I have a very normal singing voice (much though I wish I had an operatic soprano so I could create my own flashmob experience at the big box store … but I digress). Singing in public—even on a mostly empty trail—requires a certain degree of boldness.

On that day, I didn’t meet anyone as I sang my way along the trail, but simply singing in an exposed environment felt like a breakthrough.

Maybe we can experiment with speaking the scriptures aloud? Or singing, even softly?

What happens when we use our vocal cords to proclaim God’s word?

In James Goll’s Lost Art of Intercession, he says: “A friend sent me a lengthy study of lightning in the Bible and suggested that lightning is the anointed Word of God going forth from the mouth of the saints. He believed the Scriptures imply that as we speak the Word of God, it goes forth from our mouth like lightning to intercede and strike the mark, routing our enemies and bringing the judgment of God to situations, laying bare the hearts of men, and fully accomplishing whatever God commanded it to accomplish. I have to agree that this is totally in line with the Bible as I understand it” (36).

The Hebrew word “meditate,” hagah, as in Psalm 1:2, “but whose delight is in the law of the LORD, and who meditates on his law day and night,” is not a silent meditation, but would rather be better translated “who speaks his law” or “who mutters his law.”

Usually when I read God’s word, I do so silently.

But if my words could go out like lightning … that is an amazing image! I want that!

Lord, I felt voiceless for so many years. For anyone who also feels voiceless, Lord, I take the sword of the Spirit, dipped in the blood of Jesus, and cut off that voicelessness.

Lord, please release our voices to proclaim your goodness. May we be pray-ers and worshippers in spirit and in truth. Thank you, Lord, that you are the great teacher. In Jesus’ name, amen.

To the only wise God be glory forever through Jesus Christ,

Amy Joy

P.S. I appreciate the Sons of Korah albums so much, those singers of the Psalms. One of my favorites: Psalm 84.

Other worship albums dedicated to singing the scripture, more for family use, include Sing the Word and Seeds Family Worship.

But seven years ago, in 2019, Eliud Kipchoge first ran the distance of a marathon in under two hours. His 1 hour, 59 minute, 40 second marathon was not a race, but an exhibition time trial, a precision endeavor.

To break that two-hour mark for the first time required several key elements.

• Find the Michael Jordan of distance running.

• Schedule a marathon for any of eight days that would have the most optimal running weather.

• Plot the course on a specially optimized route, as flat as possible.

• Send a cyclist along to offer as much hydration—in the favorite brand of the runner—as needed.

• Find a cohort of Olympians and other distance superstars to rotate through, in a phalanx of seven, as a windbreak to improve aerodynamics.

• Project a laser from a car in front to keep the optimal pace.

• Run four and a half minute miles. Mile after mile. (The world record for the mile at that time was 3 minutes, 43.13 seconds. To run four and a half minute miles, again and again … blisteringly fast.)

I read about how Kipchoge “dulls the pain of distance running by smiling mid-competition.”

Trillia Newbell, in her book Sacred Endurance, wrote: “As research shows, part of an athlete’s training includes methods for dealing with pain. Some distract themselves by reciting poems or counting strokes. These athletes are actively engaging their minds to run the race set before them. Although to us their work looks effortless, they are working both physically and mentally to endure to the end” (54).

I suspect I’ve had years in my life where I frowned most of the time.

Perhaps I would have carried less pain if I had smiled more.

But the most moving part of this story, the part that brought me to tears, was the photo of Kipchoge’s finish. Kipchoge in focus. And, blurred in the background, all of his pacesetters. Some with arms raised. Pink shoes still running, leaping, enormous grins.

And the bicyclist, too, pumping his fist.

A new picture of what it means to run the race with endurance.

Not alone. But with a great cloud of witnesses, all celebrating.

Lord, Hebrews 12:1-2a says, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

Lord, thank you for this great cloud of witnesses. Thank you that we get to throw aside all that hinders us. May we run our race well.

Jesus, thank you that you are the pioneer—or, as also translated, the founder, the author—and perfecter of faith. You’re the one who steps out in faith and who brings it to completion.

May we be marked as people of faith. Thank you, Lord. Amen.

Thanks be to God for the revelation of the mystery hidden for long ages past,

Amy Joy

Similar to a Ferris Wheel, in life, in ministry, we have seasons where life is good, and we have friends and we’re going higher.

Then, at some point, life is harder. Some friends fall away. Life feels distressing.

The call then, as always, is to abide in Christ. Pruning isn’t comfortable, but it’s good.

