This is followed by a series of speeches within speeches and today we’re actually going to examine the content of these speeches. A whole cast of characters is about to emerge and by the end we’ll see how they’re connected to the entire text and particularly with one of the most well known passages of scripture today: Proverbs 31.

Spoiler alert: I don’t think it’s about an actual woman.

If you are new or want to share with a friend, here’s a link to the beginning of the series:

“My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God.” - Proverbs 2:1-5, NIV

• Proverbs 10-22 makes clear that words are a tool that can be used wisely or foolishly. And that words are an indicator of the internal condition of our heart.

• With temple construction completed, Solomon responds uses his words to bless the people, to remember God’s promises, and to praise God.

• Solomon begins to turn away from the commands of God for Israelite kings outlined in Deuteronomy 17 by employing forced labor, amassing huge amounts of gold and horses, marrying foreign women.

• In John 1, Jesus is introduced as the word. If we want our words to bring life and wisdom, they have to be anchored in God’s promises and Christ in us.

Let’s meet our two main characters in today’s readings.

Here we meet Lady Wisdom, but keep reading and you’ll run into her counterpart, sometimes call the adultress or wayward woman. We will call her Lady Folly.

These opening chapters are laced with enough literary devices to make your English teachers swoon. Wisdom and its supposed opposite, Foolishness, are given human-like qualities and presented to us as women who are calling out for people to follow them. They are both invitational, but their motivations, and sometimes their methods, are markedly different.

Read Proverbs 7:6-27

• What does it say? The father is speaking to the son about a young man being lured away by Lady Folly, the adulteress. She is loud and defiant, lurking around with malicious intent, brazen, and physically assertive. She invites him into her bedroom with persuasive words, smooth talk, the invitation seems intimate, but she actually has a throng of men in her wake. Her ways are a highway to death.

Read Proverbs 8:1-21

• What does it say? Lady Wisdom is giving a speech with a loud voice (recall that Lady Folly is also loud), making a sort of declaration at the city gates. She’s offering understanding, prudence, truth, justice, knowledge, discretion, counsel, sound judgment, understanding and power. We might summarize these as things of incredible value. She is the fuel for right governing and she is available to anyone who tries to find her.

Read Proverbs 8:22-31

• What does it say? Lady Wisdom is claiming to be the FIRST OF HIS WORKS.

• Why does this matter? Don’t miss this. This poetic language is hyperlinking back to the creation story and Lady Wisdom is supposed to remind us of Eve—the one “at his side" in verse 30 co-creating, co-ruling with God. Proverbs 2:18 comes right out with it: “She is a tree of life to those who embrace her…”

The poetic dialogue between father and son is making clear to the listener that Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly are not actually real women, but rather literary devices. Lady Wisdom reminds us of God’s Wisdom, pointing us all the way back to the garden and God’s power at work in creation, establishing for us a the way to life and inviting us to join Him in its stewardship. Duane Garrett in Holman Illustrated Bible Dictionary says this:

We remember what happens in the Garden narrative, right? Eve is enticed to go another way, to do what is right in her own eyes. She and Adam eat the fruit, thus cutting themselves from the Tree of Life. The consequences extends to all of us.

Our direct access to the Tree of Life, the center of God’s good world is cut off and the way of Lady Folly, the way to death, is blown wide open.

Let’s examine how the theme of women plays out in the life of Solomon. You’ve likely heard about his infamous harem of wives, but there are actually a few women in his story who are mentioned with some individualized detail.

• Bathsheba - his mother who reminds David that Solomon should be king. (1 Kings 1)

• Pharaoh’s Daughter - the foreign queen for whom he builds a massive palace. (1 Kings 3)

• Two Mothers - the women who both claim to be the mother of a baby and come to Solomon for a resolution. (1 Kings 3)

• Queen of Sheba - the foreign queen who hears of Solomon’s fame and our focus for today’s reading.

Read 1 Kings 10:1-9

• What does it say? A foreign Queen heard about Solomon’s fame AND she heard about his relationship to the LORD so she came to test him. She came with a “very great caravan.” When she tests him, she is overwhelmed by the depth of his knowledge and the splendor of his wealth. Her response is to praise the God of Israel.

• Why did it matter? This is not the only time royalty has come to test his wisdom. Proverbs 4:34 mentions that men of all nations came to do this, but what I particularly love is that the only one we get any detail on happens to be a woman.

Read 1 Kings 11:1-6

• Practice answering for yourself: What does it say?

• Why did it matter? Solomon’s foreign wives look a lot like Lady Folly leading him down the path of destruction. Once again, his actions demonstrate a heart led astray from the call of kings in Deuteronomy 17.

I’m struck by the sad ending to our story of Solomon—a man who spoke with God, who knew God’s laws, who ruled with more wealth and honor than any king ever before, and yet in his old age was led astray. It’s a sobering reminder that we are never too old or too experienced that we don’t need to stay connected to the vine.

I’m so excited to spend a few minutes on what scholars call the epilogue of Proverbs. I wonder what preconceived ideas you may already have about Proverbs 31? Pause for a moment to reflect and then ask God for an openness to consider how the context you now have in approaching Proverbs may change the way you approach this beautiful closing.

Start by noticing that the very first verse tells us that these are the sayings of King Lemuel and they are the things his mother taught him. Who is King Lemuel? Scholars have a few thoughts and I’ll simply share those for your consideration:

• Jewish tradition has sometimes said this is another name for Solomon which would mean it’s Bathsheba talking.

• The Septuagint (Greek translation of the Hebrew bible) has said it was God speaking, but God doesn’t have a mother so that’s a bit confusing.

• The most commonly accepted thought is that Lemeul was a foreign king from the Massa region near northern Arabia.

Read Proverbs 31:10-31

• What does it say? A woman of noble character works incredibly hard with her hands, trades, buys fields, cares for the poor and needy, sews, and wears beautiful clothing. She has a husband who is respected. She speaks wisdom and instruction. She laughs of the days ahead because her future is secure.

What’s interesting is that she never seems to sleep. She gets up while it is still dark, but her lamp also never goes out at night? This is the first clue that perhaps we’re not talking about a real woman.

• Why did it matter? Friends, this is an alphabetical acrostic poem with each line beginning with the next letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In other words, it’s poetry, not prescriptive. Women everywhere should be breathing a sigh of relief. Scholars believe alphabetical acrostic poetry was used to demonstrate completeness of thought about a certain theme and even structure in a way to help with memorization. This technique is also seen in the Psalms multiple times (25, 34, 111, 112, 119, 145, and some of Lamentations). In other words the strong woman of Proverbs 31 is not an afterthought, but a summation of wisdom meant for early Jewish readers to memorize and thus live out.

And because I can’t stop, please notice that some of her descriptors have a direct link to Lady Wisdom:

• “She is worth far more than rubies…” (v. 10)

• “Faithful instruction is on her tongue…” (v. 26)

• “She laughs at the days to come …”(v. 25)

• And at the very end, where do we find her? At the city gate receiving praise

My most favorite point about Proverbs 31 is that the word we have often heard as “virtuous” actually means something very different than purity. Chayil (pronounced khah-yil, חַיִל) is a masculine noun meaning valor, strength, efficiency. It’s used in relation to an army, horse strength particularly the legs, and even virility in some places!

We find this same word used in Ruth 3:11 when Boaz calls Ruth a woman of valor (eshet chayil), but what is particularly beautiful about his use of the word is that at the time Ruth is a single woman with no children. She is a widow, poor, and foreign. Her valor has absolutely nothing to do with her marital status, her ability to bear children, her domestic prowess, or even her status in the community.

And lastly, remember that I noted the Queen of Sheba came with a great caravan. The word used to describe her caravan, actually her army, is chayil. (H2428 for those who want to go deeper with a concordance).

Why am I laying out all of these small details? Because I believe we’ve simply gotten it wrong interpretively for far too long. We’ve held out the Proverbs 31 woman as an impossible standard for women to live up to, when in actuality this passage is not really about women at all—not any more than Lady Wisdom and Lady Folly are about actual women. What we’re seeing is a demonstration and summation of wisdom characterized as a woman displaying all the excellent qualities of wisdom at work.

Rather than live in the shadow of an unattainable example, I’d rather live into the valor given to me by God who so esteems women that His poetry reflects that in its depictions of the way to life.

When Eve was with God in the garden, she had direct access to the Tree of Life. She lived in the very fullness of God’s wisdom, but when she turned away, her access was cut off. The imagery is dense: a cherubim and a flaming sword blocking the way back in not only for Adam and Eve, but also for us.

So the question for the modern reader becomes simply how do we get back to the Tree of Life? How will we ever get back to the fullness of God’s wisdom in the garden?

In Lesson 2, we looked at John 14 when Jesus calls himself the is Way, the Truth, and the Life. He was responding to their desire to go with him and it’s so utterly relatable, isn’t it? Our hearts cry along with Thomas in John 14 when he said “Lord we don’t know where you are going so how can we know the way?” (v. 5).

In the Old Testament wisdom is personified as a woman, but in the New Testament wisdom is personified in Jesus. This is central to our understanding of how to apply the wisdom of Proverbs to our lives right now. In claiming to be the way, the truth, and the life, Jesus is inviting us to join him on the way back to the garden. This will lead us through His death, poignantly also by way of a tree, and will culminate in a city where the enthroned King will be with us once again in the redeemed and renewed creation.

The way of wisdom is the way of Jesus…all the way back to a garden.

Questions for reflection

• What voices do I hear calling out from the city gates?

• What does Jesus’s voice sound like and what invitation does He make to me?

• Who else is straining to hear Wisdom and how do I connect with them?

• What do I know now that I didn’t know before I studied Proverbs?

Reminders from Proverbs & the life of Solomon

• Wisdom is not found within us. Wisdom is given by God generously when we ask.

• The Way of wisdom is less about which path to take and more about who we are following.

• Wealth is a blessing given by God. It is a tool with both boundaries and essential functions to be stewarded with wisdom from God.

• The wise way to use words is in response to God’s movement toward us and pointing in the direction of God’s promises.

• Wisdom in Proverbs is personified as a woman with the Proverbs 31 woman held out as the summation of God’s wisdom on full display.

• Following Jesus is the way we get back to the Tree of Life.

I’m a former therapist turned writer and theology student. In the early mornings and middle minutes while kids are at school, you can find me in my home office writing about hope, grief, spiritual practices, and Biblical literacy—all things that have changed my life and light me up inside.

Today’s email is part of a monthly series I’ve been writing for over 2 years called So I Won’t Forget. It’s the overflow of a life full of the goodness of God and the simple way I practice remembering as a spiritual discipline, something I talk about a lot. It’s my most read and most personal writing.

I hope you’ll stick around!

We did it. We survived what the internet affectionately (and accurately) tells me is now called May-cember. Just typing the hyphenated made-up word makes me cringe a little.

Is it not equal parts humorous and equal parts sad that 2 months out of our calendar year are known for their hustle? Something to ponder as I stare out my window watching a red cardinal land on a hammock I haven’t once used this month.

There’s a song by one of my favorite artists Jon Guerra that is based on Matthew 6 and I kicked it around in my brain while I watched that red cardinal hop around like the totally contented creature I aspire to be:

I see the birds up in the air,

I know you feed them,

I know you care.

So won’t you teach me

How I mean more to You than them

In times of trouble

Be my help again.1

I would not categorize this month as a “time of trouble” by any means. In fact, it was mostly a time of great joy, but I did experience the full breadth of it such that, now at its close, I need to watch a few birds and remember who holds it all together.

This is May(cember) and here are the things I don’t want to forget.

#1…Forty years deep

I won’t bury the lead. I turned 40 this month.

I wrote some reflections on this milestone in my essay The Year of Whole Numbers, so I won’t belabor the significance of it,. But I also won’t breeze past it so as to ignore the spotlight or to downplay the joys of the day. In other words, there are a few things I want to remember.

Dustin kept asking me what I wanted to do for my birthday and all I could think to say was 1) I do not want to be responsible for planning something and 2) I want to spend time with people I love. Not to make it about this, but I have lived in a world where someone I love deeply was here one day and gone the next. It’s conceptual for some, but for me it has been reality and as the experts say “the body keeps the score”2 so I shall not leave things unsaid if I can possibly help it.

I decided I wanted to go on a walk with my Dad, go shopping with my Mom, and have dinner with a few people I love dearly and include the kids.

Waking up the morning of a milestone birthday and navigating a whole day where people are acknowledging you, texting you, and generally making the day about you can feel a little bit strange, unsettling even for those of us who don’t mind being in front of a group. Our kids greeted me with the darling-est (I made up a word here, but you understand…) of morning hurrahs, cards and armloads of enthusiasm. When they scurried off to school, my Dad arrived with an orchid in hand and his sneakers laced for a 5K. We both caught the bug for walking a few years ago and the shared hobby rarely makes its way to joint efforts so I asked him if he’d walk the full loop of a nearby trail and grab coffee afterwards.

I share this with humility and the understanding that there are many reading who either no longer have their father or never had him to begin with. I write my experience with tenderness in my heart and a true desire to acknowledge the utter gift I have in my father. He’s a delight. Supportive and intentional. Slow to speak and slow to become angry. Hard-working and affectionate. I have never known anyone to not love my Dad and what a sentence to be said of a person. May it be true of more of us!

Thickly in my elementary school era, my life is chock full of logistics and we rarely get one on one time. It filled my cup to have space to hear him, ask him questions, and just converse about the things happening our lives. As long as we are able-bodied enough to make the 3.2 mile loop, I hope we’ll make it a more regular thing.

Midway through the day, I decided I would tell a few friends things I love and cherish about them. Perhaps that would seem backward to them, but oh well. It wasn’t deflecting, but rather embracing the permission birthdays seem to give. To paraphrase the great Miley Cyrus, this is my party, I can do what I want. So I told one friend what a great leader he is, one friend that her presence in my life was a total answer to prayer, another that she has a pure heart, another that no one is kinder than she is, and another that she is my safe place.

The next day I skipped town with my Mom for a shopping trip. Is this real life? We spent 48 straight hours together and the conversation never lulled. This must be the backlog of all the truncated conversations we’ve had over the last 11 years since I became a mother and start-to-finish conversations became scarce. The thing is I am a rich woman in the parent-department because my Mom is as much a gift as my Dad. She’s thoughtful and generous. Dependable and uncomplicated. I enjoy being with her and we both seem to appreciate that this alone is a rarity for some mother/daughter duos in our respective life stages. Suffice it to say, we had a ball.3

I submit all of this to you with a twinge of hesitation. I never want my words, and particularly my real life, to appear to be something that it is not, namely perfect. I have known stress and frustration and disappointment. I have dabbled in anger and resentment. And I have an earned my stripes in sorrow. If you’ve read any of my work, I hope you know this to be true and you hear my heart as I sift out what is worthy of commemorating for this moment in time.

Forty years deep, I will say this: I have seen the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living and I will look for more of it in my second act.

#2…slow middle spaces

My husband calls it his “happy place.”

This is one of the more demonstrative descriptions to ever fall from his lips so please allow me translate: this place must be magic for him. It’s a 20 acre plot of land just outside the city where he and my father-in-law have started to dream, scheme, chop stuff and build ponds.

If you’re wondering how one builds a pond, you’re not alone. Just a few months ago, I also had a few questions about how this gets done. I grew up traipsing around my grandfather’s pond, but it existed long before I did so I was never privy to how it got there. Here’s a brief summary of what I’ve learned based on a couple of eyewitness accounts combined with a flurry of trail cam videos uploaded to a photo stream people keep showing me.

Step #1) Dig a really big hole.

Step #2) Wait for it to rain.

Step #3) Check it constantly.

Voilà! A pond in a matter of a few Oklahoma Spring rains! I may have left out a few details like dam construction or water flow, but generally it seems building a pond is the stuff of sand boxes and weather patterns.

A few days ago, we ventured to the land with kayaks in tow to officially inaugurate summer and to scope out the herd of goats hired to clear out the underbrush of some densely wooded spots. Yes, hired goats bound by the geofenced tags around their necks doing the Lord’s work. We invited some friends to come explore and within minutes of their arrival, 7 happy children were full-on swimming in the pond. In the moment, I thought about all the gross stuff likely floating around the newly formed water hole—guys, please don’t swim with your mouths open! Also, we did not have enough towels…or swimsuits…not one swimsuit.

In hindsight, what on earth did I expect? The sun was beginning to set over the horizon while I sat near a solo stove chatting with one of my best friends, a cold drink in hand, our kids cackling, maneuvering, digging and generally having the time of their lives nearby. Why would I ever interrupt such a delightful scene just because we didn’t bring enough towels? Forget the towels, Emily, and let the people play…

While my “happy place” eventually needs to include electricity and modern plumbing, I think I can get on board with the slow middle space between creature comforts and adventure—between my iced coffee and my muddy children.

