I had not been planning to move while 21 weeks pregnant, completely upending my life right before it was about to change and expand with another baby. But every door in Florida closed and the one to the Lone Star State swung wide open. So we followed in obedience, leaving the burgeoning community we had found in Florida to start all over again.

With my second pregnancy, I was exhausted. If you are reading this and you are in your 20s, please have all your babies in your 20s because having only done this in my 30s, with each pregnancy getting a little harder, I think spring chicken me would have fared better. Baby 2 was also deeply lodged in my pelvic region, which gave me the worst pain of my life. I'd often end the day feeling like someone was tearing me apart at the pubic bone. It made chasing after a toddler tough.

It also made home management tough. I now had 3 extra bedrooms, a hallway, and a laundry room to keep tidy, as well as an expanded main living area compared to the two bedroom apartments we had been renting since we married. Oh, and I had a toddler. In this time, I read Phylicia Masonheimer’s Every Home a Foundation, desperate to find some type of rhythm in the midst of what felt like chaos. I read it but eight months pregnant me did not have the capacity to bring a rhythm to fruition, all while trying to meet people and prepare for a new baby. So I pushed it aside, accepting that I would just never be as productive or as put together as Mrs. Masonheimer. I got by on the haphazard schedule I had and made it work.

Then baby 2 rocked my world.

I'll make a post about the whirlwind of baby 2’s birth (I had her within 2 hours of waking up), but suffice to say she came a week and a day before 40 weeks and she came furiously.

By the time my husband went back to work 3 weeks later, I was drowning in overwhelm. I felt guilty about not having the time for my toddler, I was trying to manage her and a baby that I did not put down enough, and my house was a mess.

And I do not thrive well in mess.

Thankfully the postpartum anxiety was recognized far more quickly this time around, and I was willing to put my baby down so I could care for myself and my toddler1, but I was left floundering with what to do.

Simultaneously, I would watch the social media accounts of Masonheimer and Halberstadt and so many other mamas that not only functioned, but thrived and were productive. Here I was, crying most days at dinner at 4 pm sick with overwhelm and anxiety, trying to figure out why I was such a mess. Why I couldn't do motherhood with any semblance of sanity. Not sure if I could even handle the eventual 4 kids my heart desires.

Thankfully, Masonheimer in her book acknowledged what she and so many of these women I saw on my tiny phone screen thriving had, that I sadly did not: motherhood examples.

For me, feminism destroyed any hope of a true mothering example in my own mother, leaving me without an understanding of how to do any of this. I had no blueprint to pull from. Like Abraham and his going out where the LORD called, I, too, am trekking into the unknown.

The only difference is the pesky comparison game I play against those that have been blessed with a roadmap.

You Need A Career As A Backup

I was raised in a household where, for the most part, my mother was not home. Even now, talking with her is awkward because she really didn't manage a household throughout the week with small children past a few weeks of maternity leave. My mother was a career woman and returned to work when I was 12 weeks old, leaving me in the care of a babysitter.

This was not something she needed to do, truly. My dad was in the military and also worked during the week. But her work was her pride, her joy, and her identity. As much as now she seems to try to make me feel bad because I stay home and she did not, these were both very conscious choices we each made that required some level of sacrifice.

As a result of my childhood experience, I was determined to stay home with my kids. I don't have a lot of memories of being in the daycare when I was a small child, but the few I do have aren't great. I don't remember feeling overly loved, how I might have felt if I was being cared for by a family member, and I often felt a sense of fear that what I was doing what constantly wrong. I also have a lot of memories of Face from Nick Jr. and watching Gullah Gullah Island.

I remember only seeing my mom when I would crawl into the bathroom while she was taking her morning shower, enveloped by the warmth of the steam at 5:30 am. I watched The Magic School Bus with breakfast as she got ready for the day. And then it was off to day care until dinner time. I, again, don't have many memories of this. At some point during this time, my dad was out of work due to an injury, and he took care of us during the day for awhile. But, again, I don't remember much of that time period either.

By the time I was 5, we had moved from New York to Maine, where my parents spent about 3 years working in a group home for troubled boys. My life was chaos in this time. There was no consistent structure: some days we lived as a small family in the back apartment of a large Maine farmhouse while others were spent with the handful of teenage male delinquents in the main part of the house. Supper was always a different location. And sometimes my brother and I had to be locked away in the apartment style living space that was our family's quarters while my parents dealt with an out of control teenage boy.

After muddling through for a few years, my parents decided to move back to New York. Not too long after, my mom gave birth to my sister prematurely, those days of going back and forth to the NICU in the hospital to see her then to home for a bit and mostly school are all I can remember. It wasn't long when we got back that my mom took per diem work and by middle school, I was coming home to an empty house where something was stewing in a crockpot and mom wouldn't be home until 5:30 or sometime 6. At this point, my dad had already served one of his two tours in Afghanistan. He would go on to serve another and then ended up working downstate at a base where he would be home every other weekend by the time I was halfway through high school. My school and my teachers raised me, though I must compliment my parents that they did their best to be as involved in the education part of my experience as much as they could be.

There was no semblance of order or organization in my home. My mom often shirked these responsibilities in teaching how to care for a home by blaming my personality, that I didn't want to learn how to do it. That I was too impatient. So I learned how to cook chicken well from the Whole 30 book. How to clean by working several summers in a kitchen and helping turnover cabins at a family camp in the Adirondacks.

I had always wanted to be a stay at home mom. I was shamed for this in my home economics class when it came to our career planning unit (as if 6th graders know what they want to do with their lives anyway). It was what disappointed my mother, who always told me I needed to have a degree in order to care for myself when I get older because “you never know what could happen and you'll be left to take care of yourself”.

So here I stand at the precipice of having two children and trying to maintain a household with dreams of tending a garden and caring for chickens some day. Wanting to be productive in my every day life. With the goal of home educating the children God gives me without an reliance on AI or using a virtual learning platform to have someone else teach my children. And I am utterly overwhelmed and ill prepared, darting back and forth from an invisible center line like that old woman from Easy Bake Battle.