And if we need to correct something … by all means.

But if life circumstances simply push against us … the increase belongs to God.

We see this in Psalm 1, also: the righteous person “yields his fruit in its season.”

The Psalmist doesn’t say, “Righteous people yield fruit continually without stop.”

No apple tree produces apples in January.

There’s a season for rest, a season for new growth that isn’t fruitful yet, a season of increasing strength, a season for fruitfulness.

In a season of harvest: praise God!

In a season of rest: praise God!

In a season of new growth: praise God!

In a season of increasing strength: praise God!

We’re abiding in him, and there’s no better place to be.

Lord, thank you that you don’t expect us to bear an equal amount of fruit at all times. Thank you that you prune us. For all of us in a pruning season, please be gentle with us, Lord. Draw near to us and hold us.

For all in a time of harvest, Lord, bless the harvest. Expand your kingdom.

Thank you for the wise words of those who have gone before, to help us on our journey.

We worship you and praise you. In the name of Jesus, amen.

Be at peace,

Amy Joy

P.S. And if it’s been a bit since you listened to the UK Blessing—it might be time for a refresher! God is for you!

This explains why, when Samuel asked to see Jesse’s sons, David wasn’t invited. (I mean, yes, he was keeping the sheep … but surely they could have found a substitute, had they wanted to.)

Psalm 51:5 makes a little more sense: “Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.”

Because though I can sort of acknowledge that all of us are “conceived in sin,” in the sense that we are born to a person who has sinned, I would never say “in sin did my mother conceive me” of a godly marriage, conceiving godly children.

In Psalm 27:10, he says, “My father and my mother have forsaken me, but the LORD will take me up.”

And when he says he’s the “youngest” in 1 Samuel 16:11, the word “youngest” (qatan) means “of no account; not worthy.”

When Jesus came, he, too, was considered illegitimate.

This might have followed him around throughout his life.

In John 8:19, the Pharisees ask Jesus, “Where is your father?”

In verse 39, they answer, “Abraham is our father.” (Which might imply: we don’t know who yours is.)

And in verse 41, they protested: “We are not illegitimate children.”

I have wondered at times: why did God send Jesus to Mary in such a way as to give her a permanent stigma? Why make his only son seem like one conceived out of wedlock?

Maybe a connection between Jesus and David?

Lord God, thank you for Hebrews 4:15, which says “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin,” or, in another translation, “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin.”

Lord Jesus, thank you that you didn’t come to earth as a king, shielded from the unpleasantness of life. Thank you that you faced many challenges, particularly related to being an outsider, to carrying a stigma your whole life. Thank you that you understand our weaknesses. Thank you that you empathize with us. What other God is like you?

Lord, for any place of stigma or shame, for any label that tarnishes our identity, please remove the labels from your people, Lord. Pull them off, soak them off, tear them off, gently peel them off … but get those lying labels off.

Thank you, Lord, that the label you carried did not dissuade you from fulfilling your purposes. May that be true of us all.

In the name of Jesus, amen.

Thank God who gives us the victory, through our Lord Jesus the Messiah,

Amy Joy

I’ve been experimenting with trying to invite the Lord into my daily life more. I wouldn’t say that’s gone tremendously well, but attempts are still worth something, I’m sure.

I was in the lower pasture, and I was explaining to God why I sometimes wouldn’t think about him as often.

Lord, if I’m really working on a project, I’m very focused on that project. Maybe my brain is the kind of brain where, once it has an assignment, it focuses on that assignment for a few hours before it resurfaces and is ready to check in with the Lord again.

I immediately had a tremendously skeptical question: “Oh, really? That focused, huh?”

Suddenly a montage of images flooded my mind, reminding me how I had actually spent my “focused” afternoon.

I was trying to focus, but maybe the computer needed a minute to think, so I’d check email in between. Or I’d get hungry and get a snack, and when I did that, I would listen to an audiobook.

In short, this idea that I am actually so focused that I can’t actually hang out with the Lord—total baloney.

Oy vey! Repentance!

And as I prayed through, I thought about how, in the era of William Wilberforce, the British people had never had to confront the horrors of chattel slavery. The slave trade happened far from them, Africa to the Caribbean. Out of sight, out of mind.

But in the marketing genius of William Fox, he connected the sugar that the British put in their beloved tea to the horrors of enslavement.

That mundane, everyday beverage became a rallying cry. The 1791 sugar boycott didn’t immediately end the slave trade, but it did help raise public awareness.