One day they won’t want to jump head to toe in the pond. They’ll think twice about their freshly painted nails before digging them into all that red clay. They won’t want to ruin their favorite t-shirt. They’ll be more inhibited like their mom and they’ll consider the laundry more than the moment. Or maybe they won’t because they’ll remember how sweet it is to jump off a kayak with friends and play in the sun until their cheeks feel a little crisp.

Maybe they’ll teach their mom to relax a little and pay close attention. Here’s hoping they do.

#3…on character awards & cosmic thoughts

Tis’ the season for school character awards.

I remember my own elementary school’s version of this. Somehow I always walked away with something that felt boring like “industrious” or “responsible.” What 10 year old girl wants to be described as “industrious”? I have yet to meet her. I envied the kids who got “creative” or “artistic.” Somehow those words felt cooler than being the one your teacher could always count on to do the right thing—nah, I think it’s better to be the kid who’s really good at doodling.

Over the last few years our eldest has collected her own version of “industrious” because, by God’s grace, she does typically do what is expected of her at school. No complaints here, but I’ve found myself wondering a couple of times if there wasn’t something more fitting to describe her. I mean this mostly to say that I’ve wondered if the one selecting the award really and truly knew her. Did they see what she brings to a group? Could they name any her quirks and strengths? She’s rich in them.

I mean this not as a critique or as a whine. In a room full of her wildly wonderful classmates, there is much, truly MUCH, to name that is worthy of recognition. These kids bear the image of their Creator with uniqueness and beauty that makes you catch your breath. I’m so grateful my girl gets to be around them. I simply noticed a difference this year when the words of her teacher captured both her personality and her potential. A mom notices when her kid is seen—and because I noticed, I want to remember it.

“You sit there and you contemplate, you’re thinking a lot…”

Said with affection and humor: “These guys are pesky and you’re like thinking these cosmic thoughts…”

Her award: Wisdom.

Maybe for Ella, it still wasn’t “creative” or “artistic,” but I chuckled through my pride because if ever there was a child who was thinking cosmic thoughts while a whole room swirled around her, it was my firstborn. And of course, her wisdom is only blossoming, but after the months I’ve spent digging into Proverbs and the Life of Solomon, I can’t think of anything I’d rather nurture in my children than wisdom.

Her teacher wrapped up the moment by quoting Proverbs 13:20 to the class for what must have been the umpteenth time because they finished it for her: “He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a companion of fools suffers harm.” Then she pointed her finger at Ella and speaking to the class in a sort of sage, motherly way said “You want to hang out with her.”

The moment ended, but I was still processing it later that day. Popularity is not something I’m interested in seeking and I certainly won’t encourage it for my kids. If anything, in an age when popularity generally equates to putting yourself first and slandering your neighbor, we’d be wise to run from it. In this instance, her teacher meant only to counsel the students toward seeking friends who understand the things that matter, those who will sit long enough to contemplate before acting, those who are beginning to look like they possess a glimmer of God’s good wisdom. And she saw those qualities in my kid! Holy smokes, let’s keep going in this direction, shall we?

I won’t pretend like we’re not doing a boatload of character development at the Curzon house right now—please hear me when I say most emphatically, WE ARE. If anything, we needed a “W” so I preserve it here as a testimony to myself.

This long obedience in the same direction is bearing fruit and I’ll keep my eyes peeled for more of it.

Friends & readers, I’ll be taking the month of June off because our crew is headed to the UK on a grand adventure that will most assuredly be fodder for the next installation of So I Won’t Forget.

Also, my seminary class is wrapping up and I need a little sabbath. I also need time to finally finish reading Theo of Golden like everyone else.

Later this week, I’ll send you the last installment of our Stack Study on Proverbs. I hope this will be a resource for some of you over the Summer months. It’s an easy and rich step into the world of Solomon and his acclaimed wisdom.

Let me know if you’re working through it and I’ll see your inboxes next month!

Today, we get into the nitty gritty of how our words are connected to our hearts and our hearts are connected to…you guessed it…our actions. Solomon offers us a narrative that will resonate even with those of us who have never been king over an entire nation. May we learn from his example rather than setting our lives ablaze.

If you are new or want to share with a friend, here’s a link to the beginning of this series.

“My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God.” - Proverbs 2:1-5, NIV

• Proverbs 10-22 offer a shift in the poetic style to the more typical Hebrew “mashal” characterized by brief statements conveying some kind of moral truth.

• Initially, Solomon uses his wealth wisely during temple construction, but soon forgets God’s commands for how a king should rule over Israel. His wealth appears to be the root of this forgetfulness.

• Proverbs and the life of Solomon reveal that wealth can be used as a blessing and tool, but is more often a huge stumbling block for living in the Kingdom way.

• Jesus offers us hope that “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). We are invited to follow and be equipped by the Spirit to steward what we have with wisdom.

Remember these chapters take a shorter and more direct approach such that we are studying themes sprinkled through the verses, but not necessarily in any particular order. Last week, we highlighted any text referencing wealth. This week we are continuing this practice as we examine what Scripture has to say about our words.

We all use words. If we pause for a moment and think about all the ways we use them throughout our day, I think we’d be surprised by the sheer volume of words we use in a day to communicate with the world—text messages, DMs, emails, phone calls, in-person conversations and those are just the words going out of us. Who knows the volume of words we consume?

Words are arguably one of our most essential resources for daily living. Just as wealth can be used wisely for flourishing or foolishly for destruction, so it goes with our words. We know this intuitively, but let’s engage our intellect in what Proverbs has to say very clearly about the matter.

For this exercise, choose a red colored pencil and mark every reference in chapters 10-22 related to words, mouths, speech, or something similar.

Examine your red markings and begin to glean some insights regarding the function and purpose of our words. In true Proverbs fashion, you will find there is more than one way to use them. Let’s sort out of our observations…

• When words are used wisely they nourish, build up, protect, spread wisdom and knowledge, bring healing, promote instruction, give pleasure.

• When words are used foolishly they tear down, destroy, spread lies, bring violence, deceive and mislead, cause pain.

Words are a tool. Their volume and the timing of their delivery matter. If we’re speaking too much or we’re impulsively “gushing out,” we can be sure that our communication is set on a trajectory that will not lead to health. “Where words are many, sin is not absent” (v. 10:19).

Words are also an indicator and this one stings a little. How our words show up in the world reflects the internal state of affairs and this is obvious based on the number of times the text links the mouth and the heart. “The heart of the wise instructs his mouth” (v. 16:23).

Simply put, our words are like symptoms. My daughter has a few “tells” for when she’s going to be sick. First, she falls asleep abruptly which is very out of character for her. Sleeping during the day is a sure sign that puking is on the horizon. She wakes up, throws up, has a slight fever for one day, and then she’s back to normal and this cycle has repeated itself many times over the course of her 8 years. Why it matters for our little analogy here is that her symptoms are not the actual problem. The actual problem is whatever little virus is going through her small body. I know that when I am tending to her symptoms—cleaning up, covering her with a blanket, giving her Tylenol—I am not actually addressing the real problem. The real work has to happen internally by way of her young immune system. Only this kind of deep work can get to the root of the issue.

Consider the source. Because we believe Solomon to have authored, or at least heavily influenced, the collection of Proverbs, we can acknowledge that his words have been used for good—at times, even in spite of himself.

Examine the following aspects of his life with an eye for how he engages his speech. What did he say? How did he say it? Who was he listening to? What did this indicate? This reading is lengthy so I’ve linked only to the main portion of Solomon’s prayer of dedication for the Temple and the blessing he speaks over the people. For a deeper dive, consider reading the entirety of chapter 8.

Read 1 Kings 8:22-30, then verses 56-61

• What does it say?

  • With the ark now in the Temple, Solomon begins his prayer by remembering God’s promises and asking God to keep his word.

  • Solomon asks God for things. He asks God to hear his prayer and ends with a request for forgiveness.

  • Solomon stands up and speaks a blessing in a loud voice to all the people, reminding them that “not one word has failed” of all God has promised.

  • Solomon uses his blessing to remember the promises of God and to ask God for his presence, provision, and praise.

To answer this question, let’s return to the law given through Moses in Deuteronomy for how kings should rule over Israel.

Read Deuteronomy 17:18-20

The king is supposed to write and read the scrolls and to carry them with him wherever he goes. Essentially, the king is to know the words of God so intimately that when he prays and blesses the people, he echos the very words of Yahweh. God is warning future kings that if they are not anchored in His words, their hearts will be led astray.

Solomon knows that words are powerful and to use them wisely requires knowing the One from whom all wisdom flows. This is what we see him doing in 1 Kings 8 at the dedication of the Temple with hands raised reciting God’s promises back to the people.

So when do things start to change for Solomon? God appeared to Solomon twice over the course of his life to remind him to follow the Deuteronomic laws. Last week, we saw a preview of him forgetting these laws when he used his wealth to acquire horses and flood the economy with silver. For the sake of chronology in our story, God’s second appearance to Solomon happens right now—after the temple dedication. A quick survey of chapters 9 and 10 include Solomon’s foray into slave labor, intermarriage with foreign wives, and the building a huge army. Things are slipping.

Read 1 Kings 11:9-13

What does it say? Solomon’s heart has turned away from God.

While the evidence of this is seen in his outer life, the wisdom of Proverbs tell us that his heart was surely involved. Considering he has rejected the other instructions for kings in Deuteronomy, I believe its safe to assume Solomon was no longer studying the scrolls and herein lies the connection: When Solomon turned away from the words of God, his heart did also.

For the rest of Solomon’s story, we don’t hear much about his actual words, but we do see a lot about the condition of his heart. He grows old and is led astray.

Proverbs teaches us that our words are a tool and our words reveal the condition of our heart. While the early part of Solomon’s life offers a beautiful picture of how our words can echo the promises of God, his later life gives a sad glimpse into a future disconnected from God’s word and a heart ultimately led astray.

We are not too dissimilar from Solomon. There are seasons we feel anchored in the words of God, his promises ringing in our earbuds as we walk the dog around the block. And there are seasons when we barely remember to run the dishwasher, let alone practice any kind of spiritual discipline, even the ones as simple as breathing out a memorized verse here and there.

Yet there’s simply nothing more essential for the anchoring of our lives than the very words of God. Somehow knowing what He says changes what we say. We begin to consider not what we want, but what others might need from us. We ask not that He would give us what we desire, but that He’d change our hearts to desire Him. When this happens, we’re less concerned with the outcomes of our daily lives and more focused on seeing God’s vision for His kingdom to advance here on earth.

And it’s irresistible.

Jesus also said a lot about words. In fact, he was called the word in John 1:14: “The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” Once again this all starts and stops with Jesus who became flesh and for a time made His dwelling on earth—His presence ushered into our reality just as the cloud of God’s glory descended on Solomon’s finished temple. In the same way that Solomon’s prayer came from his encounter with God’s presence, our words can flow from Christ living in us. We have the gift of the Spirit available in real time, minute by minute, hour by hour, such that we don’t have to go to the temple to make sacrifices and beg God’s presence to descend. He is here with us and His words are available to us in Scripture. May we never forget.

Consider and take inventory. Use the wisdom of Proverbs to evaluate the condition of your heart by way of your words. Invite God’s presence to move in you so that your words reflect all His goodness to the world that desperately needs it.

Questions for reflection

• What am I saying and how is it coming out of me? (frequency & delivery)

• What do my words reveal about the condition of my heart?

• Who am I listening to? Do I know their words better than I know God’s words?

Reminders from Proverbs & the Life of Solomon

• Our words are a tool with functions that can build up or tear down. Our words are an indicator of the condition of our heart.

• The wise way to use words is in response to God’s movement and pointing in the direction of God’s promises.

• The words that go into us shape the words that come out of us.

• If we want our words to bring life and wisdom, they have to be anchored in God’s promises and Christ in us.

You know the feeling when you’ve put something on your metaphorical back burner and when you pick it back up, you realize how much you loved it. That happened with today’s readings. I love the way the narratives of Solomon’s complicated life weave through the heart of the Proverbs wisdom.

This lesson is on wealth—a notoriously weighty topic that I hope you approach with openness. Before you dive in, hear the prayer of King David (Solomon’s father), on this very topic and let it settle into you from the Message translation.

If you are new or want to share with a friend, here’s a link to the previous lessons.

“My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God.” - Proverbs 2:1-5, NIV

• Proverbs 3 & 4 continue the father/son dialogue in long-form, poetic speeches outlining the benefits of wisdom.

• Both chapters utilize several literary devices particularly the imagery of two ways for living—the way of Wisdom and the way of foolishness.

• Solomon’s brother, Adonijah, attempts to manipulate his way to David’s throne, but is ultimately thwarted when Bathsheba and Nathan remind the aging David of his promise to put Solomon on the throne.

• Solomon is placed on a donkey and his coronation into Jerusalem begins at the primary water source for the city, the spring of Gihon. In Hebrew, Gihon means “bursting forth”.

• The invitation to the way of Wisdom is not a call to perform, but a call to follow. The way of Wisdom is to follow the person of Jesus.

Beginning in chapter 10 of Proverbs, we see a notable shift in the rhythm and structure of the poetry. Long-form speeches are wrapped up and verses take on a shorter, more direct approach—one that is more structurally typical of Hebrew “mashal” (the Hebrew word for proverb).

We might describe style as a tell-it-like-it-is approach to conveying some kind of truth. Modern secular examples might be phrases such as “all that glitters is not gold” or “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.” In studying text of this nature the depth of understanding and personal application can be found by drawing out themes and examining them with the bigger picture in mind. This will be our approach for the next several weeks.

Today, we focus on the theme of wealth. Proverbs has a lot to say about wealth which can either make you feel incredibly uncomfortable or bring you comfort knowing the Scriptures speak to things that matter greatly to our every day lives. It all feels deeply personal, yet universally relatable. If we’re being honest with ourselves, we either have wealth or we want it. If you profess to follow Jesus, perhaps you have wrestled with any of the following questions:

What does Scripture actually teach about wealth?

How do I live wisely as a person with wealth in our world today?

How do my thoughts and feelings toward wealth need to shift?

How do I teach my kids to approach it?

In order to get grounded in what Proverbs has to teach us on this topic, we’re going to take a very simple approach. We’re going to highlight and make a list. I know, I know…revolutionary.

Snag a green colored pencil and read Proverbs 10 all the way to Proverbs 22. Any time wealth (or its synonyms like money, scales, means, inheritance) are mentioned, mark the text in green.

It seems clear that God is the source of all wealth, giving it as a blessing with a purpose in the world. Wealth alone is not necessarily evil, but in true Proverbs form, we see that it can be used wisely or foolishly.

Now, examine the verses again to see if you notice how the speaker delineates between a wise way and a foolish way to approach wealth. Make a list of the differences that looks something a bit like this:

• WISE WAY: with diligence and hard work, a perspective that prioritizes Wisdom and Fear of the LORD above the acquisition of money, honesty in all areas, generosity at the forefront, the promotion of others as one of its purposes (inheritance for children, opportunities for the poor), an effort toward slow growth versus hurried acquisition

• FOOLISH WAY: with laziness or self-focused ambition, a perspective that prioritizes acquiring wealth to gain security and power, deceit and dishonesty used to increase wealth, desiring what others have and using this to fuel acquisition (coveting = a spirit of competition), oppression of the poor to increase wealth, attaching wealth to power/status/security and therefore hoarding it, fear in losing wealth

Often the historical narratives of the Bible help us to answer the question why did it matter? In this case, the life of Solomon runs so beautifully parallel to the Proverbs that we’ll easily zoom in each week to see how the themes play out in a real life. Story really is the best teacher and Solomon offers us the perfect one as we consider how wealth mattered at that time and place. And ultimately, his story will help us see the application to our own lives, even as obvious as that may already be.

Read 1 Kings 5:1-12

• What does it say?

  • Solomon is dialoguing with Hiram king of Tyre about building the temple and fulfilling his call as David’s son.

  • He is seeking to employ Hiram’s men to cut cedar for the construction and agrees to pay whatever wages needed and work with them.

  • Hiram’s reaction is to praise God and do the work. There were peaceful relations between the two kings and they made a treaty.

Tyre is a Phoenician city-state known for its maritime activities and timber harvesting. Formerly a small island, it became a peninsula under the rule of Alexander the Great. Conveniently located on the Mediterranean Sea and with a history of being both impenetrable, Tyre is the perfect ally for Jerusalem. Both parties actually benefit—Jerusalem gets access to a seaport, Tyre gets access to all the inland trading routes.

