into the endless expanse of trees, hoping and wishing to catch a glance of a tree person.

And that's when she saw it. 

To the left, surrounded by pines, a small Birch tree waved a branch, and winked at her. 

Alouette rubbed her eyes, and stared. 

The birch tree nodded at her and waved a branch again. 

Alouette slowly raised a hand to wave back.

The tree shook his head, waved again, and Alouette realized it was waving her forward. Beckoning to her to come, past the forbidden tree line, and into the woods. 

Alouette hesitated, and stood slowly, brushing the bits of leaves and bark off the back of her coat. 

The tree beckoned to her once again and Alouette started forward. Something nagged at the back of her mind, whispering to her that she wasn't supposed to. That she could get lost or hurt, that her parents would be mad, and worried. 

But she kept walking. 

I suppose, when a tree comes alive and wants to show you something, something inside of you goes to see what it is on instinct. And it was this instinct that propelled Alouette past the tree line and into the woods, towards the birch tree. 

As she got closer to it, the tree grinned and there was a great swell of cold, autumn wind, blowing the musty smelling leaves up into Alouette’s face and hair.

She sputtered and brushed them out of her face, looking around. The Birch tree was no longer before her, but quite a ways further off into the woods yet, waving for her to come after it. 

Alouette frowned, nervous about going so far into the woods. She looked behind her and realized that she could see her house, and the big Maple in her yard, still there, behind the pine branches. 

She turned back to the Birch tree and headed towards it, wondering what it wanted to show her, and wondering if trees could talk as well as move.

"Hello?" she called out after it in a whisper. Somehow in the stillness of the woods she felt like she should whisper.

The tree didn't answer, it just jerked its head over what she assumed was its shoulder, wanting her to walk towards it. 

Alouette kept walking, faster now, climbing over and under the foliage of the forest, but she never seemed to get any closer to the tree. It must have been walking away from her as it motioned to her, wanting her to follow it. Alouette huffed. "Wait!” she yelled, running towards. “Stop moving, wait for me!" she protested. “I just want to talk to you-" and then Alouette froze, realizing she had been walking for quite some time. 

She turned around and looked over her shoulder quickly, hoping to find the comforting sight of her house or perhaps a bit of orange from the maple tree just a ways behind her.

But she didn't. Behind Alouette looked exactly like in front of Alouette. Trees, upon trees and more trees. 

It was darker, this deep in the forest, the sun making eerie patterns on the ground between the branches. 

Alouette shivered, and rubbed her arms suddenly very glad she wore her striped mittens. 

She looked back to the birch tree who was still grinning and beckoning to her and suddenly Alouette grew frightened.

Fear can save lives, and it can also kill people.

In order to really delve into any of the topics I presented in the introduction, I want to start with fear. The next few installments will be focused on this topic. What it is, what the Bible says about it, and what God’s purpose for fear is.

Merriam Webster Dictionary currently describes Fear as:

1. an unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger

2. anxious concern

3. profound reverence and awe especially toward God

4. reason for alarm

When digging through different verses of the Bible that reference fear, perhaps you’ll be surprised that I couldn’t find any that entreat us to fear the devil, Satan, or evil.

In fact, I found quite the opposite.

Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

Romans 8:25 “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!””

Psalm 27:1 “Of David. The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

Hebrews 13:6 “So we can confidently say, “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?””

There are many verses in scripture that have to do with Satan and demons, which we will dig into later, but none of which tell us to fear him, or to fear demons, or to fear those who are living in darkness. In fact, references to when we should have fear seemed to be only be cropping up in one context:

Proverbs 8:13 “The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil. Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate.”

Deuteronomy 10:12-13 “And now, Israel, what does the Lord your God require of you, but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep the commandments and statutes of the Lord, which I am commanding you today for your good?”

Proverbs 1:7 “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.”

Job 28:28 “And he said to man, ‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to turn away from evil is understanding.’”

Joshua 4:25 “That all the people of the earth may learn the most mighty hand of the Lord, that you also may fear the Lord your God for ever.”

Luke 1:50 “"And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.”

We are to fear God, and thus turn away from our own evil deeds. To turn away from our own understanding and to Him and His Word. This fear should not plunge us into greater paranoia, and not push us into hiding- but it should fill us with reverent awe, bring us to our knees, and send us running from sin and wickedness and into the safety of His family.