I’ve been dreaming for some years: could I use picking up my phone as a reminder to check in with the Lord?

A cell phone is the only thing I can think of as culturally ubiquitous as tea for the British. The only thing as mundane.

Now just to do it.

Lord, if I checked in with you as often as I checked in with my cell phone, I think my life would be pretty radically different.

Teach me how to shift my attention to you. (Grayscale for a bit, I think! That will surprise and horrify me enough, every time I glance at my phone, to remind me: oh, yeah! Check in with the Lord!)

Thank you, Lord, for your sense of humor, your willingness to be present, to correct, guide, tease, and love.

May we all be eager to be more present with you.

We love you, Lord. Amen.

Now to him who is able to establish you in accordance with the gospel,

Amy Joy

P.S. Grayscale instructions, from Google:

On an iPhone, go to Settings > Accessibility > Display & Text Size > Color Filters, turn it on, and select Grayscale.

On Android, go to Settings > Accessibility > Color Correction (or Vision Enhancements) and select Grayscale, or find it under Digital Wellbeing > Bedtime Mode.

In the movie of my life, I immediately cut to a flashback of a camping trip with my church, circa 2005. If I remember correctly, one of my friends was reading Bridget Jones’s Diary, and she asked a group of us, sitting around the campfire, “Do you think you’re funny?”

One of the group said a firm, “Yes,” without hesitation. We all agreed with her—she is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.

I said, “My mother says I’m witty.”

And this is true, too: my mother would say, “You’re so witty” to me on a regular basis, because I could always get her to laugh at one of my stories.

The question-asker then said, “In this book it says that if you ask people, ‘Are you funny?’ and they say, ‘Well, my mother says I’m funny,’ then that’s a good sign that they aren’t funny.”

Oh, goodness! Cue the existential crisis!

Is witty the same thing as funny?

Does this quote apply to me or not?!

So awkward!

And so I shut down that side of me, and never thought to ask the Lord, Is that book correct? Should that quote be the final arbiter of my sense of humor?

But then, fifteen years later, in a different context, I had a friend say, “You’ve got this wonderful sense of humor. Let that shine out more.”

The things which lie dormant are not lost.

Lord God, is there something you would like to restore in my life?

If we sit with this for ten seconds in silence, maybe something comes to mind: word, picture, memory, song.

And whether we heard something or not, let’s pray.

Lord God, thank you that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” Thank you that you give good gifts to men.

Lord, we are surrounded by stacks of gifts. For all the gifts that you have given—may we open them all. And then may we use them, not put them on a shelf to admire or ignore.

We ask specifically, Lord, for any gift that has been broken or tarnished or mocked or despised: restore those gifts to us, Lord. Repair, re-shine, reverse the curse, renew in love.

In the holy and precious name of Jesus, amen.

May we live for the praise of his glory,

Amy Joy

The moderator, my mentor Bob Perry, then asked me to bless the listeners with the anointing I carry as a daughter. He gave a powerful three-sentence description of my parents’ business. I felt honored, excited, and ready to pray.

But as soon as I opened my mouth, I went completely tongue-tied. No thoughts in my mind.

I managed to say … something. But I went through the rest of my day ashamed. How did that go so badly? I pray all the time: with my sister, with my boys, on my own.

Mortifying! What happened to my tongue? Did I need some form of deliverance?! Had I not sanctified my tongue? Am I immature in my prayer life, so if I matured, then that wouldn’t have happened?

Bob gave a helpful explanation.

He has noticed that sometimes, when a person is moving to a new level in prayer, in the presence of God in prayer, they get tongue-tied.

Perhaps because the Lord is showing that our heart should be the ultimate focus, not the person’s appearance, the sound of the voice, or the depth of the language. When the presence of the Lord is at work, the words become almost immaterial. It’s okay to stumble and feel tongue-tied.

And stumbling in prayer is a way to keep a person humble. Without Jesus and his anointing, I am nothing, and even with Jesus and his anointing, the results still come from Jesus.

In Bob’s own life, when he has stumbled in a public setting, he has wondered if he was going through deliverance, breaking off a spirit of man-pleasing.

Not to mention: praying in public offers a unique challenge.

He told me about one time that he was praying during March Madness before the Final Four. The day was cold and windy, and he was praying the Lord’s Prayer outside … and he stumbled over praying the Lord’s Prayer!

“I have prayed the Lord’s Prayer probably 10,000 hours. Not 10,000 times—10,000 hours. But I still stumbled over it!”