All of this matters because it allows us to see Solomon using wealth wisely—to initiate business practices that advance kingdoms beyond his own, employ others honestly, and ultimately return praise to God for the fruits of shared labor.

Here Solomon uses his wealth to PARTNER with others, ADVANCE the kingdom, and return PRAISE to God.

If you want to see how the construction of the temple actually plays out, you can dig deeper into the following portions of the Solomon narrative. If you’re tackling this study with whatever slivers of time you can muster, I see you, I get you, I have been you…skip ahead to the Keep Going section where you’ll see Solomon make a hard left onto the foolish way.

Read 1 Kings 6:14-7:51 - Solomon Builds the Temple

Here Solomon’s wealth is on full display building and furnishing the temple with pure gold, cedar beams, high-grade stone, burnished bronze, and all by the hands of the most skilled artisans. Temple construction took 7 years. Solomon’s palace construction took 13 years.

Remember that in Week One Solomon’s dying father David reminded him to follow the commands of God and shortly after this God himself reminded Solomon to do the same thing when he gave him a discerning heart. Now we see God give this reminder 2 more times before and immediately after the construction of the temple. This repetition should be a clue to us…

Read 1 Kings 9:1-9 - Solomon Warned after Temple Construction

God appears to Solomon again and tells him what will happen if he doesn’t follow His commands. Israel will be cut off from the land, the temple will be rejected, and Israel will be made an object of ridicule among all nations. Do you hear hints of exile? This passage is dripping with them.

Read 1 Kings 10:23-29

• Practice answering for yourself the first question we use in studying the text: What does it say? Pay particular attention to the details in this section.

• Why did it matter? This context question matters greatly for our story because it perfectly demonstrates how without context, we often miss key moments in Scripture. This is about to prove BBNO—what I affectionately call “basic, but not obvious.”

Read Deuteronomy 17:14-17

What you just read is a section of the law given by God to Moses for ruling the nation of Israel, specifically guidelines for the future kings of Israel. Let’s compare and contrast what the law says and what we’ve just seen Solomon do during his rule and reign.

#1) Don’t acquire a bunch of horses vs. Solomon’s acquisition of nearly 12K horses.

#2) Don’t make anyone go back to Egypt vs. Solomon sending royal merchants to buy more horses. Where did they go to buy them? To Egypt.

#3) Don’t amass a bunch of wealth vs. Solomon’s 14K chariots. Did you catch the detail from 1 Kings that said silver had no value because there was so much of it?

#4) Don’t take a lot of wives vs. SPOILER ALERT: Solomon likes women.

Proverbs and the life of Solomon have revealed a potentially devastating truth about possessing wealth: it is often a significant stumbling block for living in the Kingdom way. Jesus carries this message forward in the story of the rich young ruler from Matthew 19. He is speaking to a young rich guy who asks Him: “What good thing must I do to get eternal life?” (v. 16). The man is asking about performance and Jesus invites him to sell all his possessions and follow. Ultimately, the man chooses not to follow because it’s too difficult for him to walk away from his wealth. In response, Jesus says to his disciples “It is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven…” (v. 23).

Solomon also walks away. We’ll see in the coming weeks that it’s simply too difficult for him to obey the commands of God rather than follow the desires of his heart and flesh.

So where does this leave us, those who are reading (and writing) this, likely living in the wealthiest country in the world in the wealthiest time in history? Where does this leave those who in our heart of hearts want to obey? Are we doomed to fail? The disciples actually ask this question for us: “Who then can be saved?” (v. 25) and Jesus’s response is very simple. He says: “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (v. 26). This verse is quoted often and usually out of context, but here Jesus reminds us that we don’t possess within ourselves what is needed to approach wealth wisely. We do, however, have access to Him who creates wealth, who gives it as a blessing, and equips us to use it in the world for the good of others and His glory.

As we examine our own relationship to wealth, here are some practical questions to ask yourself as well as some basic reminders that will help our perspectives on wealth stay grounded in Scripture.

• Am I acquiring wealth to secure my future or to be in control?

• Do I cheerfully give my money away or does it feel like an obligation?

• Am I afraid of what will happen if I’m not wealthy?

Reminders from Proverbs & the Life of Solomon

• Wealth is a blessing given by God. We don’t own our wealth.

• Wealth is a tool with both boundaries and essential functions.

• We are invited to follow and to be equipped by the Spirit to steward what we have well.

I’m a former therapist turned writer and theology student. In the early mornings and middle minutes while kids are at school, you can find me in my home office writing about hope, grief, spiritual practices, and Biblical literacy—all things that have changed my life and light me up inside.

Today’s email is part of a monthly series I’ve been writing for over 2 years called So I Won’t Forget. It’s the overflow of a life full of the goodness of God and the simple way I practice remembering as a spiritual discipline, something I talk about a lot. It’s my most read and most personal writing.

I hope you’ll stick around!

#1…on gerbils & bracing my core

I own two gerbils.

This is noteworthy only because I grew up in a home where animals were essentially not welcome. I know that sounds harsh, but I come from a long line of women who don’t like to touch animals. Dare I say, myself included. Inviting them to live in your home has generationally been a bit of a foreign concept—save the time my sister and I bought a miniature dachshund while my parents were out of town and they kept it long after we moved out. My grandmother once saved a cat who had gotten stuck in a car window and the real miracle wasn’t that the cat had been saved, but that my grandmother had been the one to do it. This story became family lore: The Time Meme Touched a Cat.

Many moons have passed and I now find myself in a home with four pets: a fish, a big, hairy golden retriever, and two gerbils—Nutmeg and Snowball, to be exact.

On the eve of our twins’ eighth birthday, we succumbed to what can only be described as relentless begging from our youngest daughter who clearly did not inherit the “it’s gross to touch animals” gene. As is often the case with mothers, I walked into PetCo that day propelled only by selfless love because, let me be clear in conveying, I had (and continue to have) zero interest in owning gerbils. Alas, we marched back to our car with two poorly assembled cardboard containers holding essentially mice that we paid money to bring into our home. I thought people paid to have mice removed from their home? Why does this feel backward?

Once home we rearranged her room to fit a cage much larger than I expected and filled it with the essentials including toilet paper rolls. Did you know they eat the cardboard from paper towels and toilet paper because their teeth never stop growing? Like beavers, people, tiny beavers who live in the upstairs of my house. File this under things I never thought would be true about me: Gerbil owner. Mother of twins.

Later that night I made the twins take a picture with me—one I’ve been taking since the day they were born. With a fifty pound kid on each hip, I had to bend my knees and brace my core just to hold them. I certainly couldn’t have walked up and down the stairs with them in tow like I used to. I went to bed looking at old pictures of them on the day they entered the world, both at just four pounds each, the tiniest babies I had ever seen. Eight years ago, this same core was effectively ripped wide open so that those two babies could enter the world and change the course of history forever. I’ll never get over the miracle—their lives, the fact that my core went back together, all of it.

I marvel at their lives in the same way I marvel at those two little gerbils upstairs—things I never thought would be true of me and yet things that have settled into the reality of my life. I think my takeaway this year is that sometimes we learn to steady ourselves, to brace our core and hold rightly the things we’ve been given to steward, but often this wisdom comes on the heels of tremendous surprise, delight, and a healthy dose of motherly surrender. This month I found all of that at the strange intersection of kids birthdays and pet ownership.

Here’s to Nutmeg and Snowball, may their surprises be contained to their cage and may they continue to bring us delight—but like a normal gerbil-amount of it. Let’s not get too crazy.

#2…singing in public

There are only a few times in my life that I have sung in public with a microphone. One of them was my senior year of high school when I played Sandy in Grease. You read that correctly—yours truly was Sandra Dee, circa 2004. To be honest, I had almost no business being cast in that role, but at the time I was the only blonde girl in the theater production class and I suppose that qualified me more than my actual singing abilities.

These days I keep my singing to strictly low stakes environments and if you lived in my home or rode in my car, you would know that to be true. The older I get, the more I marvel at people who have the ability to perform or share an art form publicly. I suppose that’s what writing is although with writing I can hide behind my computer and I can edit. In my mind, there is really nothing more vulnerable than singing in front of an audience.

And that is exactly what my son did this past week.

He is the bravest kid I know, full of a confidence tempered by a humility I hope he never loses. For the last six months, he’s been taking ukulele lessons. It’s a totally delightful instrument and perfect for an eight-year-old trying to make his mom swoon over his future guitar-playing skills. For the recital this year, he decided he would both pluck and strum his song. But in order to strum, he would have to use his voice to sing the melody—something he, without hesitation, decided was a perfectly suitable thing to do.

This boy sings all over our house, particularly in the bathroom because…well…acoustics and time. He spent the week leading up to the recital bellowing out the words to “Everybody Loves Saturday Night,” a simple song that will forever be embedded in the brains of the other four Curzons who live here and use the same bathrooms.

On the night of the recital, he was the only performer to play an instrument while singing along and I was so proud of him. Sure, there were a couple of notes that maybe fell a bit sharp, but overall that kid marched up to the front, did his thing, and bowed ever so quickly as he ran over to sit back down. One of my favorite things about being a parent is knowing intimately the subtleties of your own child’s facial expressions. His little grin was the perfect blend of relief, pride, and the twinkle of a new neuropathway forming to say I can do hard things.

It left me wondering today about whether my face ever tells the story of the hard things I have done or continue to do: parenting, seminary, generally trying to be a kind and healthy human. I don’t have to tell you, dear reader, that it’s hard work out there being a adult, let alone one who is hoping to mature in the ways of Jesus and embrace hardship as discipline. I suppose that’s why sabbath has been at the forefront of my mind lately. I need to rest in order to do hard things.

And so the queue I’m taking from my kid this weekend is not necessarily singing in public, but rather embracing a little bit of rest so that come Monday I can do hard things again.

Maybe this is why…🎵 Everybody Loves Saturday Night 🎵…

#3…Lectio Divina

I am writing this to remember a spiritual practice that is forming me right now—and to remind “Future Emily” that she has a repertoire of things to draw from depending on the season.

Lectio Divina is an ancient, contemplative Benedictine practice used for centuries as a form of spiritual reading. For most of my life, I’ve approached Scripture through study—digging into context, language, translations—and this is far and away my favorite way to engage my imagination and intellect spiritually. I love to understand how the pieces fit into the whole and God has used this deep work to form me in ways still rippling effect in my daily life.

But my life also includes groceries and laundry and school drop-offs and friendships that need nurturing and bodies that need moving and floors that need mopping and you get the idea because you live one too. Sometimes in-depth study can’t squeeze its way onto the plate like it used to when my only responsibility was maybe going to class on time.

As I’ve leaned further into the Anglican tradition and into my seminary work thus far, I’ve discovered some contemplative practices that have opened a “side door” into spiritual formation—the most recent of which is Lectio Divina.

In a recent class cohort, we walked through the process in small groups and it essentially looked like this:

Someone read a passage of Scripture 4 times.

Each time followed by 2 eternally long minutes of silence.

Resist the urge to interpret or analyze.

Invite the Spirit to draw out a word or phrase. Listen and reflect and receive.

For those of us who grew up in the Bible Belt in the late 90s and early 2000s, the word “meditation” might carry some long-buried negative connotation not too dissimilar from that one time you tried yoga and weren’t sure if your mother would approve. I’m only slightly kidding. In general, there was a time in our Western evangelical traditions when mediation or the idea of listening, rather than studying inductively, sounded a bit too “woo-woo” for comfort.

The reality is that the practice of mediation has been embedded in global Christian traditions for centuries and I can’t help but wonder if some of us have been missing out.

Perhaps in this season, contemplative prayer and meditation is exactly what I need. In ways almost too innumerable to count, the way of contemplation is wildly counterintuitive to the inertia of my inner and outer life. I know someone reading this can relate. In these slower postures, I still find the Scriptures to be ripe with wisdom. I can spend an entire day dwelling on two words from a verse in Colossians and feel connected to the work of God even while I walk through a seemingly relentless to-do list.

This may be a totally foreign concept to you, or you may be among the wealth of writers and readers who have been practicing this for a decade. Wherever you land, I hope you might consider trying on something contemplative like Lectio Divina and seeing how it feels—especially if you find yourself in an overflowing season of life.

The Spirit is there, moving and speaking—this is our reminder to slow down and listen.

So many of you responded kindly to my most recent essay The Year of Whole Numbers. I can’t tell you have meaningful it is to hear back from readers. Some of you told me over coffee and some of you commented from another part of the country. However you responded, I wanted to express my gratitude and my heart’s desire that this work would play some small part in turning your thoughts and affections toward the God who speaks through writing.

That being said, I owe you something: the last half of our Stack Study on Proverbs and I’ve decided to release all of that via email on May 14th.

There, I said it, so now I have a deadline.

I will be releasing each lesson via Substack only as those get through final edits so if you’re eager to do something with them, you can watch for those to roll out in-app. Otherwise, subscribers will get the full thing in their inbox on May 14th.

You can learn more about the publication and podcast here.

Today’s post is a one-off from my normal writing because of the many milestones on the calendar of my 2026. You’ll understand as you read along.

Thanks for being here and please reach out if you’d like to connect…E

No one is more surprised than me to know that for the past month I have been intermittently reading about the history of whole numbers. I cannot think of anything more boring than reading about the history of math, so let me say from the get-go that any paragraphs containing such material will be brief insomuch as they serve the greater point of this essay.

Forgive me, some who I love dearly, but math is the worst. I’ve always known this felt this way. I remember defiantly announcing that I was going to throw away my graphing calculator the minute I finished my one required math class in undergrad— much to the chagrin of my parents who had shelled out a whooping $100 for it. Why were they so expensive? Certain to my very bones that I would never be warming the seat of a math class again, I ran out of the Sarkeys building at the University of Oklahoma and never looked back.1

In many ways, my instincts were right. The copious amounts of 2nd grade math I’ve corrected over the last year and that one time I tried to split a recipe are basically the only times I’ve used math in the last 20 years. The lesson here is pick a major that requires the least amount of the subject you hate the most.2

Of math and milestones

Last week I started helping plan my Dad’s 70th birthday and subsequently followed a rabbit hole that dead-ended with googling things like “history of whole numbers.” I wondered about the sociological and cultural origins of milestones such as this. Why are they such a big deal to us, not in a logistical sense, but in an emotional one? What is it about zero-ending numbers that stir us up and leave us feeling all manner of things like nostalgia, inspiration, joy, and even sadness? How can such a seemingly innocuous thing like a number hold such sway over our lived experiences?

These were (and still are) earnest and lingering questions leading me to indulge us all in a brief history of the whole number…stay with me, please.

The natural number likely existed before recorded history. While there is some evidence of counting systems dating back to the Ancient Babylonian Empire, it is the Greek philosophers who get credit for numbers, the Pythagoreans actually.3 Amid a world of mysticism and a flurry of other religiously confusing constructs, this group sought to make sense of their fragmented world through their infamous Pythagorean theorem (a² + b² = c²). Their motto became “all is number” and it ultimately shifted the world from token-based counting to what the smart people call abstract numeration.4

The famed thinker Aristotle argued in the 4th century BCE that “the whole is more than the sum of its parts,” a concept that later became known as holism.5 He was followed by the father of geometry Euclid, a Greek mathematician who took the Pythagoreans and holism one step further by asserting that numbers were not just quantities, but a collection of distinct and unified parts.6 Fast forward to the 16th century and we get the integer, a Latin word meaning “complete” or “whole.” Algebraists used integers to define numbers that were not fractions or decimals, but ones that hold completely all the numbers that came before.

Said another way, a milestone birthday such as 70 represents more than the onset of a 70th year around the sun. It marks the collection of all the life lived in years 1 through 69, all the little fragments of mornings and evenings and work and family and joy and sorrow and longing and waiting and wrestling and celebrating. What makes the number whole is actually the accumulated weight of all that went before it.

Can it be true that mathematics is how 2000 years ago the great thinkers of the world attempted to make sense of the intangible, to articulate our innate sense that what has gone before matters and somehow informs the present?

Of milestones and meaning

In a few weeks I turn 40 and I’ve been thinking about when my parents turned 40. I would have been about 10 years old and squarely in between the ages of my kids now. My recreational soccer career was about to take off and middle school loomed largely like the precipice on which all of life might hinge. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I can still picture a gift bag with a bit about being “over the hill” on the front and curiously studying it—the idea of aging so foreign to me that the joke landed only for its strangeness and not for its humor.

Today the most honest thing I can say about turning 40 is that I’m looking forward to it. I don’t dread the milestone, or aging in general, but I do feel the heaviness of it—not in a burdensome way because life is rich and good, but in a way that says I’ve lived long enough now to consider some things. Or perhaps in a mathematical sense, I finally have some accumulated weight.