I stand with a Master's degree clutched in hand…and overwhelmed because I don't know the first thing about caring for a toddler and an infant at the same time. Fueled with what I've used before to try to learn how to care for a house — the internet— has only made childrearing a scary endeavor in which my kids can never for a moment be uncomfortable or left to cry because otherwise they will be traumatized. As a former traumatized child, I don't want that for them, and I am so afraid to mess them up, it's hard to see our circumstances are not even remotely the same.

And Now to Build a Place of My Own

I have returned to Masonheimer’s guidebook of encouraging mothers to find a rhythm. I haven't logged onto Instagram to scroll in over a month. I am slowly weaning my time down on Facebook. I have abandoned most of the Reddit forums I religiously visited with my first baby in order to try to figure this out on my own (though. shout out to the /exclusivelypumping sub that saved my butt and gave me a lot of hacks when nursing my first went sideways really quickly). I am already beginning to learn from other friends. Trying my best to take what works and leave what doesn't. I am trying to figure out a way to not feel enslaved to my children, but to find the healthy balance of servanthood and discipleship. Learning what works for us and leaving the rest behind.

I would love for an older, more experienced mama friend to come walk alongside me. I was so sad when we left Florida because I was beginning to meet these types of women who were starting to help me find joy in motherhood. I am prayerful that God will bring some into my life as we grow roots here in Texas.

And that I will begin to see that the weight of perfect motherhood is a crown I place on my own head. After all, Jesus told me that His yoke is easy and His burden is light ( Matt. 11:30). This heaviness and anxiety are not what I am called to live in.

So there will be days where my baby cries. She is okay. There will be days my toddler will not have all of my attention. She is okay. There will be moments I royally screw up as a mother. And the biggest difference between how I mother and how I was mothered will be recognizing when I am the sinful one, confessing it to my kids or to my husband and to God. Maybe all 3. Maybe multiple times a day. And I will be okay.

Maybe the postpartum anxiety I struggle through is meant to be my thorn2. Maybe there are parts of motherhood I have to lay down to God that aren't as glamorous as the moms I follow and try to emulate from afar. And that is okay. That is good. Because I am not them. And God's grace is sufficient for where I fall short all the same.

It does not mean I am to remain defeated3. It does not mean I should squander my talents because it feels safer or more comfortable to bury them in just trying to survive4.

I figured I also am not the only daughter of the 90s, a latchkey kid trying to figure out what it is to be home with children and manage a household because the woman who could have taught me how to do so dropped the ball for the altar of security and identity in vocation, not in the blessing of mothering. Maybe my muddling, the fears that I have of doing this wrong, of learning to lay it all down, can be an inspiration to another clueless daughter trying to become a housewife, caring for others while tending to souls.

And I hope to reflect on the failures as well as the victories. Because victories are nice, but they aren't ultimately what shape us. It is the grace and mercy of God in the face of our falling shorts that does.

I am allowing myself a final grace week of chaos as we approach Easter (in part because our family is getting over an illness that hit each and every one of us the past two weeks). And in the Spirit of Christ providing us a way to step into new life because of His sacrifice on Passover weekend, I am going to step into new life next week, following the daily house care rhythm Masonheimer lays out in her book, giving it a couple weeks of repetition as I work to develop a house caring rhythm of my own.

And by the grace of God and the spirit of working hard so as not to grow weary, I will put forth my best in the hopes that God in His power and wisdom furthers it to bring Him the glory.

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Let me start off with something really tangential:

I have come to loathe the radio. When I was a teen and in my early 20s, I enjoyed listening to secular radio (now’s the time to pick up your stones) because I did like most of the music being played. My parents always had Christian radio playing in the car (most of it was Focus on the Family, so it’s not like it was music, anyway), and I tried in my mid-20s to get back into Christian radio.

But I couldn’t. Because the number of times ONE song being replayed does to my soul what a tilt-a-whirl does to my stomach. And most Christian radio doesn’t even have the self-respect secular radio has to at least play current songs ad nauseum.

Now that there are AUX cords and Bluetooth functions in cars, this becomes less of a problem because I can just put on my playlist or podcast and not worry about what is happening on the radio.

However, I am married to someone who has once again tuned into Christian radio. So, when I don’t feel like gearing up the Spotify account on shorter car trips, I’m stuck listening to whatever is on. It’s usually about one of 5 songs, all of which have become so annoying (I don’t want to hear “Good Day” by Forrest Frank EVER AGAIN).

One that has been highly rage-inducing to me is Leanna Crawford’s “Still Waters”. Thank the blessed Lord that I only get to the first chorus, and I’m usually done with the song when I arrive at my location.

It’s taken me a while to figure out why I loathe this song so much (I’m sorry if I’m killing your joy, and this is your jam — please, by all means, continue to enjoy it, and you’re welcome to excuse yourself from my rant). I feel especially bad because the entire chorus is based on Psalm 23.

Only recently, after having a small epiphany after reading Room for Good Things to Run Wild by Josh Nadeau, did I realize why I hate this song so much.

It’s because it continues this horrid concept that we’ve started in the American Protestant church that there is nothing we need in the body, that all of the things we experience and feel are just things we need to master in the mind.

And yet, as I walk through therapy and learn how to reconnect with this corporal form I’ve been given to steward and trained to hate, I can see now where Crawford, like the Church, has been steering modern-day saints in so many wrong directions.

Repetition in the Mind Does Not Mean Acceptance in the Body

Perhaps because I’ve struggled with mental illness, particularly depression and now increasingly anxiety, and I’ve had to be medicated for and receive counseling to treat the conditions, it makes me more sensitive to off-base theology. And Crawford, for me, begins way off base.

Great Aunt Maurine said at a hundred and three
Write scripture on your heart for when you need it
'Cause anxiety hates Psalm 23
So just say it to yourself 'til you believe it

- “Still Waters”, Leanna Crawford

Let me start off with this — Aunt Maurine is correct. We do need to write Scripture on our hearts for when we need it. Sometimes it’s giving us the words to comfort someone, push back the enemy, or walk forward in confidence. Sometimes, it is fighting back against the identity being told to us by forces wanting to discount us in this fight against darkness.

But, dear Crawford and my readers — there may be times that the words of Psalm 23 alone do not defeat your anxiety. And just saying it to yourself will not make you believe or feel it anymore.