The MC stood up after he was finished and said, “That should give us all hope! If even Bob Perry struggles in public prayer, there is hope for the rest of us!”

Which is to say: it’s okay to feel intimidated about public prayer. Let’s bring that to the Lord.

Lord God, please raise up your people to pray in public. May we be willing to set aside the potential for embarrassment, and instead embrace the experience of you at work in our lives, whether we pray gorgeous prayers of power and perfect flow, or stumbling prayers that hardly make sense. Let us grow, Lord, in all the areas that you would have us grow.

We want to go deeper with you, Lord. You are the only source of life in the universe. In the name of Jesus, amen.

Pray on every occasion in the Spirit, with every type of prayer and intercession,

Amy Joy

I had always thought of this “go ye” as a command meaning, “Get started!”

But the Greek for “go,” poreuo, has the sense of “continue on the journey you’ve begun.” Keep going!

So rather than finding the time for some new endeavor to begin, we continue along the road we’re already walking.

And the word “teach,” mathetuo, means “to be a disciple of one, to follow precepts and instructions, to teach and instruct.”

As you’re going, invite people in.

As you go about your day, bear witness to the work of Jesus in your life.

Be a good follower of Jesus, and invite people along.

We have an invitation to abundant life—like a birthday party invitation, but even better!

Lord God, thank you that you spent time with the disciples, teaching them and training them, and that when you sent them out, they simply needed to continue the journey they’d begun.

Thank you, Lord, that we, too, walk with you. For the ways that we walk in joy, we thank you. For the ways that the journey seems unexpectedly difficult, we ask that you would be gracious and patient with us.

Lord, we want to take hold of your abundant life, and we want to invite others along. Teach us how we might do that in our day-to-day lives. Give us new strategies and new insights, Lord. Bring unexpected, creative ideas to mind, that we might walk with you.

Thank you, Lord, for your great goodness to us, and to all the children of men. In Jesus’s name we pray, amen.

Rejoicing that all might come to the obedience that comes from faith,

Amy Joy

We dove in with enthusiasm.

January 2022 was a rousing success. I filed all the requisite topics in their proper places, so neat and orderly.

February was not quite as successful. I suspect I could access all the data if I needed to, but it wasn’t compiled quite as perfectly.

And so it went.

In May, both phone call recorders failed one day, so I completely missed that day’s recording.

And by the end of June, I found myself repeatedly falling multiple days behind, and having to spend the next many days catching up.

Then I looked ahead to July and August: multiple trips loomed. Intermittent recording at best.

Lord, do you have a new strategy for us in this next season?

In this case, yes. We felt like the invitation was to carry on, as best we could, but not try to go back if things fell apart. Grace.

And shortly after that, we set that project aside entirely, and haven’t felt the slightest impetus to pick it back up.

During Bob’s time in the corporate world, he and his team would occasionally take a look at their aspirations and sales goals made at the beginning of the year. Were they on track? What did they need to shift for the months to come?

Most people lagged behind. Reflection became a reality check.

Those who took a midyear pause enjoyed a competitive advantage over those who didn’t—one of the benefits of a progress check.

But perhaps the target we liked in January is no longer the ideal target. As with our (not so) fabulous book project, perhaps we can change the target.

Maybe during a pause the Lord will say, “The plan that looked good in January fit in that season, but now we have a different target. Don’t go on automatic pilot. Stop pursuing the same vision without checking in.”

After living through seven months of the year, and with just over 100 workdays left, we can ask: is the Lord shifting us? Do we still have the same invitation we thought at the start of the year? Or should we move to the next thing?

Whether we need to double down on our original goals, or adjust our goals, or set them aside altogether … in any case, we need to seed the ground with prayer.

This is Bob’s and my invitation to you during the 21 days of intensive prayer in August.

Morning and evening readings in Pursue, available in print and digital form here: https://happybooks.me/pursue

Lord Jesus, I think of how you told the disciples not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait, and how 120 of them were waiting in the upper room when the violent wind came and filled the house where they were sitting. They waited, and you came.

Come again, Lord, for us. Amen.

The king has lavished on us the wealth of his grace,

Amy Joy

P.S. I am not sure I will do anything related to eating—I have felt no direction there.

But I think I will do a soul fast with the Lord, seeking to check in with him every six minutes, for the next assignment.

With soul fasts, we go in expecting not to do very well, but willing to try.

(If you want to give up negative thoughts: you’re probably going to have a bunch of negative thoughts. If you already knew how to give them up, wouldn’t you have done it already?)