My mind turns me to my great childhood favorite, the Lion King. There is a moment early in the film where young, foolish, child Simba goes waltzing into a literal Valley of Shadow which his father has forbade him to enter. He and his friend Nala are cornered by very hungry hyenas, ready to devour them. They are afraid, and without hope. Right before the dreaded meal begins, who should show up but the King, Simba’s father, Mufasa. He arrives to literally beat off the evil ones, and pluck his wayward son out of the situation that his disobedience had brought him into.

In that moment it’s very clear who should be feared. Not these pathetic, wicked hyenas, but the great lion king who effortlessly bats them away from his son. And even in the great triumph and relief of Mufasa showing up, ready to kill those who would harm his beloved son, there is still fear. Because Simba knows, he “deliberately disobeyed” his father. He put himself in very real danger that he almost didn’t come back from, and of course like so many of us, he also dragged one of his friends along with him. He knows he was in the wrong, and in the next scene we see him slinking low in the grass, dreading the wrath of his father. His father does indeed rebuke him, exposing how wrong it was to do what he did. But Mufasa never turns the wrath he showed the hyenas upon his beloved son. He sees his remorse, accepts the apology, and quickly forgives him.

I feel like this example, and this movie in general, has the ability to paint wonderful analogies when it comes to scripture and the gospel. Hyenas, like demons, and Satan, are a very real threat. When Simba defies his father, leaving the safety of his kingdom he shouldn’t be surprised to find himself surrounded by hyenas. And he should be afraid. They’re depraved, ready to devour us, stronger, and terrifying. But luckily for Simba, King Mufasa is his father, and is near. And when our father is God, King of the universe, all powerful, ever present, and living within us, how silly it seems to cower in fear of the hyenas.

As we face the evils of this world, study some of them here, and wonder and chew on how we are to meet such things, we must remember that fear of Evil should not guide our conduct. Rather, fear of God must. And we also must remember that fear of evil and the demonic does not keep us safe. God, our Father, does.

Below is a bit of my journaling. A reflection on a moment that took place in the beautiful October nature of Wisconsin, during one of our annual lake home vacations. I wrote it during the same trip that it happened, a few years ago, and I thought you might enjoy.

I stand on the pier and look at the water, a question rising inside of me.

Why don’t I jump in?

I love swimming and feel as if I never get the opportunity to do so.

There aren’t great adult hours at the community pool, and the YMCA is a full 25 minute drive away with a costly membership.

It’s October, sure, but the air is pleasant and the water, while cold, is easily walked in.

My phone is back in the house and I’m in cloth shorts and a t-shirt.

But such a thing would be silly. Especially to do alone, right? No nephews to join the fun, no teasing. Certainly I’ll be met with questions when I return. The big confused, Why? Because she’s weird, or worse, because she’s trying to be quirky.

But then I remember the fierce young girl who dove into waves larger than her. The girl who swam in the frigidly cold waters of Lake Superior with gusto, refusing to come back even when it had been hours and she still wasn’t used to it. The girl who longed to swim as often as possible, and who found it nothing short of a punishment if we stayed at a hotel that didn’t have a pool.

Where had she gone?

If that girl had the opportunity to be at a lake, she would swim. She would swim every day, multiple times.

And if she had the opportunity to jump into a lake with out first asking permission?

She wouldn’t hesitate. What freedom. What bliss.

My adult brain weighs it’s options in protest.

I could just walk around in the water. Not get my clothing wet. My legs would dry quickly and it would just be for me, no one would know.

Just because people know, doesn’t mean it’s not just for you, child brain quickly counters.

I certainly don’t have to jump. I could just wade in slowly. That would be more dignified.

But I will be cold and it will be miserable and I might stop before the cold water reaches the really painful bits.

My feet walk backwards, eyes pointed forward at the slow moving ripples.

No it had to be a jump. A running jump off the end of the pier into the water.

Cold water is supposed to be great for you. People who swim in unseasonable waters are supposed to be strong and have health benefits, right? Child brain is now using the adult brains logic against it.

But it doesn’t have to. Because the adult brain remembers the little girl running out into vast waters with reckless abandon. Joyfully being buffeted and knocked down by large waves. Because such waters, sustaining millions of people, animals, plants, for thousands of years, might as well have been set there just for her. Waiting for her.