Stick with me; I’m not saying God’s Word isn’t powerful. But there are times when repeating something to yourself will not break that mind/heart barrier. It just isn’t. There’s a large part of me that sees this response and thinks back to all the times I was told to “just pray more” or that “clearly I wasn’t praying the right way” because my anxiety was not alleviated, the dark depression I was walking through did not blow away.

For some people, repeating Psalm 23 until you feel it will work. But my goodness, what a modern way of trying to understand Scripture. What a way to love God and feed our heart and soul at the neglecting of our bodies — when I am convinced that the part of this verse focuses most on David and his body.

You know— that thing we completely destroy in modern-day church. Whether that’s talking about the desires of the flesh and equating it with the drives and needs the body has naturally (because hunger, tiredness, weakness, and sex are neutral until we give them to one camp or the other). We gorge ourselves on our pizzas and our pies at potlucks and once a week at church meetings, and then we talk about how our bodies are just failing us as we do nothing outside of this to steward the gift that God has given us. We don’t even realize how much we’ve allowed secular ideas to invade the teachings of our church, until it’s become part and parcel, finding it’s way into the songs we play for ourselves or the literature we read.

You probably don’t even realize that the way you view the way you have been designed is more Greek in concept than biblical.

Platonic Beliefs

Think about what your belief is about the body.

While I am sure you did not have a sermon outright telling you what the body is in correspondence with Scripture, I can guarantee the attitude toward the body is the same way you are thinking about your body currently.

I would venture to guess that you view the body as merely a carrier for the soul — a place for this spirit God has created to be housed in until you can get to heaven and be freed from this sack of cells that limits you from all there is in the spiritual realm.

What if I told you, friend, that this view comes from Plato’s theory of the soul and is not, in fact, Scriptural? It was Socrates and Plato, those two great Greek thinkers (whose ways of rationalizing and finding answers in ethical arguments can lead back to God, as most ways of discovering Truth do) who founded and spread the idea that your body is just a house (or maybe “temple”) for the soul, trapping it and keeping it from everything it could be on this great mortal coil.

Nowhere in the Bible does it seem to suggest that our soul and our body are two distinct things, meant to be separated like a bird fleeing a cage. Look at the first few pages of Scripture:

…then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.

Genesis 2:7, ESV

At any point in this verse, do you notice where God first creates the soul (the breath of life, we may say) and then inserts it into this body that He formed?

I see God created both the body and the soul in one fell swoop, forming man and breathing life simultaneously, almost like we would need both body and soul to experience God.

Even looking back at the ancient Hebrew, חַיִּ֑ים (ḥay-yîm) is used to describe the breathing in of life, not נֶפֶשׁ (nephesh). חַיִּ֑ים refers to the presence of life in regards to being alive or being dead. God gave Adam life. When God formed Adam, we must then take into consideration that his נֶפֶשׁ, or his soul, was formed at the same time as his body.

Similarly, when studying the later commands on how we are meant to love God — body, soul, strength — it seems these parts are intended to work together. We are not meant to beat our body into submission to best obey God. We are called to use our body to experience and to explore what we know about Him.

While Jesus had to give up some of his omnipotence in order to walk in a fallen body (while He Himself did not sin, it does not mean that there were not aspects of Him that were affected by sin — for point in case, please look at the violent and brutal way in which He was sacrificed), it does not mean it was the body itself that was the horrible cage He had to lug around to better understand us.

He not only had to discipline and care for a body that grew hungry, tired, and weak, but He also had to care for a Spirit that would know sadness, pity, and anger. Yet we only focus on the fleshly aspects Christ partook in, and not the entire experience of being human.

In the miserably concise and non-descriptive English we use to understand the Bible, we see that Paul tells us we wrestle against the desires of the flesh. Yet when we read these passages, we tend to only focus on all the ways we fall short in our bodies. We make the physical manifestation the root of all of our sinfulness instead of a way we can glorify God on earth. It would be better for us to see what Paul is really saying — if we do not discipline the body, soul/heart, and strength to run a race bringing honor to the Kingdom of God, any part of these bodies can lead to sin and death.

Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Galatians 5:19-21, ESV

We focus on the sexual immorality, the sensuality (which I believe some people seem to mistake with the use of the senses), the drunkenness, orgies, and what we do with our bodies in anger. We look at this list, ignoring the mental games of rivalries, dissensions, division, and the heart postures of idolatry, enmity, and strife, and we conclude that it is because of our body we struggle with all of these sins. If we can be honest about the failings of our language, culture, and Scriptural understanding, it’s not our bodies but our heart postures that need discipline and taming.

More of us need to calm our bodies' internal and external structures to be better in tune with what is truly in the heart (which is best understood through the Jewish lens). Our internal worlds may be in chaos because of how our hearts were treated, raised, cultivated, or exposed to; we might need to do more than say a few words to ourselves and avoid sugar for 30 days. In modern-day therapy, this is work called “grounding,” or simply putting our bodies in tune with the feelings, sensations, and rhythms of the world around us. For King David, or even Aunt Maurine at 103, grounding was just a part of every day before modern-day life, and all the distractions of the industrial revolution and technology took over.

Grounding in Peace

I know I am being hard on Crawford, who just wanted to put together a song Christians would download to seek comfort. While music can be a way of relaxing the nervous system and finding some internal rest in a physical way, it isn’t going to provide serenity the way experiencing Psalm 23 in the world might do.

Crawford’s Aunt Maurine might have done better to encourage her offspring to embody the Scripture as much as memorize it. This is where we learn to go from the milk of babes, regurgitating words, to the meat of adulthood, experiencing God and all He has done for us. And a large part of what He has done for us, even before He formed us, was to create this great, big, beautiful world around us that can incite wonder, calm a harried soul, or provide peace amid chaos. A walk in the woods listening to only the bird song and the breeze in the leaves rarely adds to the stresses of everyday life.

It is no different with Scripture. When David was writing about being led beside still waters, he wasn’t just trying to convince himself he had nothing to fear. He had been there. As a shepherd out in the fields, guiding the flocks of sheep, he was able to use the ambiguity of poetry (and not the preciseness of prose) to explore the feeling he would get when sitting beside still water. The peaceful gurgling of the water over the rocks, the sighs of the sheep as they find a place of rest and safety. Tasting the coolness of the water on a hot day, the feeling of the gentle pools on tired feet. The rest that comes with finding oneself in a small alcove with clean water after a long trek. The unwinding of tension and, at last, relief. One cannot simply understand this by repeating over and over, “He leads me beside still waters” (Psalm 23:2). It is best understood by going to the calm waters.