Just this week I was reminded in a study on James that the word “consider” in the original Greek means not just to think topically about something, but to use the mind to “perceive, understand, and behold.”7 To consider is to take your time and really mull things over, to look at them from all the angles and in the fullest context. This small step of intentionality becomes a process that informs our remembering and narrates the redemptive arch of our lives.

I think this is what James was getting at when he asked the church to consider hardship as joy. He’d didn’t say be joyful no matter what. He said consider how the story of your life in the hands of a good and gracious God might be shaping you into a more mature person.

And so on the eve of my birthday, in this strange time we call 2026, let me take a moment to consider a few of the truths that have shaped me thus far…

• Much of my college days are fuzzy memories now, but the greatest thing to come out of those years is friendship. As the proverb goes, there is, in fact, a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

• Many of the things I took very seriously have proven to be not that significant, but the taking of things seriously is a developmental process that probably can’t be skipped. My filter for significance is stronger now.

• Love grows over time and there’s nothing like it. This is true of marriage and motherhood and really all manner of relationships. Give me deep roots over rushed intensity any day.

• Nothing refines like parenthood. All roads to maturity somehow lead back to the simple work of raising humans. It’s the most full-bodied experience of my life and since I’m still in the thick of it, I try to stay hydrated.

• Mornings are sacred time and cultivating this rhythm has changed me into a forever early riser. Also, I am a sheep dog who must exercise in order to sleep.

• I think the key to aging well might be to stay curious, to continually engage my intellect in learning about something, namely theology and the life of faith. The long game is the only game.

• Fashion will truly cycle back on itself. Oh the trends I’ve tried! In my second act I plan to embrace classic pieces like the fancy grandma I aspire to be.

• Grief is wild and vicious, but it holds no candle to hope. These truths will hold hands for all my life.

Of meaning and hope

Ten years ago this year, we buried my sister.

I used to hate it when people would tell me things would get better with time. To tell someone in the smack middle of searing loss that their pain will get better is as if to say the loss doesn’t matter. And of course, that’s not the intent, but it is often the result and, if I’m being frank, the catalyst for quite a lot of fear. Fear that what is lost will be forgotten. Fear that what is lost was not as precious as you may have thought. Fear that your wrecked life will always need a bandaid.

A decade later, I now know that it’s actually the fear that will get better and the loss, to my great and delicate surprise, will just get different.

I still deeply miss my sister. Without an ounce of hyperbole, I can say that I think about her every day. The loss is still there and its sting has changed only in so much as I have gotten more adept at allowing it to seep through the cracks of every day life in a less startling way. With time now under my grieving belt, the loss has become more robust, mature even, aging along with the lines on my face.

Many of you reading know exactly what I’m trying to articulate. You have not traded your mourning for dancing entirely, not yet anyway, but you have loosened your grip on the mourning such that you can reach for things you hadn’t known were available.

A deeper love.

A greater empathy.

A calling.

A hope of all hopes.

These last 10 years have taught me the art of knowing when to hold tightly and when to open my hands. In the process I became the proud owner of a hope so resolute it can anchor a life in mystery. I am sure from my head to my heart and all the way down to my toes that Christ will redeem and renew all of creation and I will one day embrace my sister who professed Him as Lord.

On the milestone of this great loss, I can’t help but consider, just as James counseled that I do, what the state of my hope might be had it not been for the wrestling of the last decade.

Of hope and the gift of right now

Today is Thursday. The sun is shining and my kids are at school. I had an appointment and then ran a few errands before sitting here to write. This fragment of my life, as good as it has been, does not erase all the Thursdays that came before, but sits squarely in the context of a week, month, and years that tell the story of my life.

In his book How To Inhabit Time, one of my favorite authors James K.A. Smith writes:

“God’s sanctifying presence in my life doesn’t erase what’s gone before. Indeed, what God has prepared for me depends on what has gone before.”8

Smith observes that our present cannot define us on its own. We can’t simply live for today as if today didn’t come on the heels of a million yesterdays. I suppose that would make us much like the character Dory from Finding Nemo swimming into a shiver of sharks—”Hey, look! Balloons! It’s a party!”

What I think Smith is getting at is that we cannot constantly look backward and long for or bemoan the past. We also can’t look to an ephemeral future and wish away our very present lives. Instead we must learn to embrace the gift of our lives right now by seeing the fragments of our ordinary days in context—at the milestones, whole numbers, macro level—such that we become people defined not by what has happened to us, but by what we hope for. Or as James puts it, we persevere in cooperation with the Spirit of God until maturity bursts on the scene like a full blown flower.

Perhaps the thing about milestones that resonates so much is that from their vantage point we start to see the arch of a really good story, the one we’re living still 10, 40, and eventually even 70 years later. We don’t know what is around the corner, but we do know the ending and on this we can build a life.

Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

And by God’s grace, here’s to the next 40 years.

This is (the ides of) March and here are the things I don’t want to forget.

#1…when you don’t have a brother

I did not grow up with brothers.

In fact, the closest thing I had to a brother was the boy across the street who I now call my husband. My father is a gentle man and one who lived well with a house full of rowdy women. I still remember one Sunday morning as a teenager, in what can only be described as my glitter-as-eye-shadow era, I came bouncing down the hallway with purple lipstick freshly lathered on my lips only to walk straight into my Dad who had just donned a crisp white oxford shirt. My purple lipstick left a precise imprint on the pocket and it was immediately clear that there would be no salvaging things.

I take a bit of delight in the fact that my son is living a similar experience. He has a mother who is by most measures into girlie things—although I have toned down the glitter—and God blessed him with not one, but two sisters. I tell him often that it takes a special kind of man to have multiple sisters, not many are cut out for it. He smiles knowingly and I’m reminded that he is much like his grandfather in both kindness and patience.

But there are times I wonder what it would be like for him to have a brother.1

Over spring break, we traveled with some dear friends who have an opposite family makeup—mostly boys and one sister. We love this family so much and time with them is a breeze. Much of the weekend I spent smiling to myself over the fact that for once in his life, my son was not outnumbered. And oh the ways he embraced it wholeheartedly! Roller coasters, bare chests, basketball, mini-golf, stinky laundry all over the floor, and nearly constant eating. He shared a room with his buddy and one evening as I was helping tidy things up, I noticed they had hung their wide-brimmed golf hats on the lamps of their respective night stands in a sort of synchronous way—a subtle, but adorable gesture.

It’s a funny thing to watch your kids grow and wonder about how your family dynamic is shaping them. What aspects of who they are were born when they came squealing out of the womb and what aspects are being formed as they sit in the middle seat to keep their sisters from fighting on the way to the grocery store? So much of my son’s temperament is perfectly matched for having sisters and I like to think God had this in mind as He formed him. There may be a time he resents his lot in this family of mostly girls, but I do hope he’ll come to wear it as a badge of honor. One that my husband is currently training for on the precipice of raising teenage girls and one my father wears like a medal of honor from his years in the trenches.

If nothing else, he could not be among a more esteemed bunch in my eyes.

#2…a helluva Costco run

I have a love/hate relationship with Costco.

Sometimes it’s sort of exciting to come home with a van load as if I am some kind of pioneer mother coming back to the fort with a big loot. I holler to my kids to come out and help me unload the wagon like I’ve been gone for days trading goods the next town over.

But sadly it’s usually more of a modern day ordeal that takes no less than 2 hours, plus 30 minutes of driving and 58 trips back and forth between my kitchen and the trunk of my car. Because I bemoan going, I like to drag out time in between trips as long as possible so as to make subsequent Costco trips that much more logistically complicated. I have never spent less than $500 and if that gives you sticker shock, let me remind you that I have 3 elementary aged kids who insist on eating every day.

Monday mornings at Costco are about as good as it gets. I don’t want to brag, but I am an executive member. It turns out if you spend enough money, it cues the cashier to ask you about an executive membership and I was asked every single time for a year until the lady behind me in line at Christmas said “oh honey, just do it…” So I did and every time I walk in an hour before it opens to shop in peace I think about that woman with great affection.

On my most recent pilgrimage, the man posted at the exit took my receipt and started the performative counting they do to ensure you aren’t sneaking by with an extra bag of 500 tortillas. He was less rushed this day because it was a unicorn Monday and midway through his counting, he shook his head, smiled and said “You did a number….no, you did a helluva number.” Then he chuckled so loudly it echoed against the warehouse walls. I suppose I could have taken offense at his reaction to my cart, but instead he had me giggling the whole way through the parking lot.

That’s right sir, I did do a helluva number today at Costco and frankly, I needed someone to name it.

Sometimes the drudgery of Mondays is enough to ruin a whole week, then we layer on the heavy loads we’re all pushing around hoping to gain momentum, and it can sour a whole season. Most of the time we can’t shirk our responsibilities (the kids have to eat, remember?) so I wonder if what we actually need is some counterweight, something to balance the heaviness in the form of laughter and being seen by a stranger. The Costco employee wasn’t mocking me, he was validating me with a shaking head that came from what I can only imagine to be a place of knowing. I bet he’s pushed a cart or two in his day.

So if nothing else, let people acknowledge your load, try to name theirs, laugh a little, and for goodness sakes, get yourself an executive membership.2

#3…a letter to the editor

One of the gifts of growing older, or perhaps realities, is the ability to see things through adult eyes that you once only saw with a childlike sort of wonder. Turning 40 is but a breath around the corner for me and I’ve lately been thinking about my grandparents, wondering about their lives as real people rather than the heroic figures of my childhood. Most prominent among them is my Grandad who died when I was coming of age in the early years of college and who looms largely (and ever so fondly) in my imagination as a little girl.

I recently drove back to the town where he lived his entire life and where as little girls my sister and I would trek into pastures unknown with our cousins—a bunch of city kids getting a taste of country life and relishing the freedom that came with galavanting around without parental supervision.

Among the hallowed section line roads of Creek County, my Grandad served his community as teacher, principal, superintendent, farmer, realtor, and eventually for a brief stint, as State Representative. I remember campaigning wearing a red t-shirt that said “Vote for RC Lester, my Grandad” and passing out RC Cola to the locals. I suppose it tracks that the thing I remember most is the soda and the t-shirt rather than the fact that my grandfather was respected and beloved by his community such that he beat out the incumbent on his first bid for office.

Recently, I stumbled upon a local newspaper article from 2005 among a pile of other nostalgic things being organized at my parent’s house. It caught my eye because it had obviously been laid out to read and the opening line to this Letter to the Editor said “Dear Editor, RC Lester wore many hats.” A entire half page had been devoted to espousing not so much the accomplishments of my grandfather, although those were certainly mentioned, but more so his character as a friend and educator. Grandad died rather swiftly to pancreatic cancer in 2005 and this letter had obviously been written with great care by a longtime family friend who had known him both personally and professionally.

I smiled through tears later that night as I read the article aloud to my husband and oldest daughter, remembering some of his familiar and timeless mannerisms, ones that I see reflected in my own father now and find so utterly endearing. The beauty in discovering this gem of an article is that it confirmed for adult Emily what little girl Emily knew to be true of her grandfather. That he was kind and serious and uncomplicated and sincere and, most of all, lion-hearted.

It is a strange thing to build a life where people most dear to you are not known by those who were once most dear to you. I wish my children could know Grandad, that they could experience him waiting at the gate for us to pull up wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, hear him whistle as the cattle come running up the pasture because they know his voice, or watch him mercy kill a turtle who swallowed a fishing hook like it’s just a regular Tuesday.

I suppose this will always be one of the great mysteries of the Kingdom to come. Will we get to know, really know, those who shaped our lives before they started? Will we one day hug their necks in a knowing sort of way and will their eyes see the story of our lives as we get to reflect on theirs?

I’m banking on it and in the mean time, I’ll try my best not to forget.

To my dear WHTH regulars, I feel like I have been somewhat MIA this semester and I attribute that almost entirely to seminary classes. I recently finished a New Testament class and it was equal parts drinking from a fire hose, equal parts wonderful. I hope you’ll stay with me, read, please do comment, and share with friends as you’re able.

I have a one-off article to share hopefully next week that I’ve been painstakingly distracted by and then plan to finish up the study on Proverbs before the Summer!

I’m a former therapist turned writer and theology student. In the early mornings and middle minutes while kids are at school, you can find me in my home office writing about hope, grief, spiritual practices, and Biblical literacy—all things that have changed my life and light me up inside. Today’s email is part of a monthly series I’ve been writing for over 2 years called So I Won’t Forget. It’s the overflow of a life full of the goodness of God and the simple way I practice remembering as a spiritual discipline, something I talk about a lot. It’s my most read and most personal writing.

I hope you’ll stick around!

What am I supposed to do with you, February? The more iterations of So I Won’t Forget I churn out over the years, the more I notice the subtleties of the seasons. More than any other month, February is somehow both confusingly too short and requiring of more grit. Dare I say that February is littered with more holding out for the next thing than even late August?1 I think it does and I’m bothered by it every year as I sit to write these essays.

This is likely the reason you’re receiving February’s edition in early March. That and the paper I had to write for seminary last week that conjured up many long-buried feelings of paper-writing dread and hovered squarely on my shoulders until late Thursday when I finally pressed “submit.”

I wonder what long-buried feelings tried to sneak through the cracks of your exterior this potentially grueling or boring February? Or what sat on your shoulders so comfortably, you’re just now beginning to notice it was heavy after all? Whatever the case for you, I wonder if you might practice a little remembering this month. Find a quiet space, take a deep breath with your hands laid open in your lap, and ask God to bring to the forefront of your mind the moments when you may have missed His goodness. By way of the Spirit, I’m confident you’ll find them.

Here are mine. This is February and these are the things I don’t want to forget.

#1…A million questions with a side of bad breath

There’s a speed by which my youngest daughter navigates the world. We used to joke that she had an on/off switch. She was either moving her body or she was asleep, no in between. As she’s grown from toddler to full-blown kid, her busyness has developed a bit more nuance, as personalities have a tendency to do. She can melt your heart with a fierce running to jumping hug and turn right around to incite a riot over where everyone is sitting at the dinner table. Meek she is not and I say that with a sort of womanly pride.

Give me all the strong daughters.

Except no one warns you that the real work of raising strong daughters is cultivating your own layer of thick skin because their strength comes with a side of brutal honesty. One that lacks the scaffolding of age and the skill of what professional communicators call “the compliment sandwich.” That’s right, no free compliments unless they want to borrow something from your closet, look at your phone, or want you to stop for a slushie on the way home from school.

Last week, after spending the majority of the my time hyper-focused on a seminary paper, which is code for I left it all on the field intellectually-speaking, I solidly switched to mom-mode and spent the remainder of my afternoon chasing everyone around the house. Sometimes literally, but more metaphorically. I had almost nothing left to give when my youngest found me in the fleeting quiet moment of unloading the dishwasher and fired off a round of questions that went something like this:

Her: Can I have a snack?

Me: What have you had already?

Her: I don’t know. Can you see if so and so wants to play?

Me: Get something from the pantry, no candy please. They aren’t home from school yet.

Her: Can I have a popsicle? Can you see if so and so wants to play? Watch this! (Cartwheels across living room)

Me: I can text their mom. No popsicle, get something from the pantry.

Her: What’s for dinner? Can we have mac and cheese? Will you play with me?

Me: Chicken sausage and veggies. You had mac and cheese for lunch, remember?

Her: Uuuuuuggggghhhhh, there’s nothing to do. Will you play with me? I’m going outside. Anyway, did you brush your teeth today?

If I were to re-write the story of that conversation, I might have her say something along the lines of “Mom, I see you working really hard this week. Why don’t you finish unloading the dishwasher while I grab a string cheese independently from the refrigerator? I’ll even shut the door when I’m done. I’m headed outside to peacefully invite my siblings to play! Love you, Mom!”

But that is a world I will never live in and the reality is I’m not sure I actually want to. It’s the real zingers in life—the ones that do occasionally feel like a kick when you’re already down—that remind us we’re not machines and neither are the people who live in our homes. This essay is not going the way of machine critique, but it is a plug for the irreplaceable resource that is our humanity, namely the humanity of our children who offer to us the kind of refining you can’t buy in a store or ask a computer to generate.

Had I brushed my teeth that day? Yes, but in truth it had been a solid 10 hours and I most certainly had bad breath. Did I need to be reminded in that exact moment? Who’s to say other than the one whose lack of filter keeps me humble?

No one could have delivered the feedback quite like her.

#2…Out of the depths of Flu B

Speaking of humanity, a moment of silence for the flu that raged war on my body and the bodies of many people I love this past month. I hate being sick. And sure, the obvious response is to say no one likes being sick, but please hear me when I say I truly haaaaattttteee being sick. I’ve spent years cultivating an attitude of defiance toward the whole notion of needing to cancel my plans and do the annoying work of convalescing. I have an advanced degree in “it’s probably just allergies…” and somewhere out there I have a husband reading this and rolling his eyes.