And as I look out over this water, alone, it feels that way now. As if it’s been patiently waiting here for me to come to this revelation. To let go of whatever ridiculous notions are holding me back, and jump.

Just jump.

Just jump.

Thump thump thump thump-

SPLOOSH.

It’s cold. The air rushes out of me as I surface and let out a laugh. The water caught me, as it always does. I feel invigorated, from the decision, the jump, and the cold. I quickly do some laps hoping my muscles don’t lock up too much, but at the same knowing that’s probably a dramatic thought. We hadn’t even had a frost yet this year and it’s in the seventies.

This could be my life, I think, as I often do.

If I lived here and worked from home.

Would I make it a priority to swim in the lake every morning? To paddle around? To watch the water and look through the trees and notice the blue jays and black squirrels and northern pikes swimming by my paddle board?

Or would I take it for granted? And stay inside? Letting the ease and worries of an adult life keep me from wonder? Clinging to man’s creation and ignoring God’s? Ignoring my birthright of land stewardship? Searching through the world on my smart phone and ignoring the earth just outside my door?

I swim around and float awhile, feeling alive. I feel as if child Lydia is proud of me in this moment, and I realize how wise she can be. How good of a course corrector. She had decided a long time ago that growing up would not mean that we wouldn’t have fun and be excited. That we would not lose our wonder, or sense of magic.

And she was right. Showering off and putting your lake clothing into the washing machine isn’t a big deal. Neither is your family asking you why.

It was fun and I wanted to, so I did.

Perhaps their inner child brains will be prodded a bit to remember. To wake up and approach God’s world with a childlike sense of wonder. To find something worth running at. And to Jump.

Halloween.

Dungeons and Dragons.

Harry Potter.

Yoga.

What do these things all have in common?

Lydia likes them!

What else do they have in common?

Accusations of Witchcraft and/or Devil worship by fellow Christians, often on the internet, though also in my own community. Sometimes to my own face!

Tempted I have been, many a day in October, to snap back on social media against condemning posts made by people I vaguely know on the evils of October 31st.

Also, while trying to curate my Tik Tok algorithm to show me thoughtful Christian content, I am tempted to comment harshly under the videos of brothers and sisters in Christ posting about the wickedness of Taylor Swift’s live performances. They shake their heads as they describe her witchcraft rituals on stage, the power of which is clearly proven by the audience reactions! This is why people don’t take us seriously, I think, as I force myself to scroll and not get embroiled into an internet hate spiral.

I remember as a teenager being asked if I believed in Harry Potter, and my internal struggle to answer thoughtfully and kindly, while choking back an incredulous laugh, and the question, “what does that even mean?”.

Maybe you’re shocked to hear I like these things. Or that my heart can be so uncharitably quick to annoyance with my fellow christians. Perhaps you’ve forbidden your teens to play Dungeons and Dragons in the 80s, or have warned others of the dangers of attending a yoga class. Maybe you’re mentally composing a worried email to me right now, or even just googling “Taylor Swift, witchcraft rituals” to see what I’m talking about. That’s okay. I ask that you please continue reading!

Then again, maybe you’re chuckling at shaking your head at my examples. Certainly, not all of my fellow Christians see evil in these things. Plenty of them, perhaps even most, haven’t thought twice about the potential of these things being evil, or of having any ability to negatively effect God’s people or lead them astray.

In fact, maybe they struggle to actually believe angels and demons even exist. In metaphor yes, in theory maybe, but in our own lives? They are often the types who are quick to say “It’s just a movie.”, “That’s not real.”, “I don’t listen to any of that crap.”, or even “I thought it was all just hocus pocus, but it actually worked!”. If this sounds like you, I would also ask that you please continue reading. I would also suggest that this flippant disregard of such concerns, of never considering ourselves susceptible to wicked influences, or of them having an impact on the world, is not how we are called as Christians to consume media or approach our activities.

Now, perhaps the examples I have given at the beginning of this article seem a bit… tame, for lack of a better word. That’s how they feel to me at least. Or maybe you known me, think well enough of me, and give those things mentioned the benefit of the doubt because of it. If so, I appreciate the charitable restraint!

But what about other examples? There are many, many things that are normalized and enjoyed by some Christians and non-Christians in our current culture, and fiercely condemned by others.

What about Doja Cat?

Crystals?

Meditation?

The Enneagram?