It’s no different eating at a table of enemies — David would have experienced this as he sat at tables with King Saul. If we merely try to hide in the halls of our church and never engage with those around us, we will never be seated at enemies’ tables because we will be so well distanced from people seeking to misunderstand us. This doesn’t mean we wander into trouble, but we engage people with love and humility when we go out into our communities. Non-Christian workplaces, the gym, the park…our own neighborhoods. We will find that there will be those who oppose us and become our enemies in the strictest sense as they combat us. But it is only at those tables that we can see God preparing the table of blessing for us before them. That we can understand the peace and love of God following us to these places or through the darkest of valleys.

We cannot simply repeat the words of Scripture to ourselves. They need to become something to us, and that is going to take some effort on our part. Maybe it’s booking a weekend away in the woods where you can see the goodness of God in the quiet of the copse of trees. Or perhaps it’s simply getting out of the Christian bubble and engaging people where they are at, not where we want them to be. We need to ground our souls in the world around us (this does not mean we are growing the fruit of the world, we are simply growing where we are planted and remaining in the vine that trellises us in Truth as we do).

When Strivings Cease (Because They Should)

There is so much in neuroscience to support the ideas of grounding, of being in the world God created and seeing its profound impact on the body.

Perhaps, instead of shying away from this, it would give us a better understanding of the world that was commonplace for the writers of the Bible, increasing our biblical literacy. We are so far removed from the culture, the language, and the world these people wrote in. Trying to understand this language with modernity will lead to what modernity offers— anxiety, perfectionism, striving.

And, ultimately. Aunt Maurine’s prescription is striving. You cannot always repeat words ad nauseam until it just one day makes anxiety go away. There is more nuance to the way that God created us. You may need to connect with calm waters and green valleys, you may need a diet change or medication to begin to break conditioning and generational curses, you may need to pray that the enemy keeps back his demons from assaulting you (they may not be able to inhabit you, but that does not keep them at bay from attack), or it may be a thorn in the side you have to wrestle with the rest of your life as you learn to daily put your trust in God. If this is a thorn, it’s doubtful Psalm 23 is going to make it go away.

The only way to know what prescription is going to work for this particular wounding (among a host of others) is prayer, engaging God, and trying varying remedies as you step out, wanting to experience and trust God in a real way, in the real world.

I hate to have more superficial answers for hurting people in the church that aren’t going to make a lick of difference; as a millennial who is seeing so many people ‘deconstruct’ in part because they were given such horrid ways of coping or working through issues, I don’t want to see this continued.

I am sure there will be people reading this who will think that I am being too picky or sentimental. That’s okay. I am willing to bet a lot that they’ve never struggled with life-altering anxiety and depression (the kind where leaving the house or getting out of bed is a huge task and is avoided for as long as possible). As someone who has continuously struggled with many of these mental health issues due to myriad reasons — physically, psychologically, and spiritually — I’d like to see us have a holistic revolution of the human condition and how to invite God in.

And that begins by letting the body back in with the mind, strength, and soul.

Authors: Dave and Ann Wilson

Beneficial For: married couples where both spouses faithfully practice living out their Christian walk, engaged couples who are both Christians, couples where one spouse did not come from a faith background

Warnings To: married couples where only one spouse is saved or faithfully practices, women with higher sex drives in their relationship, dating couples

Dave Wilson was well known for being a chaplain for the Detroit Lions several years before moving on to become the founding pastor of the Kensington Church. He and his wife, Ann, have since taken as the hosts of FamilyLife, a Cru ministry.

I’ve seen Vertical Marriage recommended several places, including the Weekend to Remember ministry that Cru puts on through FamilyLife. I read through the book in the month of January, taking away a couple of good insights, but leaving a bit disappointed overall.

Helpful Hints

But without the Vertical — without God in the first place — we search for life where there is no life…where there is no higher point of grace to create room for growth, forgiveness, and movement.

Vertical Marriage 35

One of the first points I appreciated about Vertical Marriage was how vulnerable and real the Wilsons were. Both of them have spent their entire marriage serving in ministry, most notably marriage ministry. At no point, however, did they cite their credibility because of what they did right. Instead, there was so much they did wrong.

The Wilsons start off the novel with a recap of their 10th anniversary celebration. At this point, the two of them had been surviving through Dave retiring from football after an injury and then pivoting to serving as a chaplain for the Detroit Lions, which required him to be gone with the team many weekends throughout the year, leaving Ann with their three young boys on her own and away from family fairly often. Dave was riding the career high, and with that, the often accompanying ignorance for how his abandoned and left behind wife was feeling. Ann was filled with resentment and feeling neglected, so when Dave tried to perform a big romantic gesture on their anniversary night, it failed. Miserably.

Dave and Ann spend a good portion of part one of the book exploring how the unaddressed expectations of marriage they entered their union with, combined with the families of origin they came from, sabotaged their relationship.

It left both of them at the very end of their relationship rope, with Ann ready to bail at the end of 10 years. Both of them are very candid with the uncaring, unkind, and unproductive things they have said to one another. I know that it is supposed to be off the table to talk about divorcing — but that is unhelpful advice when you have reached that point in marriage or when you’ve already broken that “cardinal” sin having said the words. I’ve been there, at the end of my rope, saying that I wanted to be done because I don’t want to stay in the loveless relationship my parents have been in for decades. So when I’ve gone to meetings or had friends counseling me about how we should never say this — it’s too late, we are too far gone, where do we go from here?

The Wilsons have the answer to that in the book. Despite all of the really troubling things they’ve said to one another, and the ways they’ve neglected, humiliated, and hurt one another — they were able to make it. They were able to come back from too far gone and course correct. This is what couples need to hear. Not the dos and don’ts of what not to do, never, ever. In counseling, you learn not to make absolute statements — such as never and always — so can we stop saying that in marriage coaching?