Goodness and lovingkindness are not following like a puppy following a master.

No. Wrong.

A better translation would be, “Goodness and lovingkindness are tracking me down.”

The word “follow” means, “to run after (usually with hostile intent), chase, put to flight, follow, hunt, pursue.”

David, the shepherd and the man of war, flips this violent word on its head. Instead of enemies pursuing, now God’s goodness and lovingkindness pursue.

They’re pursuing you.

In our lives, we live in this virtuous circle of pursuit, where God pursues us, and we pursue God.

Paul Van Hoesen prayed this gorgeous blessing out of Psalm 23:6.

“Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

I declare that over you today, that goodness and lovingkindness are stalking you right now.

They’re following you around.

You don’t see them. They’re behind you. They’re in front of you. They’re next to you.

The Lord’s goodness and lovingkindness are looking out for you when you’re not even aware, listening to every heartbeat, every thought, every desire.

The Lord is following you today with goodness and lovingkindness, and his goodness and lovingkindness are following you around, waiting to spring to life when you least expect it.

And the great promise we have: we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Father, I ask you to release today an awareness of eternity.

I do a lot of deals, and the greatest investment you can make is to invest in eternity.

So we thank you, Father, for the amazing promises today, that we will dwell in your house forever.

I release that awareness over my friends today.

Goodness and lovingkindness will follow you, and you will know that you are in God’s hands forever.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

From Pursue. https://happybooks.me/pursue

If you’d like to join us in 21 days of intensive prayer, starting this Sunday, we’d be delighted to have you!

The God of love and peace will be with you,

Amy Joy

God’s workmanship. The Greek word poiema: “a thing which is made,” “a work of a creator,” “a work.” Like a blacksmith or furniture maker.

If Jesus, as a carpenter, shapes us, how wonderful.

Same verse also reads: “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (NIV).

God’s handiwork. This sounds more decorative, less utilitarian. Not a plow, but gingerbread trim on a house. Not a kitchen table, but smocking on a child’s dress. Still somewhat useful, but also decorative.

Same verse also reads: “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago” (NLT).

God’s masterpiece. A Rembrandt. A Michelangelo.

As my sister Jonelle said, “A masterpiece exists solely to give pleasure to the viewer.”

A masterpiece gives joy to the viewer.

John Burke, in Unshockable Love, said that each of us is like a Rembrandt with mud and filth on us: priceless, but dirty.

As believers, part of our job is to say, “I still see the masterpiece that’s underneath all of these layers. And I can introduce you to the Master Restorer, who can make who can restore and repair the masterpiece.”

Lord God, restore and cleanse. And after we have been restored and cleansed, may we go into the world, with your heart of love and compassion, to find the masterpieces hidden in each of your children.

Lord, send us into this broken, hurting world! May Jesus receive the full reward for his suffering. Amen.

May we live for the praise of his glory,

Amy Joy

His parents were activists against nuclear proliferation, and, as a young adult, he continued that work. Then, after he organized a rally that took a turn for the worse (a bunch of former hippies streaked around San Francisco chanting, “Nudes, not nukes!”), he was left mortified and humiliated.

The next day he faced the question: “What would you be willing to do to get rid of nuclear weapons?”

He realized: “I was willing to do anything. But there was nothing I could do.”

As he sat in a stairwell and wept from that realization, God spoke.

The world is not yours, not to save or to damn. Only serve the one whose it is.

When he sat in the stairwell, he had no religion. “I walked out of the stairwell with a wet face and a peaceful heart.”

The world is not ours to save. Serve the one whose it is. We each get to do what we’re called to do, day by day, knowing that we are serving God, and that he is in charge of what happens.

A mentor of mine once said something similar: “The need is not the call. The call is the call.”

Translated: the world is full of need. We are not responsible for all of it. We listen and do what God tells us to do in each season.

Lord God, move on your children this day. Lord, may we release to you all the excess weight that we’ve been carrying, and give it to you to carry instead.

“Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” Thank you, Jesus, that you are strong enough, and your shoulders are wide enough.

Thank you that the world is yours to save. May we serve you faithfully.

Now to him who is able to establish you in accordance with the gospel,

Amy Joy

P.S. For the practice of setting down the weight, see How to Stop Carrying Everyone’s Burdens.

They didn’t all say, “Oh—must be Judas! His miracles never did work.”