Alas, February got the better of me and I’m here to report it was not just allergies. It was Flu B and it kicked my butt. I tumbled head first into the hazy world of intermittent naps and sweaty sheets and wondering what time it was and whether the sun was shining. I had a post-viral headache for days long after I resolved enough was enough and proceeded with my regular life in spite of feeling like I’d been run over.

As I type this I’m reminded of the many I know who suffer from chronic pain—my sister was one of them—and I have zero room to talk. My body managed the viral onslaught as is customary of a healthy immune system so I will not pretend to hold my two weeks of angst up as a memoir on suffering. But I did walk away with a slightly changed perspective on what it looks like to slowly exhale my need for care from others. That’s what it felt like—a slow exhale.

Breathe in: There’s so much I need to do.

Breathe out: Yet all my needs are met.

Isn’t that the great irony of being a person safe within the Kingdom of God? There is truly much to be done, a great work ready for our participation, yet it is simultaneously a work headed in the same redeemed direction whether we hop on board or not.

I think the grace of the occasional sickness might be this exact reminder. At least, it was for me this month and so my earbuds are attuned to the words of this song while I go about my day free from a headache, yet keenly aware of my need for God to hold my whole life, physical body and all, together in the center of His love.

#3…Sideline siblings & another note on basketball

We attended approximately 438 basketball games this season. That’s a rough estimate based largely on feelings rather than actual data (my kind of math) and it translated to a ton of what I affectionately call sideline sibling activities. I know this rings true for all younger siblings and perhaps a few oldest who aren’t yet able to drive or stay home alone. We have all of that going on at our house so I like to think we’ve mastered the art of grabbing shoes, audiobooks, doodle pages, and a snack while toppling into a van already littered with the things we just shoved into our tiny, random bags.

Toward the end of the season I started to pay closer attention to what was happening behind all the literal and logistical noise. Here are a few things I observed…

• Makeshift pickleball using an old ball and a rope.

• 4 boys piled in closely over the pages of a Space book.

• A million trips to the bathroom with friends. No one is more knowledgeable about rural Oklahoma upper elementary bathrooms than my kids.

• Collaborative doodling.

• Smacking.

• Sharing of Doritos—sadly the most healthy snack choice available. I’ll never understand the nacho cheese.

• Baby doting of the most precious kind. It’s magical to be only 7 and think you’re the cool older kid.

• Yelling and then asking why we’re yelling.

• Shared celebration and shared disappointment.

• Learning each others’ names and then remembering them the following week.

Last week I listened to the most incredible podcast episode at the behest of my husband and one our dear friends. It’s an interview with Ben Sasse, an impressively credentialed former senator and university president who recently announced a terminal pancreatic cancer diagnosis at age 53. I’ll not be able to do justice to the episode by written summary, but suffice it to say this one will make you feel things. When reflecting on his ongoing work of “redeeming the time,” Sasse said this: “You can play a lot of basketball in the last 60 seconds…” I spent all week thinking about it and I’ve come to the conclusion that if that’s not true, what are we even doing?

This season of sporting for our young family has been full to the brim. I can’t say I wouldn’t do a few things differently because I would. I’d holler less about getting in the car quickly and I’d care much less about the outcomes of games with scores even now I can’t remember. But I can say we played a lot of basketball, the fullest kind, the real kind that included sidelines and siblings and snacks and sometimes questioning everything. This ball and hoop game at its worst develops a little grit and at its best teaches us how to live. I know what sounds hyperbolic, but I really believe it. Listen to Ben Sasse put a bow on it and tell me I’m wrong. Don’t forget tissues.

As always, I get to the end of these and feel profoundly grateful to anyone reading to the very end. Please don’t stop here though. I have two asks:

1) Take what you see here and try your own hand at it. Maybe writing is not your jam, but I contend even the non-writers can make remembering a discipline. Like all worthy habits, the results are in the long haul so you should probably get started…do you have a journal nearby?

2) Consider reading through my guide for studying Proverbs. I’m rolling it out over the entire semester so you can take what you see and go slowly…no rush, no pressure, just a resource for you that I’ll keep offering for free!

It’s not mine because no one wants to see that (and because you’re reading what I do to be artsy). It’s the work a 16th century French artist who appears to have lived a rather short life, but who must have read closely what I hope you’re about to read.

Since art is meant to be experienced rather than explained, I’ll resist the urge to dissect this work for you and rather hope you’ll read, contemplate, and think curiously about the Way of Wisdom in Proverbs and the life of King Solomon.

Today’s lesson includes a quick recap, a reading from Proverbs, and the story of Solomon’s anointing as king. If you are new or want to share with a friend, here’s a link to the first lesson.

• Proverbs is Hebrew poetry and most scholars credit its authorship to Solomon (outside of the last 2 chapters, more to come on this).

• Chokmah is the Hebrew word for wisdom and it means “skill.” Biblical wisdom combines mental activities and practical expression.

• Wisdom for a flourishing life comes as a gift from God. It is not found within us.

• From the Context Matters section, God promises David that someone from his line will always be on the throne (Davidic Covenant).

• Young Solomon asks God for wisdom and God gives it to him along with riches and honor.

In this lesson, we’re zooming in on some beautiful imagery in Proverbs poetry and connecting it to a pivotal scene in the life of Solomon. The first 9 chapters of Proverbs are long-form poems that contain a series of speeches, even speeches within the speeches, and they are structured as a dialogue between a father and sons. Perhaps the father is Solomon speaking to his literal sons, but more likely these are the words of Solomon recorded by a scribe and preserved for his descendants and ultimately all of Israel. You’ll notice the sections alternate between these father/son exchanges and the first glimpses of Wisdom personified.

As what you might ask? A woman, of course.

Wisdom calls aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the public squares; at the head of the noisy streets she cries out, in the gateways of the city she makes her speech. (Proverbs 1:20-21, NIV)

Read Proverbs 3:1-10 - The Benefits of Wisdom

What does it say? Easily overlooked in these verses is a series of if/then statements. Look closely and you will find that the father seems to be saying if you do this, then you will get this. Before we consider our reaction to these claims, let’s make a list. Remember that this section is only about observing what the text says, not jumping to conclusions or reactions.

• IF: remember teachings and keep commands, THEN: prolonged life and prosperity

• IF: loving and faithful always, THEN: a good reputation with God and man

• IF: trust God and not yourself, acknowledge his authority, THEN: straight paths

• IF: fear the LORD, THEN: a healthy body

• IF: honor God with wealth, THEN: more wealth

Read Proverbs 4:10-19 - Two Paths

What does it say? The pattern is continued and incorporates imagery of a path or way. The father will lead along straight paths (v. 11). The son will walk and run without stumbling (v. 12). There are actually two paths, one good and one evil, so we’re instructed to avoid the evil path lest we intersect with violence and destruction (vv. 16-17). And most importantly, there seems to be two people leading the paths by which the sons could follow: the father vs. evil men. This section ends with some beautiful similes (remember those? a comparison using like or as).

• The path of righteousness is like the first gleam of dawn (v. 18). In other words, the way of wisdom is like following the sunrise.

• Th way of the wicked is like deep darkness (v. 19). In other words, it’s so dark there is no way to see where you’re going.

How do you think Solomon’s audience might have responded to these instructions?

This is when we consider the context and attempt to imaginatively put ourselves in the shoes of the “sons” of Solomon. First of all, we know that they revered him and knew him as the recipient of wisdom from God and the wisest and wealthiest man in the world. When he spoke, the people listened. You can probably think of someone right now who you respect or consider wise. When you see them post something, you stop to read it. When their new book comes out, you preorder it. In other words, it’s safe to assume Solomon’s audience was dialed in to what he was saying based on his status alone, but we also know they were human. Did Solomon’s instructions fill them with hope or feel unattainably prescriptive? We cannot know, but we can wonder.

It is also worth considering how the use of imagery in these Proverbs would have resonated with Solomon’s listeners who likely grew up as students of the Torah. They would have easily recalled David’s talk of evil men and wicked ways in the Psalms or his words in 2 Samuel 23:4 where he references light and darkness and the sun rising as a metaphor for a wise ruler: “...he [the one who rules in fear of God] is like the light of morning at sunrise on a cloudless morning...” Even further back the metaphor goes to Deborah the Judge who likened those who follow God to a rising sun in Judges 5:31: “…may all who love you be like the sun when it rises in its strength.”

These are simply glimpses of how the imagery of the Old Testament links back to itself in wild and wonderful ways. Young Israelite students would have made these connections or at least felt home among them.

The pattern of IF/THEN instructions may have left you feeling a bit disillusioned because these performance-based outcomes don’t seem to match up with the reality of our lives. Those of us who are breathing feel this deeply. I want to encourage you to let disillusionment take you deeper into Scripture. There is a place for all your wonderings.

In this instance, the imagery of chapter 4 actually indicates that the father is not calling the sons to perform, but calling them to follow. This distinction makes all the difference in our understanding of how to live wisely.

David’s Deathbed & Solomon’s Anointing

This is where context will enrich your reading. Just like a story in a sermon helps drive the main points home, these narratives will provide some scaffolding to your understanding of Proverbs.

Can you skip them if you’re short on time? Yes.

Will you miss some drama and some application? Also, yes.

Read 1 Kings 1:5-20

• What does it say? David is on his deathbed and his son Adonijah is next in like for the throne. He is handsome and has garnered some support for his posturing as the future king. His aging father hasn’t explicitly objected to this. Adonijah makes sacrifices at the high places, as kings would do, but curiously does not invite Solomon. Bathsheba, Solomon’s mother, and Nathan the prophet hatch a plan to clue David into what is happening.

Read 1 Kings 1:29-40

• Practice answering for yourself the first two questions we use in studying the text: What does it say? Why did it matter?

• Don’t miss that this is a beautiful transition of power, but it is not without division. Solomon is going to have his work cut out for him.

When we look at the imagery of Proverbs and the coronation of Solomon, we see that the way of wisdom is less about which path to take and more about who we are following. Of course, there is a journey aspect to the following. We are making choices and going somewhere, but where we’re going is entirely influenced by the one who is leading us. In Proverbs, the journey is characterized by light and darkness. We either follow those doing what is right in their own eyes, those who may look handsome and seem like the logical choice, but actually only offer a manipulated version of the real deal, or we follow the light. This particular light isn’t fully realized in the Proverbs imagery. Recall it is described as the first gleam of dawn, the sun gradually coming into full view, shining ever brighter as it breaks in.

When King David instructs his allies to anoint Solomon as king, he gives two significant instructions. The first is to place him on a mule and the second is to take him to Gihon. Gihon was the primary water source for the city of Jerusalem flowing east to west. It is also referenced in Genesis 2 in the garden narrative as one of the four headways flowing east to west from Eden (v. 13). In Hebrew, Gihon is translated to mean “bursting forth.” When Solomon is placed on a mule and enters the city of Jerusalem from Gihon, this easily missed, purposeful scene foreshadows another king—One also riding on donkey, bursting forth to initiate His kingdom and inviting us, not to perform, but to follow.

In John 14, Jesus has just finished telling his disciples that he is going to prepare a place for them and Thomas asks the question on everyone’s minds: “Lord, we don’t know where you are going so how can we know the way?” (v. 5). He still thinks it’s about performance. In other words, he’s saying just tell us which way to go so we can go that way.

Jesus instead extends Thomas an invitation to follow: “I am the Way and the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (vv.6–7). This is our invitation to the way of wisdom—not a list of instructions or appropriate behaviors, but a person who will show us the way, the person of Jesus whose life, death, and resurrection is the only way forward to a flourishing life.

Would you follow Him?

• When you marked the benefits of wisdom, what responses did you notice within yourself? Did you feel a pull to try and figure out how to get those benefits? Or were you disillusioned like me?

• Consider memorizing Proverbs 2:1-5 in any translation that is dear to you. This reminds us that the mysteries of God are hidden treasure and in the searching is the finding.

• Let art do the work for you. Here’s more information on this 16th century work by Jean Poyet titled The Coronation of Solomon by the Spring of Gihon.

  

WHTH friends, please reach out to me if you have any source questions, reactions, or feedback. I’m always happy to practice cultivating my own curiosity toward the Biblical text with other people.

Today, I inched closer to the finish line of a challenging seminary class by turning in a paper I willingly let hang over my head for several weeks. Tis a wild and wonderful feeling to hit “submit” and an even more lovely one to hit “send” on these essays to you. Now I’m turning my attention to February’s installment of So I Won’t Forget.

I hope you’ll stick around for it!

It helps me hold onto my own voice as a writer and to remember the humanity of this whole experience using words to communicate via the Internet. This particular study is adapted from one I taught in the basement of my church building where I met my friend Amanda. She died this past year after a long battle with cancer and not a word of this version was touched without my thinking of her—her curiosity about the Bible, her gentleness, her humor that came out the more you got to know her, and her utter courage in the face of death.

My prayer in bringing this to Substack is that someone out there would have her same earnestness in coming to the text. That you might dig for treasure and open-handedly receive whatever goodness may be buried deep.

This is a guide more than anything. Work hard to develop your own Biblical literacy through trial and error. I will offer some of my own insights insomuch as they are helpful, but if you do nothing else, please ruminate on the text, wrestle with it and ask good questions. Then, if you would be so kind, send me a note about what it did for you.

What, if anything, comes to mind when you think of the book of Proverbs?

This question deserves a moment of your time because its answer will likely reveal any preconceived notions that you’re bringing to the text—accurate, unhelpful, or nonexistent as they may be. Here are a few common ones gathered from groups of real women:

• Proverbs is little sayings about how to live wisely.

• Chapter 31 is known for being about the “Proverbs 31 Woman.”

• I memorized the verse “Trust in the lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding…” when I was in Sunday school growing up.

In my own studies, I have found Proverbs to be an onion. What initially looks and smells obvious, is actually quite complex when you chop it. Layers upon layers offer up a strength of flavor and scent so potent they’ll make your eyes water. Proverbs is will surprise you with its intensity and delight you with its complexity.

It’s an old recipe with really trustworthy ingredients. Let’s eat…

Two Key Definitions: Proverb & Wisdom

Biblical scholars classify the book of Proverbs as Hebrew wisdom literature which simply means what we find in our English Bibles is a collection of wisdom used by Ancient Israel to teach the younger generations how best to live. This was most likely passed down orally between fathers and sons. Here are 2 words I want you to know going forward:

1. Mashal - This is the Hebrew word for “proverb” and it generally means a comparison or analogy. These were usually concise comparisons meant to convey a moral truth based on their similarities or differences. A modern example might be the phrase “no pain, no gain” or “the pen is mightier than the sword.”

2. Chokmah - This is the Hebrew word for “wisdom” which literally translated means “skill.” In our language when we think of wisdom, we typically equate it with mental activities, but in Hebrew it is tinged with practical application. Chokmah can be exercised in craftsmanship or construction. The word is even used to describe the installation of artwork during temple construction.

What’s the takeaway? In its original language and among its original speakers, the concept of wisdom in the Hebrew Proverbs was both intellectually considered and tangibly expressed.

A proverb is a concise, comparative, and contemplative saying meant to impart knowledge for practical wise living.

The likely author of Proverbs—King Solomon

One of the things I find most helpful before focusing on a specific part of the Bible is making sure we understand where we are dropping into the narrative. Because the Bible is one cohesive story, but one that is not always laid out for us in chronological order, it can feel difficult to see the full picture and we risk losing rich details.

If you’d like to get the fullest picture of Proverbs, I recommend starting with a Sunday School refresher course on King Solomon and going as deeply as you have capacity. For this Stack Study, I’m simply going to suggest the passages and portions of his life that correspond with whatever aspects of Proverbs we’re exploring that week.

Skip this step if you feel so compelled by time and attention, but if there is a glimmer of curiosity, I say follow the rabbit hole all the way down.

Read 2 Samuel 7:11-17 - The Davidic Covenant

• Practice answering for yourself the first two questions we use in studying the text: What does it say? Why did it matter?

• Why does it still matter? This is God’s promise to David that someone from his line will always be on the throne. Scholars call this the Davidic Covenant and much like the Abrahamic Covenant, it foreshadows a coming kingdom. The Davidic Covenant will be fully realized in the birth and reign of Christ, but for our study today, we see that God tells David that his son will build the temple. This son is going to be Solomon.

Read 1 Kings 3:4-15 - Solomon asks for wisdom

• Practice answering for yourself the first two questions we use in studying the text: What does it say?