Part two is also a realistic and well-researched wealth of advice. The Wilsons soberingly explore how their families of origin impacted their fighting styles, and what they brought to the conflict ring that was not beneficial. I have sat through and read some marriage content recently that seems to brush off counseling and therapy as a worldly way to approach conflict. But I can say from personal and friend experience that having those counseling sessions can save relationships and help heal a couple more than just attending a couple’s group at church can. The Wilsons’ exploration of hurts and the need for Godly counseling to help process things such as forgiveness, conflict styles, and communication is not only helpful; it is something I think will break down the continued reticent attitude of Christians toward counseling.

The reason this works is that the Wilsons’ overarching theme of their resource is that we need vertical love and vertical help. We cannot fulfill our spouse, make them joyful, or meet all their needs — and they will never be able to do that for us. In order to have a functional relationship, we both need to go to God to have those demands met so we can better relate to and communicate with one another. God needs to be the focus of our lives to receive the healing and guidance at the end of the day to help strengthen the horizontal marriage between husband and wife.

The Wilsons also have cited examples of taking some of their acknowledged hurt or frustrations to the Lord to help them work through those issues. This is the answer that couples need to get through at the end of the day and practice for the rest of their relationship together. The Wilsons do well in demonstrating this as they cite even recent issues they have had with one another that ultimately needed to be solved by bringing their issue, frustration, or troubles back to God.

Many times, the Wilsons are able to find the answers to marital peace and joy through getting on their knees together to bring their problems to the One Who Can Solve Them.

Hopeless Hurdles

This is one of the parts that would cause me to struggle to recommend this resource to any and all couples. This is a great resource for couples that work together on their relationship in all aspects — spiritually as well as emotionally and physically.

If you are the spouse who is working on the marriage relationship without the teamwork of your partner, this resource can be extremely deflating. The Wilsons turn to prayer — but they turn to prayer either together or individually at times that are close to one another. They have not wandered through their marriage relationship where one spouse is willing to pray and engage in bible reading with their partner, but their partner is unwilling or unmotivated to do the same. There is a lot of beauty in praying together with your spouse. But what about the spouse that is spending years reading their bible alone, praying alone, feeling like they are going as Vertical as possible, but because their spouse is keeping things pretty horizontal, it’s not blessing their overall relationship?

This happens in a lot of relationships where one spouse is spiritually invested and the other is either lapse, dead, or not even a Christian. This can happen in many ways, but this book has only one throwaway line at the end of the book that, if this is their readers’ predicament, to keep going vertical all the same.

But how?

The Wilsons’ throwaway of many relationships is littered throughout Part Three: Intimacy. Ann is clearly the much lower sexually driven spouse, while Dave has the culturally acceptable (I am not going to say common or even normal, because honestly, I don’t believe this is the truth) position of being the husband who wants sex every day at the drop of a hat.

One of the parts that is especially insulting is the chapter where Ann talks about the many ‘bags’ she carries throughout the day as the spouse who is the primary caregiver for the children as well as the keeper of the house. At the end of the day, she has all this luggage she is carrying as her mental load, so when Dave arrives with his one luggage of “sex”, she just can’t handle one more thing. He is offended, turns over, and picks up his sleep luggage while she juggles another suitcase of guilt. She then makes a throwaway line that “well, some relationships are flipped” when it comes to who is carrying the luggage of sexual desire in relationships.

This is such a blatantly negligent and careless misunderstanding of flipped desires. Often, higher sexual desire wives still carry all of that luggage. They are the ones who take care of appointments, clean the house, make dinner, do the laundry, making sure everyone is where they need to be — while also remaining extremely aware of how much they would like to pick up that “sex” luggage their husband could care less about picking up but knowing that if they do, they will either be too exhausted to initiate the experience (and they are continually the only ones that do) or risk the embarrassment of being turned down while still juggling everything else. They then go to bed, usually sexually unsatisfied and ashamed because their husband doesn’t want sex with them —but they still want everything else. I wish Ann Wilson and Dave would address this harmful part of their book and include more perspectives or more neutral ones. I know at the end of their resource, they say they are not going to represent all relationships, but my goodness, experts like Shaunti Feldhahn and Dr. Juli Slattery are discovering that higher desire wives make up 25% of marriages — sure, that is not the “majority” statistic wise, but it’s a fair amount of couples. And the other 75% isn’t higher desire husbands. There is a good portion of the population that is pretty evenly matched when it comes to spouses. So when you spend four chapters waxing about how Dave just thinks about sex alllllll the time with Ann, woof, that may be the reality in their relationship, but it ignores a good portion of marriages and leads to further shaming and hiding of marriages that don’t have this dynamic.

The same could be said about Dave’s “neck problem” chapters. While some of this absolutely is generational — Dave is in his 60s and did not grow up with the accessibility of porn that Millennials, Gen Z, and Gen Alpha grew up with — the pervasiveness and hurt of porn-addicted husbands (and wives) in marriages is more prevalent than the Wilsons really address. And Dave graciously took Ann’s ire toward it until he got serious. There is little direction for the countless spouses who have a partner who is addicted and either doing little to nothing about it. Nor are they willing to acknowledge or hold space for the pain it causes their spouse. Again, I am not expecting Dave and Ann to fix and solve all relationship issues, but when you spend chapters on struggles that are not the wide experience of people in the church, it feels a little tone-deaf.

Would I Recommend?

Yes.

Overall, despite the Wilsons’ hiccups with intimacy (something I would have less issue with if they didn’t dedicate an entire part and 4 chapters to), there is some really good wisdom to glean in Parts 1 and 2, especially in regards to Part 2.

I think this resource just needs to be recommended with care. I absolutely would not recommend this to dating couples because I think the topics are best suited for those who are seriously marriage-minded or are already in a marriage relationship. I would not recommend this for spouses that are the ones solely pursuing faith in their marriage as I believe it can lead to greater discouragement and unhelpful comparison. And I would not recommend this for couples with intimacy issues. Even those with the louder discrepancy of insatiable husbands and burnt-out wives, the suggestions in their conclusions are relatively unhelpful and don’t really even focus on the vertical.

But for couples that are both pursuing The Lord, want to do a study together, and engaged couples working with a serious pastor on building their future marriage on God, this would be a valuable resource.

If you would like me to review a Christian living resource — whether it’s a book on Spiritual Disciplines, Church History, Marriage, or Living — please let me know in the comments or send me a message.