Horror Movies?

Essential Oils?

Ghost Hunting?

Astrology?

Reading Religious Texts?

Witchcraft?

I’m guessing as you read down that list you mentally put a little green check mark or a bright red X next to each one. Or perhaps every one of them got a little question mark penciled in.

Is there any possibility of partaking in, or enjoying these things?

Can we accidentally give power to, or accidentally worship Satan?

Is the heart not deceptive above all things?

Shouldn’t evil be so far from us, that our children couldn’t even imagine certain sins?

What duty does a Christian have to understand evil? And how can we do so with out leaning on our own understanding? Is there a way to use discernment on these issues? Or must we run from them, eyes closed, hoping desperately to avoid the devil’s snare?

With this series, I am hoping to dive into this complicated topic. We will discuss and pick apart some of the examples mentioned above, while pulling back and looking at broader themes, like our approach to cultural practices, other religions, art, knowledge and of course, what the Bible says about such things.

I am not looking to push anyone into watching, engaging with, or celebrating something they’re not comfortable with. Nor do I claim to be an expert on these things. At times, this series might drum up more questions than answers. But my hope is that it will encourage us to think deeply on these issues, be long-suffering with each other, and help us to grow in discernment. And I hope you will join me for the journey!

I thought I would share a poem I wrote a couple of years ago, that I’m hoping to turn it into a children’s book in the near future. Some of you may have read it before, as I posted it on my instagram once. But I was thinking on it recently and thought it was worth sharing again!

“Sometime late September, when the evenings are less fair,
If you listen very closely you will hear the whispers in the air.

Of the goblins, sprites, and ghouls, and all the wicked sort.
Of the wild, old, and free, and of the Autumn Court

Mothers and Fathers bring children in, 
before the sun goes down.

For fear of the wile and wicked things, 
The changing brings to town.

The dog days are over, with all summer fun. 
And faced with the school year, children will run. 

Away to the woods, lured by Pixies and Fey,
Who linger by windows, to take children away. 

To the endless October in the big wondrous wood,
Wouldn’t you join them if only you could?

There live the Autumn King and Queen with all their wild things,
And within all children, large and small, there lurks a wildling

The Autumn King smells like dark soil and fog, he’s cold and a little grey. 
He’s the chill that settles deep in your bones at the end of a long Autumn’s day. 

He brings the death of summer, and beats back the winter winds.
He tames the dead and ghastly, and the goblins wicked whims.

The Autumn Queen’s quite different from the strange, old, mysterious King.
Her hair is as orange as Maples, and her skin’s flushed pink from dancing. 

Foxes, Fairies and Woodland Beasts they love her one and all. 
She is the warm October sun, and smells like frosted leaf fall.

The goblin king lives deep in the forest, not found till you’ve lost your way. 
But the queen’s home is the entire wood, open wide for her fairies to play.

So run little children, be free, but take care 
As you trade out the flowers for leaves in your hair. 

Fairies and foxes may come to play
And beg you to waste the days away.

But they will be gone with the cold winter frost
And old man winter is not kind to the lost.

So as the days get dark, make your way home
Where your parents have places to settle your bones

The woods are where adventure and imagination abound.
But home has warmth, comfort, and love to be found.”

Text copyright © 2018 by Lydia Gappa

Disheartening, isn’t it?

In fact, God's word is so rich, deep, and always balancing itself for our sake, that to our limited understanding, it often seems at odds with itself. How can we do anything well or confidently, when at times the Bible feels contradictory?

Justice. Mercy.

Wrath. Love. 

Work. Rest. 

Family. Strangers.

And because the Bible tells us of all the good things we must do, and we know that we cannot possibly do them all, much less well, we often want to exchange it. We are tempted to focus on just one charge.

We push away the vast and difficult task of trying to take in the whole council of God and instead pick one thing to really hone in on and try to obey. Perhaps it’s a fruit of the spirit that seems most lovely to us. Perhaps it’s the one we feel we struggle with the most. Maybe it’s an element of the law we feel is really lacking in society today, or maybe the one that feels like it really fixed our lives once we implemented it.

Then we focus in on it, taking everything in the Bible as proof to reinforce and reflect back our idea of “what it all really boils down to”, and in turn, making a false religion out of it. 

Work. 

Kindness. 

Family. 

The Earth. 

Love.

Truth.

The Law.