Apparently, he was a disciple in good standing at the time of Jesus’s betrayal. (Yes, writing later, John mentioned that Judas had been a thief, helping himself to their common purse (John 12:6). But at the time of Jesus’s death, apparently they didn’t know that. Or perhaps they didn’t equate some petty theft with betrayal.)

Switching stories for a moment.

In college, I was hanging out with my mentor Wendy one day. We talked about how her neighbor would come in and help himself to … something. Meals, perhaps.

I said, “Do you feel taken advantage of?”

She lived on minimal support, and I was genuinely curious—here was a fellow coming to eat her precious food!

(In full disclosure, let me now note that I ate her food every time I went over. Maybe that seemed different to me because I was invited, and not just a stray neighbor? In any case … I was 19. Don’t judge me too harshly.)

She said—and this was one of the most stunning statements I had ever heard to that point—“Oh! Maybe. But I’m not sure that the point of life is to avoid being taken advantage of. Maybe it’s okay to be taken advantage of for the gospel to advance.”

Something to think about.

Switching stories again.

I read an interview with a man who had a business failure. Afterwards he had so much self-blame. “I should have seen it coming. I missed some warning signs. I had too much faith in people. I was naive. It was kind of my own fault.”

Now I have no reason to doubt his analysis. He probably did miss some warning signs.

But think about this in light of the two stories, of Wendy and of Jesus.

Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to be taken advantage of.

Jesus kept Judas in the ranks.

Judas, the keeper of the money, who was robbing the purse.

Judas, the betrayer.

Jesus, after his resurrection, didn’t go around with the harsh narrative, “I should have seen it coming. I missed some warning signs. I had too much faith in people. I was naive. It was kind of my own fault.”

He was full of resurrection glory.

Maybe the point of life is not to go through unscathed.

Maybe it’s okay to hope for the best in people and sometimes suffer loss.

Maybe the eternal metrics measure in other ways.

Maybe we needn’t focus so much on what we’ve missed, or what was taken.

Maybe celebrate progress and breakthrough and learning and faithfulness.

Jesus, thank you for being our perfect example. Thank you for being so perfect in every way, for treating every person who came to you with perfect love. And thank you for the record that some people withstood your love, but that you still loved them. We want to be more like you. Teach us, Lord. We bless your holy name. Amen.

May you stand perfect and complete in all the will of God,

Amy

P.S. Wendy’s husband Don wrote a lovely book on the “black verses” in the gospels. Not the red verses, where Jesus teaches, but the black verses, the stage directions. How did people respond to what Jesus said? God in the Flesh—if you’re looking for a book to read, it’s a good one.

That didn’t sound overly awesome, but when I realized I wouldn’t have to give up food entirely—that three other types of fasts existed besides a complete fast—I was in. (That time, I think I sought to eat only whole foods, with freedom on Sundays.)

Looking back at my notes, I had a specific plan.

1) Fast from negativity. (The unkind thoughts that pop up.)

2) Do whatever God says in confidence and freedom.

3) Read about revival for 20 minutes a day. (Meaning: read Leonard Ravenhill’s Why Revival Tarries, which Bob really likes, but I feel is like an old-school coach from the 1950s yelling in my face. So I didn’t love it, but I made it through.)

4) Pray into a list of critical life things.

I had a list of seven, including prayer for my children with delayed reading, prayer for my vocation, prayer for restoration of relationships, prayer for my prayer life.

The Lord was at work, as he always is, and I look back on that time with fondness. (My children with delayed reading needed another 18 months of vision therapy, but they are now moving forward.)

But beyond that: I’m astonished at Bob’s thinking. He has done summer fasts for years, and considered: which ones seem to work the best? What is the optimum month? What am I seeing in the global church that might help inform my thinking?

And out of his abundance of experience, he proposed Pursue: 21 Days of Intensive Prayer at the Halftime of the Year. Short morning and evening readings and meditations. These readings, edited and updated, are now available in book form.

As I looked at each spread before we sent it to press, I kept gasping, because it turned out so well.

This year we will begin on August 2 and go to August 22.

We would love to have you join us.

For general instructions, and to follow along with the readings, order here: https://happybooks.me/pursue.

Lord Jesus, thank you that you are at work. Thank you for your goodness. Thank you for the unique gifting you give to each of us. Some have the ability to see and track trends. Some have the desire to pray.

May each of us walk with you, this day and every day. Amen.

Strengthen one another,

Amy Joy

P.S. We have a website now for Makarios Press!

If you visit, go to the “All Books” page (which isn’t a fully complete list, but getting there) … so fun to see many of our covers, all in one place! Alphabetically by title.