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I was at the end of myself, ready to walk into new life, but I wasn’t through the most arduous part of bringing this new life. I had a final crucible to be molded in. And I would come to realize I was so thankful to the midwife and the people that God sent me to. I would need them more than I would ever be able to anticipate.

At this point in my labor journey, I began to panic. I could tell that my baby was not descending, and the birth pangs were coming sharp and fast. I thought to myself I cannot do this for another day or longer— I am going to fail. I begged God to hear my cry.

And then I do what I often do— I ask God for help and then take things into my own hands, never having patience to wait and see how He responds.

I told my doula and my husband that I wanted out of the water. I got out. I drank some water. I paced about the room. I then begged to be brought to a shower so I could search for some relief from the pain that felt never-ending. I ran through the birth center (which, thankfully, was empty). I distinctly remember going down the hallway, past the exam room. One of the birth assistants was lying on a settee with a coat over her, trying to get some sleep as I barged past the couch and the empty second birthing room into the bathroom tucked behind the administrative office. My husband was on my heels, trying to offer some help. He stood with me as I tried to find some relief I was unable to find among the jets of water.

Full panic took over, and I charged out of the shower, back up the hallway, and into the original birthing room. At this point, I thought for sure this would end up with a transfer, and I would have failed at the one thing I told everyone I would do. I was crying and could feel my anxiety rise as a panic attack set in.

At this moment, Lucie confidently entered the room. I distinctly remember her saying, “You asked for Jesus’ help, and He sent me.” At this point, her no-nonsense nature took over, and she directed me to squat. I was having none of that. She then tried to send me to the toilet, and I was having none of that. She then stopped me.

“You are having a trauma response to what you are going through. You are feeling all this pain coming at you, and you are doing all you can to get it to stop; you are trying to get away. This is not something you can run away from, but together, we are going to get through this.”

She then directed me to push. “I don’t often direct women to do this, but you need to regain some control. So you are going to push. And if you don’t do it on your own, I am going to have you lay down, I will hold you open, and we will do it together.”

The thought of her touching below my waist again was something I very much did not want. So, with fear coursing through my veins and wanting this to be over, I happened to squat on the bed, praying fervently to God for this to be over, and I pushed.

At this point, we all heard a pop, and the water that we thought for sure had been depleted by the water bag tear1. This is also what had kept my baby from descending to be born. As soon as my waters broke (and saturated the bed right next to the puppy pad meant to catch leaks — sorry, Lucie!), my baby descended, and it was time to start pushing.

At this point, I was depleted. I wanted to get her out and take a break from the pressure and the wandering. I lay first on one side and then another, flipping this way and that to figure out what exactly my body wanted to do. I finally settled on my left side, Lucie holding my leg bent at an angle above me, and my doula holding my hand. I was following through on the instinct to push, frustrated by the ‘turtling’ that baby was doing. Filled with a desire to be done, I mustered the energy to give one big push.

The ring of fire is something that does indeed happen. But for women that have given birth, at this point, you’ve just accepted it’s going to be a thing, and it was far easier to embrace than the pelvic contractions. Another push and she was through — or at least I had hoped.

In my exhaustion, I didn’t realize that shoulders would also take a little more of a push. My daughter also gave me false hope as she let out a cry as soon her head had emerged, causing Lucie to exclaim, “Well, that was early!”.

“Is she here yet?” I asked cautiously. When Lucie responded with “No, just her head,” all I could think about was my mother-in-law telling me my husband had massive shoulders. I groaned inwardly and then pushed again.

In my delirium — and I think fear — I had a moment where I hadn’t connected that I had delivered a baby. I had a moment where I legitimately thought the midwife had delivered me of another — ahem — bodily substance and that birth was still imminent. However, upon my scrambled brain regaining some composure, I looked down to see that Lucie held up to me a squalling purplish baby with a little squashed face. My brain could not compute further what had happened as it began to descend into shakes.

“Here is your daughter!” Lucie exclaimed. I looked over at my husband at this point, who was crying (even though he had been spared the death grip I had on my doula’s hand as I had been pushing). But my brain could not fathom that I had delivered a baby.

Everyone’s attention turned to the little crying baby, and all I could think to say was that my husband needed to cut the cord. My husband rounded the bed to cut the cord. All the while, I was in another dimension (from the combination of a hit of dopamine and pure exhaustion), delivering my placenta quickly and quietly. I was astounded at how quickly all of this process had come to an end.

As the midwife and birth assistants did all the necessary first checks to hand over my baby for me to hold for a moment, my body continued to shake. No one had warned me about all of this, so let a sister in Christ tell you what can happen — as you come down from all these high emotions and hormones, you can get the shakes. My body was quivering like I had stepped outside into frigid weather, which I was unprepared for. The birth assistants quickly wrapped me up in blankets, handing my daughter over to my husband to hold while they continued to perform checks on me to ensure my well-being. Most of these moments are a blur to me; I mostly remember getting my baby back in my arms, bundled up, as the midwife and assistants set us up to take our golden hour in the room in the light of the dawn.

At this point, all of the chaos in the room ceased. We had begun our golden hour with our firstborn little baby — an 8 lb 10 oz little girl born with all of her fingers and toes, wriggling in my arms after she entered the world with full force and speed. I wish I could describe to you what this hour was like: a glimpse into the life of parenthood we are currently living: simultaneously a long hour and the shortest moment of my life. It was filled with quiet awe, looking at the little girl with a squishy little face in my arms, her body slowly becoming less purple in time with my body quieting from the shakes.

The morning I had planned to spend sleeping in was one where I was greeting the dawn with a small bundle of joy and hope in my arms. Little did I know I would walk through some of the most challenging months of my entire life after this initial trial by fire. But this one morning, as we walked out of the birth center at around eight with a full car seat in hand, a new season was dawning in our own lives, rising with the glorious sun.

Equipped for More

The beauty of childbirth is not only the way in which we learn to suffer like Christ did. Women in labor, exhausted no matter how long the process, wanting to take a break, going through the hard work, come to the end of themselves in such a short span of time.