• Why did it matter? This one may be more difficult to answer, but think about why this transition of power may have mattered to the Israelites. It represented a shift from a time of war to a time of peace. A king has come onto the scene with both the familial credentials and the anointing of God to back him up. And he does a really really great thing: he asks for wisdom so that he can obey God and rule justly.

In your own words and with the information we have up to this point, write a brief description of Solomon. “Solomon was…”

Read Proverbs 1:1-7 - The Prologue to Proverbs

These are the proverbs of Solomon, the son of David appointed by God to build the temple. This is a collection of the words from his reign as king of Israel including advice of how to live a wise life. He calls out the young specifically and tells us that whoever listens will add to their learning. Notice the introduction of this key phrase: “the fear of the LORD.”

For this question, think about what weight the proverbs may carry to the listener knowing who Solomon is, put yourself in the shoes of a young Israelite who would know a few key things…

• Solomon was famous for his wisdom and wealth. During his reign, the nation of Israel thrived. A king from the infamous line of David, he possessed the impressive combination of both familial credentials and the legit ability to execute as evidenced by his expanding and flourishing kingdom. Simply put, his words held weight. As we will see later in the study, people traveled from far away regions just to hear him speak and test his wisdom and knowledge.

• This is Hebrew poetry. We aren’t reading a narrative or a letter. We’re reading poetry and this influences how we examine the text. Imagine trying to take literally the words of Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Walt Whitman, Shel Silverstein, or Sylvia Plath. We read their works and pull out themes. We look to their use of imagery and metaphors knowing full well these devices are used on purpose to reveal the depth of their work. The reading of Proverbs is going to be no different.

• “The fear of the LORD” is a familiar and frequently used phrase in Hebrew and one that can cause confusion for modern readers of the Bible. Israelites would have understood that this phrase does not mean to literally be afraid of God. Hebrew scholar Tim Mackie of the Bible Project gives a definition that frames this important phrase as this:

  • Knowing my place before God in the universe and living accordingly

  • Understanding that I am not the author of my own existence and I am not the author of what is good and not good.

Culturally, we often think of wisdom as something that comes from within and this is subtly, if not overtly, communicated to us everywhere. We’re told to “follow our heart” or “be true to yourself.” The characters our children love and follow are often on a quest for their own happiness. Even in my most recent cycling workout, I was met with messages about how I possessed everything I needed to be great, but this idea seems to be contrasted with the idea of Biblical wisdom. Recall that Solomon asked God for wisdom. It was not something that he produced from within himself, but rather something that was given to him by God as a gift.

If we pair this with the idea of that the wisdom actually starts with understanding our place in the universe before God, understanding that we are not the authors of what is good and not good, then we can see clearly that the “chokmah” of God is actually quite different than our culture’s definition of wisdom.

True wisdom ("chokmah”) is a gift that we receive from God and we desperately need it. We actually don’t possess all we need to be great, but we have direct access to the Author of great. If we want to live a flourishing life, one where we can discern what is good and right, just and prudent, then we must ask God to put His wisdom in us just like Solomon.

Paul carries this message forward in the New Testament when he speaks about the differences between worldly wisdom and the wisdom of God:

• “We do, however, speak a message of wisdom among the mature, but not the wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are coming to nothing. No, we declare God’s wisdom, a mystery that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began.” - 1 Corinthians 2:6-7, NIV

And James gives us the simple instruction that we saw played out in Solomon’s life:

• “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.” - James 1:5, NIV

This is the framework of wisdom that we’ll use as we dig deeper into the life of Solomon and the words he spoke in the Proverbs. While they were written so many years ago, I believe they can still form and shape us.

I’ll try my best to always leave you with some tools for ruminating on what you’ve read. This is the good kind of rumination—release yourself of any baggage related to that word, says the former therapist.

• Read Proverbs 1:1-7 in a few translations slowly over the course of a week. Try NRSV, CEB, or NLT if you need a place to start. Doing so positions you to see things afresh that may otherwise be overly familiar.

• Write a prayer asking God for wisdom. Model it after Solomon’s prayer or make it the simplest thing you’ve ever written.

• Talk to someone about what you are reading. This is akin to children practicing narration as they’re learning to read. Retell what you’re reading to a spouse, a friend over coffee, or even sweeter, with your kids. What a beautiful thing for our kids to see us trying to learn!

If you did You Have Done Great Things in real time last Fall, you know I rolled it out weekly, but I’ve resigned to go more slowly with this one. I hope it makes space for someone to take their time and for more to join in on the fly. That being said, would you consider sending this to a friend?

Curious about a source for this material? I love that someone might ask this question because I would. It says we’re kindred spirits.🤎 E-mail me directly right now. I’m working on a Resource Page for WHTH to include all frequently consulted commentaries, texts, translations, and podcasts. This should be out within the month.

If you’re new to We Have This Hope, you can find out what this is all about right here.

If you’re an OG (or my mom who happens to be the real OG), I’ll be keeping this introduction shorter than normal because I have a lot of words for you today.

These essays are the overflow of a grateful heart. I never finish writing them without being astounded by the goodness of God in my ordinary life. This is the consistent return for the spiritual discipline of remembering. I hope you’ll savor them as you read, laugh a little in between, and consider doing this work yourself.

Prefer to listen? Pop in your headphones and take me with you on a walk.

Read all the way to the end for an update on the podcast and an announcement about what’s coming next week!

#1…I Have a Dream cake

My eldest has an affinity for baking. I know what you’re thinking…what an adorable hobby! And you’d be correct because baking at age 11 does check a lot of boxes. It’s tech-free, creative, translatable to useful skills, delicious, and positions her in the center of the house while working independently. Sprinkle in a little math and it’s basically the unicorn of pre-teen hobbies.

When we were drowning in toddlers, people espoused to me the wonders of kids old enough to use the kitchen on their own and that’s turned out to be somewhat true. It’s quite nice when they can grab a snack, eat it on their own, and then throw the trash away—your only involvement is to affirm the whole process. That’s much better than wiping the floor underneath their high chairs for the umpteenth time, but what I found missing from all the laud about childhood kitchen independence was any warning about the cost by way of character development.

So dear reader, I will not perpetuate the myth that as children grow more independent in the kitchen they will not require your assistance. They will and it looks a lot like emotional coaching with a side of very clear verbal instructions. Results may vary, but I offer up a cautionary tale about a Nutella cake that cost me 5 hours and ended with the entirety of Dr. King’s I Have a Dream speech. Parents of toddlers, consider yourself warned.

I found her in the kitchen donning an apron and a sidekick from across the street. When I inquired about the setup, she told me she wanted to bake a cake to share with neighbors on MLK Day. How could I possibly object to such a noble endeavor? I nodded along and snagged my iced coffee to sip while chatting with friends in the sunshine of my driveway.

Flash forward to a time later that evening when the sun was no longer shining and the cake was still not done. For unknown reasons, our top oven won’t reach temperature unless you chose specific buttons and if someone doesn’t know this, say the 11 year old baking a two layered cake, it can result in wildly different textures and colors. By 6PM we had one perfectly golden, rounded layer and one light beige and very dense layer. We also had an abundance of tears about the disparity between them. Cue the aforementioned emotional coaching.

Half an hour later and with much encouragement, she began tackling the Nutella-based icing while insisting that she did not, I repeat DID NOT, need any help from the adults. I learned shortly thereafter that the recipe had called for 24 ounces of salted butter which she melted in the microwave for slightly longer than recommended. More tears for her and deep breaths from me over this darling cake that appeared to be stealing our evening. Ever the hero in these situations, Dad stepped in to calmly demonstrate how to ice a two-layer cake even though I’m fairly confident he’s never actually done that before. And by 8PM the whole thing was heartily complete and resting under the shelter of a glass cake stand.

The next day she called the neighbors over for cake and stood proudly in the corner of our dining room holding a book she’d brought home from school. With an air of poised classroom teacher, she read slowly and deliberately while we ate, holding open the pictures for all to see in between each paragraph. Halfway through her reading, I realized she was sharing Dr. King’s I Have a Dream speech word for word. This wasn’t just a cute picture book, this was his infamous speech peacefully calling out injustice and affirming the equality of all people made in the image of God.

When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: “Free at last! Free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”1

These hallowed words came out of my girl’s mouth while mine was full of Nutella and I wondered in my heart what compelled her to facilitate such a staunch reminder of Dr. King’s legacy. Was she parroting what she’d seen through teachers, neighbors, friends, and family? Was she responding to a nagging sense of justice that she seems to have accompanied her out of the womb? Or was the Spirit of God calling these beautiful sensibilities into the next phase of maturity, a phase that produces that perfect blend of gentleness and wisdom and measured action? Please let all the answers be yes.

When I set out to be officially laid-back about a cake that cost 5 hours with a side of my sanity, I hadn’t anticipated what I’d find on the other side of it. I mostly imagined that I was fostering confidence in the kitchen and encouraging creativity, but it was so much more than that. If I’d jumped in to rescue my mostly white kitchen, I might have missed my daughter rehearsing how to use her voice to speak truth in love, to name injustice, and to rally others to join her in these holy efforts.

I’m still finding remnants of splattered Nutella that I could begrudgingly wipe up while wondering about a day when I won’t have a kitchen filled with little creatives or I could count them the markings of a sacred space where people grow into maturity. In some seasons that maturity looks like how to balance a spoon all the way to your mouth and in other seasons, it looks like how to turn curiosity into overflowing compassion.

What a privilege to wipe the floor for all of them.

#2…How basketball teaches us to be human

We’re in the thick of basketball season at our house which mostly means calculating the time it takes to get from one rural Oklahoma town to the next. In a real life conversation a few weeks ago, I legitimately did not know what town I was in—somewhere that started with a C and was big enough to have an elementary basketball team, but otherwise no clue.

Basketball is a new sport to me. I never played growing up and didn’t pay much attention to it in a college or professional level either. March Madness wasn’t a thing around my girlie household, but I married a Kansas Jayhawk and that changed the basketball landscape for me going forward. Save the time Dustin finished a game standing on top of our coffee table blaring All I Do Is Win by DJ Khaled, I’d say we’re fairly laid back fans. We make brackets, snuggle up to watch fourth quarters, and play out in the cul-de-sac a little.

I’m the least qualified person to be chronicling the greatness of this game, but sometimes a mid-life convert can shed a fresh light on old things. We’re learning so much at our house through this fundamentally lovely game so allow me to indulge a few metaphors for the sake of remembering a formational and precious season.

1. Pass…You cannot do it all on your own. Sometimes the only way to get the job done is to surrender to the help of another.

2. Run…It’s one thing to be restful, but at some point our legs were made to run. Use speed at the right time and, for goodness sakes, don’t walk when you’re supposed to be running.

3. Arms up…There are times when you’re still in something, but you’ve also done all you can. This is when you calculate your risk and simply have to go arms up. It’s anything but passive—it’s strategic and utterly important.

4. Block…Defense wins championships so we’re told…set a boundary, be respectfully firm, and don’t compromise your values.

5. Foul…Some are personal, some are technical. You’re allowed a few with a bit of grace, but there’s a limit for the safety of others and the purposes of the game. Forgive when you’re fouled. Extend a hand to the one you foul. And get back to work.

6. Dribble…As is the case many times in life, you can’t skip certain steps or you’ll have to walk it all the way back. Pressing forward is not the same as barreling forward without a little skill. Don’t forget to look up.

7. Get open…There’s always repetitive and important work to be doing even when you aren’t the center of attention. Stay curious, move around, and when the time is right, call for it.

#3…Not a book review

This is not a book review.

It will be more akin to a love letter than anything else because twice now I’ve read it and twice now I’ve teared up at the urgency of it all. I closed its pages last week and, standing in our kitchen, emphatically told Dustin “We have GOT to read the Bible more” and I didn’t mean it in the way you’re likely thinking—more devotionals, more quiet times, more regularity out of rigor or duty.

I meant we need more of it like we need more vegetables. We need to eat more of it. Get it into our bodies and do the slow work of digesting and metabolizing it so that we are different people because of it.

I borrowed this metaphor, of course, from the book I’m about to espouse by the late and prolific Eugene Peterson. Most of us know him from his modern translation of the Bible called The Message, but too few of us know him for his other seemingly hidden works like Eat This Book: A Conversation in the Art of Spiritual Reading.

I’ve yet to read anything else that articulates more beautifully an argument for reading the Scriptures in a way that is wholly personal and deeply transformational. Peterson borrows his own metaphor from chapter 10 of John’s Revelation when John attempts to write his vision on the scroll, but the angel instead tells him to eat it.2 His point in dissecting these strange verses is simply that our interaction with the Scriptures ought to be a lot like eating—savoring, processing, experiencing, ruminating, and ultimately coming back again and again as if our whole lives depended on it.

I find this to be such a comfort because it names reading Scripture as embodied work—in my view a much more compelling process than if it required intellect alone. In those seasons and moments when the Bible has astounded me, it has been less about the academics of it all and so much more about the way my insides were nourished. And because I’m in a season of academics, one where I am truly nerding-out about the text, I need to cling to the reality that Rich Mullins so lyrically captured for us in the late 90s: “I did not make it. No, it is making me….”3

If anything, may this essay live right here so when I re-read my own work, which I occasionally do, I’ll remember how much I love Peterson’s work and how much it felt like a hug from a mentor who put words to an experience that I couldn’t name.

Also, I hope you’ll read it and let me know what you think.

Some of you have asked me about the We Have This Hope podcast this year and the short answer is that I’m not doing any interviews until later this year. Why? Because I’m in seminary and I’m a mom of 3 and both require me to be healthy.

For now, you can except monthly narrations of So I Won’t Forget if you just crave the sound of my voice or perhaps you’re simply more a listener than a reader. I get that.

Most importantly…next week I’m rolling out the first installment of a Stack Study on Proverbs. If you have questions or you’re interested in following along, leave a comment and I’ll do my best to fill in the gaps.

We are fond of saying that the Bible has all the answers. And that is certainly correct. The text of the Bible sets us in a reality that is congruent with who we are as created beings in God’s image and what we are destined for in the purposes of Christ. But the Bible also has all the questions, many of them that we would just as soon were never asked of us, and some of which we will spend the rest of our lives doing our best to dodge. The Bible is a most comforting book; it is also a most discomfiting book.

- Eugene Peterson, Eat This Book: Conversation in the Art of Spiritual Reading

I can’t remember how I latched onto Bible study in college, but I can still picture myself tucked away in a window seat of the third-floor study nook where I lived, Bible splayed out with colored pencils and Beth Moore’s Breaking Free study nearby. I can recall that tingling feeling in my foot after I’d sat too long with it folded under my lap and I can still hear the startling echo of my chair lurching backward when I’d finally snap back to the reality of my day.

In 2007, I finished that study sitting alone of the beach of the Baltic Sea off the coast of a little country called Estonia. I’d spent the summer working alongside dear friends, one who would become my husband, and I was exhausted and happy. Tears streamed down my cheeks while I contemplated the reality that Christ’s death and resurrection set me free and I remember thinking to myself “I want to remember this moment.”

Thank God I do.

Much life has been lived since these now romanticized moments—many books read, many earnest mistakes made, many stones turned over in pursuit of what this text had to offer. In many ways, studying the Bible has wrecked my life. It’s proven wildly inconvenient. It’s forced me to reckon with parts of myself I’d rather bury. It’s lit me up on the inside and propelled me into tasks that left my brain hurting and my heart burning.

And yet I can’t shake it. I’m still a devoted student to an ancient text that I believe is alive, transformative, and revolutionary. I want to know it and be formed by it.

Can I help you study the Bible?

I’m approaching this question with a healthy dose of apprehension for a variety of reasons that include some of the following:

I’m worried you’ll perceive me as cute, rather than serious.

I think some of you may disagree with me at times and, while my rational brain knows disagreement is part of participating in the great conversation, guess what else is? Feelings. And sometimes I have those too.

I am well aware that there are many people who are more read, researched, and experienced than me who have talked about studying the Bible and I’m worried you’ll perceive me as trying to hold myself up as some kind of expert with a new take on a very old thing.

Finally, and most tenderly to me personally, there are some who don’t believe women can teach the Scriptures. While I wholly disagree from both the perspective of Biblical interpretation and church history, it still sometimes feels like the wild west out there for women in this space.

But here’s the truth…

Being cute and serious are not mutually exclusive.

Disagreement is natural, but there are some things I’m immovable on. Also, I can handle my feelings about all of that with help from my inner circle.

I have experience with studying the Bible, some lived and some formal, and I love this work. Consider me a friend trying to get you to taste my dessert because I already know how delicious it is and I want you to experience it too.