Grace.

Government.

Peace.

When in fact, God has given us all these things and more, not to contradict, or undermine the value of any one of them, but to balance us and make us more like Him. We should be caring about all that He has for us to care about. About all the things He Himself cares about. It’s overwhelming, how much God has for us to do. How much we have to work on. To care about. But we must.

We must keep ourselves from fixating on one thing and making monsters of ourselves, turning one of God's great attributes into a idol, ourselves into proud priests of our lopsided temples. We twist God's word and His attributes into a false religion of the one thing we care about the most. We remake it in our own image. The one thing we find palatable. The one thing we might turn into a work or a mantra that might get us an A+, so we don’t have to deal with God in the push and pull of every moment and decision.

When we uphold Love above all else, we allow and applaud all kinds of unchecked behavior, sexual sin, bad marriages, abusive parenting, harm to self and others, indulgence. Because when we turn Love into a false religion, over simplified and unchecked by all the rest of God's law, we have perverted it in our own image. She becomes Persephone instead of a culmination of God's goodness. 

When we uphold Generosity above all else, we use it as a law, and not a grace freely given, putting ourselves as tyrant kings, and forcing others to share their resources as we have deemed fit, sneering at their financial decisions at best, and at worst, robbing them to use the resources as we, more powerful and wiser people, deem fit.

When we uphold Wisdom above all else, we become wise in our own eyes, making our own intellect god of the universe, delighting in pronouncing judgements on lesser minds, and in calling out other follies in others. If only they weren't stupid, they would be enlightened to God, as we were. We decide that we get to determine, in our understanding, what is correct and not correct about God. And if we cannot understand it- it must be false.

When we uphold a Biblical picture of the family above all else, we can convince ourselves that we are in control of our children’s salvation. That if we are very careful to make sure we figure out every reason and way God made men and women different and perform those roles perfectly, we will have a perfect marriage. That father’s are intercessors, instead of Christ. We might turn parenthood into our only purpose and what will redeem us. And we might begin to believe that the evils of the world are found not in our own hearts, but in lesser homes.

When we uphold Faith above all else, we turn our backs on our duties as Christians, turning to silly tests of God and ourselves, pressing desperately to see into a realm we are not to touch. We end up not taking initiative to our life actively for His kingdom, or we end up endangering the very life he has blessed us with to prove ourselves faithful. We might even find ourselves completely dismissing the beauty and riches of God’s truth, logic and reality as frankly, unimportant. 

And in all of these things, and any other example I could give, we believe that it is our works- our upholding of the one attribute, our devotion and worship of it, that will justify us before God. If we just hold tight enough to our life's pledge of living "In love" or "In faith", etc., then we will be able to stand before the Lord, sanctified.

It is much easier to become soldiers of Truth or of Faith, like one might have become a celebrated hero serving Apollo or Athena in time past, than to become soldiers of the cross. It is, after all, an impossible task to be a “Hero” child of God. None of us are A+ students. For a child of God, as they progress down the road of their life, pledged to the Father, will only see more clearly how few accolades they have, how far from the "finish line" they are, how much they have failed, and that they should by all rights in and of themselves, be viewed more as a coward and a criminal, miraculously saved and forgiven, than a honored hero or distinguished warrior. The only true Hero, in the story of the Christian’s life, and in the story of the entire universe, is our Savior, Jesus Christ.

That is the true process of sanctification, Even as we become and more and more sure of His love and cherishing of us. Even as we walk more in His ways. Even as we find a closer and dearer relationship with our Heavenly Father. It only comes through the sacrifice of our Savior.

May we never exchange Jesus for an attribute of the Holy Spirit. May we never exchange His way for a path we might think to be easier to master. May we never leave His temple for our own.

Which feels like a misuse of my life. So, all that to say, I’m hoping that having a place that is meant for thoughtful consumption, and where people don’t have to look at it unless they want to, will enable me to once again feel a freedom around sharing.

I hope to have all sorts of things here. Short essays and personal musings, theological papers, longer research pieces, educational resources, poems and short stories, and updates on my larger projects.

If you would like to see what I’m up to, please subscribe! I’m sure I won’t be clogging up your inbox as my current goal looks like posting something twice a month. Of course things may change in the future, but I’m still figuring out what it means to be writing regularly again!

Thank you for your interest and support!

All the best,

Lydia

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