It brings Philippians 4:13 to a genuine head, as we consider the trials and tribulations Paul walked through as he learned what he was able to do through Christ:

I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Philippians 4:10-13

I realized that women must learn to rely on something to give them strength. My mother-in-law tells me the story of bringing in a picture of Jesus to look at — the very Catholic version — when she was in labor with my husband. While she tells the story with a laugh, it’s true. We need to focus on something. For some women it’s “positive affirmations” or “mantras” that tell them what they can do in their own power. For others, who seek the truth, it’s the affirmations and reminders that we cannot do this on our own, but we need the comfort and peace of God.

When we walk through labor, we walk through one of the longest and toughest trials on our body, mind, and spirit we will ever walk through as women. The saddest part is that we often ignore how very spiritual this process is.

Because with each birth, we have the opportunity to grind that snake’s head further into the dirt, beneath the weight of the victory of Christ and the prayers of all the saints. Those of us who have a saving knowledge of where our Hope comes from are an even greater threat to the enemy, and I think Satan especially wants to prey on this vulnerable time in our lives where much good is happening. He wants to deceive us, like he did in the garden, that we can do this all on our own. That this little trial proves how very great and strong and awesome we are on our lonesome. The pride of life (1 John 2:16) that has us fooled into believing our bodies are cosmic entities of great power, a goddess within us leading us through a life-giving act of self-denial. Twisting the goodness of the truth of God designing women as the jewel of His creation, giving her access to a taste of the suffering of Her Savior her husband may never endure, and walking with her through the self-denial that comes with giving life, an act of mirroring the blessing God gives to His people.

Labor teaches us the lesson that becomes pertinent in parenting — we really cannot do this on our own. While we may have the physical strength to deliver, so many women still face fear and anxiety and apprehension when they enter the throes of labor. It is why I believe birth has developed into a distinctly group dynamic when left to its own devices — women need other women with knowledge and foresight to help them walk through it. We need the community of the body leading us to communion with Christ in these most holy and sacred moments. It is often recommended that you invest in a doula (as I did) to help you work through each labor pain and to help you stick with the plan that you made before the pain and the fear settle in. And I truly believe you need to find a woman who will lead you to the truth of where your strength and power come from during these hours — not the inner goddess inside, but the wonderful grace of our God.

Pain and fear do not need to reign. They do not need to be what marks labor and birth — yet we see culture and society propagate this lie. In part, because birth is offensive to the old snake in the garden, but also in part because so many women enter labor without acknowledging the strength and the hope of the Lord.

It was in those moments of me crying out to Him that He could answer. He sent me help in the form I needed. He provided me the ability to have the will to deliver my baby this side of Heaven.

My only prayer is that I do not forget that in the years to come of thriving and prosperity that I still need Him to help me work things toward His glory and victory, as much as I needed Him in the pain and energetic poverty of labor. Every moment of motherhood is made possible only through the power of Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection, Who is sanctifying me. There will be seasons of highs and lows; there will be years of need and abundance. My hunger may not be physical, nor my filling by food alone. May I be reminded, as I think back to those desperate hours of life, that none of this is achieved without His ultimate provision.

Without His provision, there is no glory to be given to God. At the end of the day, I pray that this story of bringing forth life highlights the coming of the Kingdom of God to earth, the abounding of God’s blessing, and the Hell-charging-fury of new life, a new heart that will prayerfully make its way to God’s Kingdom in the years to come. In all of this suffering and joy, may God be given glory. Amen.

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The LORD had heard my cries. There wasn’t going to be a need to measure amniotic fluid or to start any form of induction. My body was going through the motions of welcoming our baby to earth, whether my mind was ready or not

I was dumbfounded that, apparently, I had been in labor the entire day. I explained to Lucie, my midwife, that I thought they were Braxton Hicks because I didn’t have bloody show. She asked if she could do a cervical sweep, to which I said okay (things were already underway, so why not)1. The sweep was…intense. And that’s when Lucie realized how incredibly high my pain tolerance was. As she finished the sweep, my bloody show appeared.

It turns out that what had probably happened was that because of the car accident, my bag of waters tore at some point. Probably at the top of the sac, so my daughter was naturally plugging the hole. The water would trickle out when she moved her body, and the movement would cause some of the fluid to leak out. It’s why I was having small leaks throughout the day and not a big burst of a bag breaking.

After explaining what had likely happened, the midwife said, “Well, you’re having a baby tonight.”

My husband stood to go and get the bags he had sagely packed in the back of the car while also calling our doula to meet us at the birth center. And the fear that I was not ready. that there was no way I was actually prepared to take care of another human being, began to flood my body. But it was too late — we had crossed that road 39 weeks prior (technically 37 — why did we let men make decisions anything to do with pregnancy and postpartum?), and it was time to welcome the daughter we had been waiting and anticipating.

The time to panic had long since passed, and the hard work was ahead. Our doula arrived several minutes later (she was up the road at a dinner with friends celebrating her own birthday, which was that day). The doula and Lucie explained that, while I had progressed quickly, I still had some progress to make before our baby would be here. It was time to get some rest.

The pains had progressed from Braxton Hicks squeezes to feeling more like period cramping. I figured if this was the worst that the labor could get, I could handle this. The pain wasn’t too severe, and I’m sure it would just kick up later before delivery, but that would mean I was close to the end. With this prideful thought and exhaustion, my husband and I settled into the queen bed in the birth center room to try to get some sleep. Despite the cramping and the sound of another family entering the second room in the birth center, I drifted off to sleep.

Rude Awakenings

I was awoken a couple of hours later with a vice grip on the psoas muscles in my groin. It took me a moment to realize that this was the labor everyone had told me about. I felt another contraction wrack my pelvis and turned to my husband, waking him to let him know it was time.

I queued up my phone, where I had created a worship playlist to direct my mind to seek Holy Help. Simultaneously, I was trying to tap into all the information I had gleaned from the course I had studied by Karen Welton at Pain Free Birth2, knowing that if I had been hit my train of pain so suddenly, I couldn’t be that far away.

Except, I was further than I thought. I had awoken at about one ’o’clock in the morning with a type of pain that no one on my labor team could help me with. I’ve heard about the struggles of back labor, that it feels like a woman’s spine is being crushed, and the best way to relieve the discomfort is by counterpressure or water pressure. The way my contractions were hitting, along my psoas, made it feel like the tops of my legs where they joined at my groin were being torn off. There was no relief that pressing on my back or hips could relieve, so my best hope was water.