And as far as egalitarianism, I’ll simply refer you to other voices who have shaped my convictions on this one: Lucy Peppiatt, NT Wright, Sandra Richter, Gordon Fee & Many Others.

3 possible scenarios…

Some of you have done this for longer than you can remember. You’ve essentially earned a degree in women’s Bible study over years of Precept, BSF, Beth Moore, etc. Your face glows like you’re coming down from the mountain and frankly, I want to be like you.

Others of you are too intimidated by this book to even know where to begin. Either you’ve sat under teaching that’s soured you to its authority or you’ve never tasted its goodness enough to be compelled toward it. I hope reading this is a nudge to open yourself up or set aside preconceived notions, as if to lay your hands open in your lap and say God, show me what this can do.

My guess is that most of you are in the middle. You have a very full life paired with an earnest desire to interact with the Biblical text using your intellect and your heart. You’re simultaneously asking very real questions like how do I do that when the baby wakes at 5:45AM? How do I muster the energy when I’ve worked 9 hours and my brain is fried? Let me be the first to say, I feel these questions in my bones because I’ve been there.

A not-quick fix..

This might be the part where you’d expect me to offer you a solution, a quick fix, a healthy habit to tweak your routine and start thriving. Mostly these phrases make me gag a little, so I’ll say immediately that I’ve found the only way to study the Bible meaningfully and deliberately in the context of a bursting-at-the-seams life is very slowly over a long amount of time with a healthy dose of clumsiness and a heaping one of earnestness.

Keep coming back to this work with open hands like a first grader learning to read.

Letters

Phonics

Structure

Fluency

Narration

and in bits and pieces along the way...Comprehension.

This is how you grow in Biblical literacy. Wrestle. Ask theological questions. And keep reading slowly in the same direction. If this text is alive and active, revealing truth to all people for all of time, then we don’t have to be afraid of what we’ll find within it or what will happen to us when we start to peel back the layers. Spoiler alert, it’s good no matter how fast or slowly you go.

Because I asked if I could help…

A few years ago I started using 3 questions when I read the Bible on my own. I mostly adapted them from a friend who is an expert in organizational coaching and project management, which may seem out of left field, but alas they work well in a Biblical studies context. They’re not a magic formula, but a guide much like a journaling prompt. I’ve written in more detail about them here and you’ll find a PDF download of this resource below. Feel free to use it however it may be helpful.

3 Questions I Ask When I Read The Bible

36.3KB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

Proverbs & the Life of Solomon…

Lastly, I’m rolling out another Stack Study this Spring working through Proverbs and the life of its likely author, Solomon. If you were around for You Have Done Great Things covering Ezra & Nehemiah, you’ll find this to be very similar except I’m going to roll it out…more…slowly.

I had the joy of working through these texts again last semester with 2 women from my local church and it was such an easy lift. It looked like meeting about every other week over the lunch hour at a house with a table. We read aloud, asked questions, wondered about things, and prayed. It was equal parts simple and rich.

I wonder if you’ll consider following this model and send today’s post to a few friends who might be willing and open to give it a try. Send me a DM if you want to chat more, have a question, or need a pep talk.

I’m here for all of it and cheering you on!

My inbox tells me that it’s time for the new year, but I still seem to be stuck in the twilight zone that’s somehow extended beyond the week between Christmas and New Year’s to the week between Christmas and the day everyone goes back to school. I’m all about a break, craved it actually, but the break needs to be over because the people demand a routine. I’m writing this on a quiet morning after everyone stayed up wildly past their bedtimes and since we’ve graduated to the era of getting that sleep back in the AM, I won’t complain too much.

I suppose all I’m saying is that while I longed for a disruption to my rhythms, I am now longing for them to return.

One of those rhythms is So I Won’t Forget. This month’s edition marks 2 full years of consistently writing about 3 things I want to remember from the past month. That’s 24 compilations and ultimately 72 essays looking backward at the work of God in my ordinary life. While I wonder if I’m not the only one tired of seeing posts like “Here’s what I learned in 2025” or “Things I’d do differently in 2025,” could I lob one more over the fence line for your consideration? One more summary that indulges the writer perhaps more the reader? Scroll faster if you’d rather get to this month’s essays because here goes...

What I’ve learned from chronicling 3 things I want to remember every month for 2 years…

1. Writing is slow work that cannot be completed in one fell swoop. It takes longer to do this than I wish it did, but my worst essays are the ones I rush to complete.

2. I would have forgotten most of what I’ve written about if I had not written about it AND everything I’ve written about is tender and dear to me.

3. People love an honest story. It does something in the reader that cannot be done outside of a solid narrative.

4. I am not the center of my own story, but I am a valued, dearly loved, integral part of the story. And this seems a much better part to play than the author or ultimate protagonist.

5. God sees me. He is not absent or unaware of the intricacies of my seemingly ordinary life. I can find Him more easily in the mundane days when “all I do” looks a lot like boring stuff to simply keep the ship afloat.

And with that, let’s get right to it. This is December (or at least it recently was) and here are the things I don’t want to forget.

More of a listener? You can listen to an audio narration of this month’s essay right here, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.

#1…Discomfort and other things that grow us.

I did not grow up in a missionary family except actually I did. My parents never lived overseas or called ministry their vocation, but they also never had normal hobbies. Have I ever seen my father play a round of golf? No. But I have seen him pack suitcases with medical supplies and fly them across the globe. I’ve seen my Mom, who by all measures is fancy and beautiful and not outdoorsy, forego beach trips to dispense medications in Mexico or welcome African evangelists into her home for weeks at a time.

This context is simply to say it came as no surprise to me when my parents’ retirement hobby became friendship with a family of refugees living in our city. It was an utterly on-brand move as the young people might say. The trickle-down effect of this kind of beautiful work is that my family, namely our 3 young kids, gets a front row seat to the curious business we might call caring for the least of these.

Because we live in our current time and place, I want to honor the privacy of our refugee friends with purposefully vague details. Suffice it to say, we do not share a common language, neighborhood, faith, or rhythm of life. The first time we joined them for a meal, my son fell asleep on their couch because dinner was served so much later than his little body allowed him to hang. The room, bursting at the seams with people, turned into a swirl of white noise that lulled him to sleep with his head in the lap of an older woman who patted his hair and laughed with delight. He still doesn’t remember going to this party, but I know she does.

This month we gathered again at their home for a meal. Having been the recipient of this family’s incredible hospitality time and again, my parents insisted on bringing the food as a way to relieve the matriarch of her cooking duties. Whether this got lost in translation or simply dismissed, we’ll never know, but she cooked an entire dining room table full of food including massive amounts of rice with bone-in meat, fresh fruit, and coca-cola galore. Add in the pizza and cookies that the Americans brought and you have a general idea of the scale of this feast. From across the room, I watched my kids eyes grow bigger as if to ask me “are we allowed to eat all of this?” Yes and please do it with a smile.

We ate on the floor sitting criss-cross around a large tablecloth and I chatted with the daughters who have worked hard to learn English and assimilate as best they can into a culture they were hurled into. Midway through the dinner, with a plate heaping full of more rice than her little stomach could possibly hold, my youngest daughter abruptly clammed up. She clung to my arm and whispered through tears the three words no parent wants to hear: “My tummy hurts…” I started rapidly assessing the situation while smiling politely as the two of us engaged in the universal mother/child tango of sleeve-tugging, snot-wiping, negotiating and assessing.

Before I tell you what I ultimately did, lest you think me an unsympathetic mother, can I remind us all what it’s like to know your own child? To understand what truly undergirds their cries of “my tummy hurts” and to take the great risk of calling their bluff, in public no less. Because that’s what I did. I pulled her little ear up to my mouth and in the most lovingly stern whisper that I could muster, said into her tiny, precious ear: “We are NOT leaving.”

She paused, looked up at my face in a posture of surrender and admonition, and said “I’m just not used to this.” Relief washed over me because I knew we’d broken through to the real problem—discomfort, not of the physical kind, but of the relational/emotional kind. I comforted her, encouraged her, and ultimately she rallied like the absolute pro that she so often can be. She spent the rest of the evening away from my warm side, playing and laughing, and in the end, she wasn’t ready to leave. I’ve had my fair share of losses as a parent, moments when I did not make the right call and regretted the course of action I chose, but this one will go down in my mind as a big ole’ W.

My sweet girl, at great risk to her own comfort, followed her family into a context utterly unlike what she knows. She had little say in the matter, almost no agency at all, because her parents made her go. As I type this, I see the very small parallel in the circumstances of our refugee friends, namely the daughters, who were rushed onto a plane and hurled into a world unlike anything they’d ever known for fear of their lives. And I wonder if the important work of discomfort is to shape us into people of incredible empathy. To remind us that we are all made and loved by a Creator who aligned himself with the foreigner, the weak, the lost and lonely, the marginalized, the ones who live in a different neighborhood, and the ones whose tummies hurt because they’re just not used to this.

On the way home we talked about the work of loving others who are different than us, how that can make us feel uncomfortable, and yet there is such beauty in it. I don’t know how much of that landed, but I’ll count it as a tiny deposit in the bank account of raising humans who risk their own comfort for love and pray it grows with interest over time.

“And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’” Matthew 25:40, NRSV

#2…On over-hosting

We broke the record this month.

The record being number of people we’ve ever hosted in our home over a short span of time and the actual number landing somewhere around 140+. I add the “+” simply because one of the parties had some many girls between the ages of 7-12 that I lost count and had to estimate based on the number of half-consumed Honest juice boxes that lined the long table down my living room.

For the introverts in my life, this number likely sounds preposterous. Who hosts that many people in only 4 weeks? You probably think I’ve lost my mind—keep reading to find out. For the extroverts in my life, this number probably sounds like fun, you were at my house this month and I thank you for livening things up around here. And for me, caught somewhere solidly in “middle-version” albeit likely extrovert-leaning, this number seemed fun until it crushed me somewhere around December 20th at the table of a very noisy authentic Mexican restaurant, after attending 4 basketball games, and precisely when my daughter asked me for a quarter to buy a piece of gum.

So I wept.

I had found the threshold and dove headfirst over it into the land of take-mom-home-and-put-her-to-bed. Which is what my husband did, God bless him. Self-awareness can be a tricky business because just when you think you have it, you probably still need to grow in it. I consider myself to be a generally healthy person and I’d even go as far to say that I’m a high capacity person—maybe motherhood turned me into that, but alas, I can juggle a lot and usually don’t mind doing it. But what I had missed in the spirit of doing something I love was the reality that I am a person of limited capacity and that is by design, not by character flaw.

Our culture often praises a spirit of independence and I understand that. I want my children to grow into adults who can manage their stuff, but maybe some of us actually need to cultivate a spirit of dependence. The kind that says I’m actually not responsible for this or I should ask someone to help me. This is the posture I think I’m trying to grow so that perhaps next time I’ll clue in before I’m weeping at Casa Tequila over a bowl of queso.

Note to self: Next year, resist over-hosting and get a massage before school is out.

#3…White board romance

Every year since our kids were babies, my husband and I have taken a few hours somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s to dream about the future. The first time we did this, our oldest was barely 4 years old and our twins were 8 months old so it took 2 all-star grandmas for us to go to Panera for approximately 1 hour. I hand-wrote our thoughts on notebook paper while savoring whatever day-old pastry felt like Michelin-star cuisine at the time.

We’ve refined the process quite a bit over the years, particularly because my husband does operational and organizational coaching for a living, and this year more than ever felt seamless and energizing. We use a white board. We stand when we’re talking. We’re total dorks. But more importantly, we don’t pretend to know the future, much less to creating any kind of it, but we do believe in a plan and have seen the fruit of aiming for them now since 2017. Life has been equal measures predictable and beautifully unpredictable. Behold the evidence from years past.

I leave you to guess the individuals attached to the specific goals.

2021 - No diapers in 2021!!!! Read another NT Wright book. Ride a Fondo at Tulsa Tough.

2022- Grow in my vision of learning and teaching the Bible. Work restfully. Ride a big boy bike.

2023 - Learn to read. Do a gravel bike race. Implement Curzon Family OS. 40 podcast episodes.

2024 - MOVE HOME!!!! Go camping. Cook more as a creative outlet. Buy less from Starbucks.

2025 - Get a live animal even though I have a golden retriever. 100 workouts. Apply to seminary.

2026 - Dear reader, if you’ve lasted this long, you are my favorite person, above all the ones who read only long enough to find out if my daughter threw up in the home a kind refugee family. I won’t be sharing what we wrote for 2026 because that feels too risky to divulge. Ask me in person or tune in next year.

You can find the complete So I Won’t Forget series right here. Like all writers who have gone before me, I cringe at what I penned back in early 2024, but how else do we grow if not by putting it out there?

And speaking of planning and scheming, I have great ambitions for WHTH in 2026, some of which are sure to fall through, some of which will hopefully stick. Either way, I promise to keep in step with the Spirit and only send you the best of what I’ve got.

Thanks for being a part of what God is doing in and through me. More to come next week!

A few years ago I wrote this prayer as a way to end the year. I’m always looking for ways to connect us back to what started this work in the first place—remembering. I know full well that some years reflecting stirs up the opposite of what we want to feel, or what we think we should be feeling during the holidays, but I pray you’ll find a way to be open to reflection regardless of what 2025 has been to you.

My hope is that in wrestling with our remembering, we’ll find that God is tender toward us, mysteriously gracious, and exceedingly loving. There’s a place for all your feelings in His care.

With love and until next year,

A Prayer for Remembering the Past Year

God, You know all the things that happened this year. Nothing surprised you, nothing was too much for You.

You made me with a mind that can think, dream, and remember so when the year ends, I think about what happened and I dream about what will come.

And I remember all the things that are stored away like a box in the attic that collects dust, yet somehow still takes up valuable space.

I remember things that were light and fun like the day my son scored his first soccer goal and grinned ear to ear as he trodded downfield. Or the cool night we finished Harry Potter by the campfire. Or the way the coffee tasted when I finally found the perfect creamer.

I remember things that were heavy and ill-fitting like that unsettled feeling that crept in when the season of waiting never seemed to end and the suffering of a friend made no sense at all. Or the anxiety that snuck in the back door and tried to smother us in late Summer. Or the world that too many times felt like it truly might be falling apart.

In this Advent season, I want to be like Mary storing up things and pondering them in my heart, but sometimes I don’t know how to hold all you’ve given me to remember.

Some of this past year feels like an awkwardly-shaped backpack someone else filled up for me to carry around and I ask myself: Am I getting stronger to carry it or is it just simply weighing me down?

God, don’t let my memories of this year bury me.

In your grace, let my remembering be a gift.

In your kindness, let my remembering be a teacher.

In your mercy, let my remembering be redeemed.

Transform my mind so that my memories of this year make clear You were with me all along. Don’t let me ruminate for too long, but remind me of the truth of this season—that Immanuel came in the dust and dirt to the weary and unlikely, that Your humanity paved the way to resurrection, that in Your Kingdom nothing is wasted.

Amen.

Today I’m making good on my promise to get back to you with more ideas. This season I’ve been crowd-sourcing ideas from other Substack writers and guests of the We Have This Hope podcast asking the question that I always want to know of other people: what do you do in the quiet or hidden parts of your day to be spiritually formed?

People who really know me know that I do NOT like to order first at a restaurant. I appreciate the occasional resurgence of the ladies-first mentality, but please let me go last because I have a real fear that someone else’s order might sound better than what I have in mind. Translation: I like options.1 If you share my menu anxiety, this series is for you. The good news is that all of these taste good. I hope you’ll give yourself permission to feast!

#1…Adopt a physical posture

Whether you grew up in a charismatic context or a liturgical context, I am willing to bet that you have used your body to express your faith. Maybe you’ve raised your arms in worship or perhaps you’ve simply held out our hands as you receive the communion elements. Ever knelt to pray? Or closed your eyes? Then you’ve used your body in a spiritual practice. These are often postures we adopt in corporate settings, but what if you tried them in the quiet places? If our bodies keep the score—and spoiler alert, they do—then using them in spiritual practices will bear fruit.

Here are 2 practical ways to try this one: Hold your hands open in your lap as you pray or read liturgies. Kneel first thing in the morning before your look at your phone even if only for a second at your bedside. In the words of my favorite liturgy from Every Moment Holy, this posture says “I am not the captain of my own destiny, nor even of this new day…”2

#2…Scripture reading & meditation

This seems obvious, but for those of us who like to read a lot of Christian non-fiction or work through structured Bible studies, this one is a return to an old love. Settle yourself into reading a few verses and thinking quietly about them. What does it say? Why did it matter? Why does it still matter? Here’s a primer on those 3 questions.

#3…Get in nature

I recently interviewed on the podcast and she shared about birding as a spiritual practice. She pitched the idea of sitting outside for 10 minutes simply to notice the birds. I walk in my neighborhood. Many times I’ll start with headphones in, but nothing playing. I like to see how long I can go before I’m compelled to turn something on. Whether its birding, walking, or just sitting on your back patio with a touch of intentionality, I’m willing to bet that you’ll think on Matthew 6:26-30:

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you?

#4…Playlists are your new hymnal

How many of us grew up using a hymnal? It’s growing less common to find them in the pew backs because we have them in our pockets. I wonder if you might make a playlist (or borrow one from the younger people in your life) as a stand-in for turning to that familiar hymn on page 286. In the same way, let the repetition of your favorite worship songs stir your affections for God mid-week. This is essentially what we have in the book of Psalms—the ancient hymnal of Israel. Play it on repeat.

#5…Create a space

The familiarity of a space can eliminate small barriers to communing with God. It might be your rhythm to sit anywhere in the early morning or to mix it up in the evenings, but the simple habit of returning to a marked space allows your mind to follow your body. Simply put, much like you get into bed each night to prepare for sleep, consider creating a small space you visit each time your pray, read, or worship. Light a candle. Turn on a lamp. Put out a coaster for your favorite coffee mug. Over time, your body will know what to do before you have to tell it.

If you missed the first part of this series, you can find it here.

If you have new ideas to add, please comment and let me know. I’d love to collect another round of ideas for next year!

And would you share this with a friend who might need a fresh wind of ideas for connecting with God in the gentlest of ways?

It’s full of anticipation. The weather finally cools off enough for me to wear jeans and sweaters. My firstborn arrived in November and I love her birthday. Soup season. College football. Soccer season ends and we can breathe before basketball. Pre-Advent dreaming and scheming.

And this hidden gem of an album called November Songs featuring one of my favorite musicians, Sandra McCracken. IYKYK.

If you’re new around here, welcome to this month’s So I Won’t Forget. This is the series I’ve been writing monthly for almost 2 years where I practice what I preach—the spiritual discipline of remembering. I believe remembering as a rhythm orients us to God’s good work in the world, trains our brains to see Him right now in whatever we are doing, and anchors us to future Hope. How fitting for the season of Advent that is upon us!

This is November and here are the things I don’t want to forget.

#1…The church is not a building, but I’m glad we have one.

I can close my eyes and walk the halls of the old church building I grew up in. I remember vividly how to get from the basement classrooms to the winding brown staircase that echoed when we stomped our feet racing up to our parents classroom in the church parlor. Were there any donuts left in the adjacent kitchenette? This was the question that propelled us up the old stairwell.

And who could forget the little library where my sister and I would scour the collection of McGee and Me tapes on VHS hoping to leave with one in hand. It was just off the lobby with the clear glass doors that took you out into a courtyard where every year for all of time we took adorable Easter photos and I tugged at my white panty hose while elbowing my sister until we were dismissed to jump on the rocks.

It felt like we owned the place. Like it was our building.

This month our church finally moved back into our building after some major renovations. We’d been out of our building for over a year planting another congregation elsewhere in the city and it felt like a coming home of sorts. One Saturday we gathered throughout the day for all the things volunteering at church entails: training children’s volunteers, configuring new coffee pots, and trying not to lean against wet paint. The final task was unboxing 400 pew chairs that were packed thoroughly in sets of 2.

Initially, I’d planned to take the kids home for this part. There was a small crane overhead with workers finalizing something on the roof, mostly adults able to maneuver dollies, and more cardboard than an Amazon warehouse. It didn’t really feel like the environment for our kids to run wild, but before I could sheep-dog them into the van, they were in the dumpster pounding cardboard underfoot.

Yes, happily atop the large dumpster at a construction site.

And when I say happily, I mean the kind of happily that squeals with the realization you’re getting to do something you know the adults wouldn’t normally let you do. The truth is it actually became quite helpful to have a gaggle of kids compacting all the cardboard as we filled the dumpster and frankly it contained them to one location. Our facilities manager was laughing and taking their picture so I took that as my cue to keep unboxing chairs and enjoy the idyllic moment working alongside people I love, outside a building I love, toward a mission I love.

I know the church is not the building, but I’ve also learned over the years that place matters. The spaces we occupy become the places we encounter the Spirit of God inviting us into meaningful work—the holy ground of discipleship and worship and community. On this day in November, the work looked like saying yes to kids in dumpsters so they’d know this is their building. They own it. They’re invited into it. May they always be delighted to serve it.

#2…Trad mom, non-trad student.

If you’d asked me a year ago if I ever wanted to go back to school, I would have given you a resounding no. The words “I’ve already done that!” have emphatically come out of mouth not in the distant past, yet as I type these words I am finishing up my first seminary class. It’s been fun eating crow and embracing the surprise of how much I want to do something I once said I’d never do.

It’s also been a re-learning of sorts—how online classes work versus how they did not exist my first time around, how coursework sits differently when you aren’t trying to hurry toward a finish line, how to read Old Testament as a textbook and not as a Bible study. And lastly, and most momentously for this era of my life, how to be a student while also being a mom.

This month I caught myself in a moment that epitomized the juggling of mom life and student life when it came time to enroll in next quarter. Enrollment is timed based on your status as a student, which means if there is a class or professor you’d really like to take, you better hop online right as your enrollment window opens or the spots may get filled. The kicker for me was that this window opened precisely at 5PM, the universal time of mayhem for all families with elementary-aged children.

I plopped my laptop on the kitchen counter while Christmas music blared prematurely from the nearby speaker. Half the dinner ingredients were splayed across the other side of the kitchen while my son strummed his ukulele from the couch and his twin sister stirred her homemade play dough on the stovetop behind me. The storm door swung open and shut loudly as neighborhood kids came and went.

Had I bitten off more than I should have in that moment? Yes.

Was I appropriately monitoring said stovetop? No.

But I did enroll in New Testament with the professor I’d hoped to snag and took a quick selfie to document the moment for this exact essay. I knew I’d want to remember.

Capacity is a funny thing as a parent. There are times when by my own choosing I’ve been stretched too thin and times when I’ve felt God stretching me as if to say “Take a risk and embrace what can happen if you keep in step with me.” I think this is one of those times, the risk-taking-eyes-on-Him seasons when by grace I can laugh at the nonsense of this task I’m undertaking. My prayer for this season? Lord, help me keep my levity while it unfolds and also not set my kitchen on fire.

#3…It’s not all bad out there.

Last Sunday marked the start of Advent and my Substack algorithm knew it.

I joyfully consider this the result of having tuned into the right voices, slowly drowning out the noise, and zooming in on the content that bolsters me rather than drains me. Rather than exhaust myself creating more simply to throw my hat in the ring, I decided this time I will remember that sometimes the work of a creative is to highlight the work of other creatives. In case your algorithm isn’t telling you this, let me be the one to say it’s not all bad out there. People are doing beautiful work that will encourage and equip you. Here are some examples perfectly timed for Advent, the season of hopeful anticipation. My prayer is you will find at least one new person to follow that fills your feed with the good news that Hope is alive and well. Christ is coming again. All is not lost. He sees you. This will all be redeemed.

• - She’s a recent guest on the We Have This Hope podcast, but truly I consider her to be Substack’s resident expert on all things liturgical. This post on the month of December is a great primer for Advent plus Christmastide…you will for sure learn something new!

• - I love her Advent devotional, Shadow & Light. It’s beautiful on the inside and the outside so basically you’re getting something for your heart and your coffee table. This post also connects you to really helpful information on the how, why, and what of Advent—a perfect starting place if you’re new to all this.

• - You can count on Kayla to deliver goodness to your inbox every Sunday. She writes beautiful reflections, breath prayers that I’ve whispered throughout my house on wild days, and reading guides. You’ll also find seasonal playlists!

• - If you need to do something with your hands, Kendall’s work is for you. Her Advent collection offers a reflection, a prayer, a recipe, and a little bit of food history. Last year, my neighbor did her sourdough course for Lent and I can attest to the deliciousness that came out of this intentional work.

• - I recently found Tamara’s work thanks to a dear friend here in Tulsa. Her Advent Daybook is a guide through Advent and Christmastide offering daily contemplative practices. Much like the title of her Substack, I think you will find it restful. If you are needing something fresh and gentle, this one is for you.

• - You heard her on the We Have This Hope podcast, but let me say again that I love her book Embracing Advent. A devotional-style resource for rejecting the chaos of the season and embracing the true rhythms of Advent.

• - Her book Sacred Seasons is one I keep out all year to consult for things related to the Church calendar, but particularly during Advent.

I could keep going (and likely will if you saw this note), but if you’ve made it this far then I bet it’s time to get up, reheat your coffee, move on with your day, or pick your kids up from school. That’s where I’m headed.

Next week I’ll be coming to you with the second batch of Spiritual Practices for Your Week. I’m grateful for you, dear reader!

I love a personal story.

Actually I love people and the stories they represent. I’m a natural question-asker, curious about what is just under the surface, and for better or worse, usually unafraid to draw it out. But as one who has literally been in the business of drawing-it-out (former therapist here), I can tell you confidently that it’s a whole other thing to sit in the chair of the one sharing the story.

So with all humility (and a heaping dose of vulnerability), I’m sharing this with my subscribers today. Many of you already know bits and pieces of my story, but I’ve never shared a more cohesive narrative than the one I did for Storytellers Live a few months ago. Sending this out has me feeling tender, but I trust that the beauty God is still making from my loss matters in ways I cannot see or know. One day I will. May God use my story to bolster your faith and increase your hope.

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

A year ago I stumbled upon a podcast (and ministry) that caught my eye because of the way it so beautifully captured stories. Storytellers Live hosts local gatherings all over the southeastern United States where women share their stories of hope found in Jesus. And thank God for the world wide web because these stories are recorded and shared via the podcast—to date there are over 350 available wherever you listen.

When I first discovered Storytellers, I thought to myself “We should start this in Tulsa!” and guess what? Two incredibly thoughtful women had already come to that conclusion so I cozied up to the work they were already doing. Meredith and Piper, you are doing important and valuable work in the midst of your already full lives, keep going!

If you’re local, we’re gathering this Tuesday (TOMORROW!) to hear from my dear friend Cheryl Wood about her work as a doula to refugee women! You can find more info right here.

Did you know Advent is not a 25 day countdown to Christmas?

Don’t worry, I am not about to knock the Charlie Brown chocolate Advent calendar we’ve all been eyeing at Costco this week, but I am going to nudge you to rethink how you interact with the season. Do you know what Advent means? Or its significance in Church history? Have you ever wondered if there might be something richer and deeper to the whole practice? Or perhaps longed for a more intentional approach to it for your family?

I mulled over all of these questions a few years ago while we were in the thick of babies in high chairs. There had to be something more for us than hurling a Fisher Price baby Jesus to the ground on repeat and reading a few Christmas board books. I started reading more about the liturgical calendar and discovered a rich, seemingly hidden world of rhythms that the Church had been embracing for hundreds of years. We bought a wreath and candles. We invited friends to dinner 4 Sundays in a row. We sang in a tiny dining room, read Scripture, recited repeatable words and all while being clumsy and imperfect.

This year my 11 year old asked me with a sense of urgency and longing: “Mom, we’re doing Advent dinners again, right?” She could have asked me a great many things related to Christmas festivities, but this was her first seasonal utterance. Talk about a parenting-ROI1 that I’ll be tucking away for when I feel discouraged.

I share that not to boast as if our family has it all together—we simply do not—but to prove that rhythms over time shape the way we think and feel. They invite us into a story that’s been written for all of time and they form us into people with eyes to see our part in the work of God’s in-breaking kingdom.

Today’s episode is such a timely gift because Advent starts Sunday, November 30th and I’m chatting with , author and worship leader, about her beautiful book Embracing Advent: Rediscovering Christmas in the Chaos. Jen shares accessible ways to incorporate Advent into our lives with daily reflections and Scripture focused on preparing our hearts for Christ’s coming and grounding us amid the chaos of the season. This one is for the planners out there (hello, me) who need to pause before we fill our calendars with the things that don’t really matter.

I hope you’ll tune in NOW before the start of the season. Links to connect with Jen, order her book, and a few other Advent related resources are included below!

• Order Jen’s book here: Embracing Advent: Rediscovering Christmas in the Chaos

• Find her on Substack, Instagram, and Facebook.

• She has a YouVersion devotional perfect for this season!

• You heard her mention how she broke the Christmas story up for her kids when they were little. Here’s the resource for replicating that in your own home!

• The Andrew Peterson album we chatted about and you MUST listen to if you grew up on Rich Mullins. Or if you didn’t…it’s beautiful stuff.

• And the Fisher Price nativity that Jen hilarously called the “you can mess with this” nativity set.

A few Advent resources for learning more that I’d heartily recommend:

• Ashley Tumlin Wallace on the practice and history of Advent

• Kendall Vanderslice and any of her work around Advent and baking.

• Danielle Hitchin’s book Sacred Seasons. I consult this year round.

• Behold the Lamb of God album - blare it all season until your kids have memorized the entire line of David and you weep when he sings “Gather round ye children come, listen to the old, old story of the power of death undone by an infant born of glory…”

What does it mean to have a liturgical home? Or better yet, could someone please explain the word liturgical to me like I’m five?

Why would this even matter to a life of faith? It feels rather stiff and unemotional.

For the one who has ever pondered these questions AND for the one who already knows the answers—this episode is for you. At one time or another, I’ve been both.

I discovered the work of Ashley Tumlin Wallace earlier this year via my favorite place on the internet (Substack) and I was blown away by her depth and her accessibility. I knew right away that I wanted to invite her to the podcast because I wanted more people, namely those I love who listen to the show, to know about her work.

I don’t think there’s anyone out there talking and teaching more beautifully about how to center our lives around the liturgical Church calendar.

And this is holy work because it trickles down from the quiet spaces of our hearts that long to be a part of something grander than what we can see with our eyes. It settles into the every day rhythms of being a real live person and syncs us up with the movement of Christ’s Church around the world and for all of time.

In today’s episode, you’ll get to hear parts of Ashley’s story and her heart behind The Liturgical Home. I hope you’ll settle into it like you would settle under a fuzzy blanket with a cup of tea. Maybe throw in some dark chocolate if your day calls for it.

Either way, I know you’ll walk away with some rich resources and fresh ideas for how to cultivate a more intentional practice around the Church year.

You can connect with Ashley via Instagram or directly at www.ashleytumlinwallace.com.

Check out this post she created about Christ the King Sunday. Remember, this day is right around the corner on Sunday, November 23rd this year.

Also, she shared about the Daily Office app and here’s the place to find it.

Soak it all up because Advent is right around the corner and next week’s guest is a total delight. will help you consider how to embrace the season with intentionality and restfulness. She’ll also challenge you to cross some things off your list and don’t we all need to hear that? Can’t wait for you to listen…

So, what is birding, and what in the world does it have to do with hope? How could it possibly intersect with our experience of grief?

Today’s conversation with author and pastor Courtney Ellis will invite you into a world that is happening all around you, but you may have never noticed. Courtney shares how birding—or bird-watching for the newbies like me—is more than mere observation; it’s a deliberate act of attentiveness and presence. It awakens us to God’s good work in creation and allows us to settle into His care for us.

In the episode, Courtney explains how birding became a spiritual practice for her, especially during the heightened isolation of the pandemic and the wake of her grandfather’s death. Her story is one of hope and grief and delight with a side of practical application. This one might be the unicorn episode for those of you who need something to do with all your thinking…you know who you are.

Courtney Ellis is author, speaker, pastor, and host of “The Thing With Feathers Podcast.” She’s also a birder, encourager, and inspiration-giver based in Orange County, California where she lives with her husband (also a pastor!) and three children. Together they serve Presbyterian Church of the Master.

Courtney’s speaking credentials include Wheaton College, MomCo, faith-based retreats, women’s retreats, birding festivals, and dozens of churches, from mainline to evangelical. She holds a Master’s degree in English literature from Loyola University and a Master’s of Divinity from Princeton Theological Seminary, and her seven books have been published with Tyndale House, IVP, and Broadleaf.

In this episode, we chat mostly about her book Looking Up: A Birder’s Guide to Hope Through Grief. It’s lovely and available to read right now.

Connect with Courtney in all the ways you might connect with someone online:

• Substack

• Instagram

• Her Website

• Her podcast - The Thing with Feathers

And don’t forget to check out her book Looking Up: A Birder’s Guide to Hope through Grief. Oh and the Merlin app for your birding adventures!

In the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing more resources that will help you step into the liturgical new year. Christ the King Sunday and Advent are just around the corner and I can’t wait for you to hear from two guests who will brighten your imagination for how to engage with the new season!