Thankfully, the birth center I had chosen had a large clawfoot tub. The doula set to work filling the tub, along with a couple of birth assistants. I breathed and groaned through each contraction, trying to relax to help my body open up more. Every time I made a little bit of progress — I had to go to the bathroom.

This is a TMI tidbit about me, so feel free to skip it, but I hate anything to do with fecal matter. It skeeves me out, it disgusts me. I make my husband put the toilet seat down to flush and used to keep my toothbrush in a drawer (when it wasn’t electric) because the thought of any airborne substance getting on my bristles made me nauseous. My worst fear in labor was that I would end up pooping myself when pushing. I had been horrified to learn that this can happen to women when I was 14 years old. I never wanted it to happen to me. When I binged through Call the Midwife, I thought the idea of enemas in the early stages of labor was fantastic. My body apparently took note.

Every time I felt the urge to use the toilet, I would go in and shut the door. No one was allowed in with me — not my doula, not my midwife, not the birth assistants, and especially not my husband. And every time I sat on the toilet to go, the pangs became worse. They don’t call the porcelain throne “the dilation station” for nothing in the birthing world.

Once my body had flushed out everything I thought it could, and the tub was filled, I got in. What I didn’t realize about the tub was that it had to be kept at around body temperature degrees so that if you birthed underwater, the baby wouldn’t be shocked. This typically wouldn’t be a problem for me, because I always struggled with being cold, except that in labor I was burning up. I had the birth assistants turn the room so cold that my furnace of a husband was forced to put on a sweatshirt.

I could only endure the heat of the tub for so long, and it was doing little to stop the crushing of my pelvis. So after a time, I got out, feeling defeated that I wouldn’t be able to have my baby in the tub but wanting to cool off. I returned to walking about the room, trying the toilet once again to encourage contractions to push my baby down. My husband and doula followed helplessly as I sought comfort all about the room. Around this time, I felt the need to use the toilet again and hurried into the bathroom, my stomach rolling.

Tough Transitions

It was at this point, sitting on the toilet, that I realized that I was going to puke. I had heard this was a phenomenon that could happen when women went into transition, which is the final stage of labor. At this point, the baby drops into the birth canal and you are minutes — or sometimes hours — away from bringing baby into the world. I tried my best to lose the rest of what was in my stomach into the tiny trash can, but I could barely hold myself up. I had been going through the tough stages of labor for several hours at this point on about two hours of sleep and a week of no rest, so I was exhausted.

At this point, I was brought to the point of humility. I had to call for my husband, who quickly came in with an emesis bag. I utilized it with everything I had left and had to clean up the rest of myself from using the toilet. I was so tired; I was completely naked by this point (because I was so hot), and I wanted this ride to be over. My original birth plan included declining cervical checks during labor, but I knew I needed some good news while I struggled with the crushing pelvic labor. Having more information, and a desperate need to be encouraged, I consented to lying down and having a check performed. Lucie was sure before she performed it that I was 10 cm just by my symptoms and the way I was acting, but I needed that assurance. After an uncomfortable moment, she could confirm it was go time.

Except one problem: I could tell from knowing my body that baby had not descended. I was 10 cm, but she was in no way showing that she was ready to make an appearance.

Another pelvic crushing contraction gripped me, and I began to panic.

I decided I wanted to try the tub again. I laid back in the hot water, assaulted once more by the feeling of being consumed by a fire. Amid this pain and frustration, I tried to process all that I had learned through my study and prayer about birth.

A Unique Walk With Christ

As I lay in that tub, I thought back to the very first woman. Eve. She had no experience on which to base any of this. She only had Adam for help, but she somehow survived. How could Eve do this; did she have some presence of God that I didn’t feel like I had at that moment? Was she given some relief because she was the first one to give birth? Certainly, God did not abandon the woman He had created so uniquely and given the prophecy of bringing redemption to mankind through in such a confusing and great time of need?

And then there was Mary. She did this on her own— no midwife, no other women — in a dirty stable. She didn’t have a bed to lie back on or water to try to relieve the birthing pains. Yet she delivered the man that would bring us life after so many generations of death.

At that moment, I knew that I needed help. So I began to pray aloud, “Jesus, help me! I can’t do this.”

He brought to mind the beauty of this unique journey we go on as women, one that gives us a better understanding of who He is and what He did for us.

Much like birth, Jesus knew that there would come a time when He would go through physical pain. He was going to be beaten, whipped, spat on, kicked, and forced to drag along a huge wooden cross. He did not enter the ordeal with fear and begging for a little sedative for it all to be over. He embraced that in order to bring life to another, it would require pain. And that pain would lead to the end of Himself. It would lead to death before it would lead to Resurrection that would bring life to us.

As Isaiah 53 prophesies — Jesus did not bring us to life without suffering on our behalf.

Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:4-5, ESV)

The birthing process mirrors this in such a beautiful way, if we can take a moment to appreciate the experience instead of allowing the world to fill us with dread and fear toward God’s design. We women, while most will not physically die, are brought to the death of self after an arduous physical task. When we give birth to that baby, the old self dies. We are no longer the woman we used to be before bringing this new life to fruition; no matter how hard we try to chase our former selves, that girl is dead and gone. Yet we are resurrected to a new sense of self; to motherhood, a new way of looking at the world (the amount of television shows and movies I can’t watch anymore without bawling because I now so painfully relate to grieving or injured parents is embarrassing to admit).3 If we can turn this new existence over to Christ, He is going to redeem it in the most beautiful of ways. And He will show us the beauty of what it is to provide life to another.

When we die to our old selves and resurrect as new women, we also provide life to another. It’s an amazing, sacred process that I don’t think we in the church have enough reverence for. And if we recognized it for the sanctifying act it can be, we would realize that God and His Way yet again elevate women to a place of respect and adoration. We are the crowning jewel of His creation yet again, intimately understanding the path Christ took.

And how sanctifying the act truly is. We do not mentor or train our women well in tis fashion either; at least, I had been neglected in any mentoring or shaping in positive ways in this story. I felt desperately alone, unable at this moment to connect with Christ and his suffering. Here I was, in the midst of my pain, wishing it would go away. Wanting to get some relief. Crying out in my own way “Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?”

But God had not forsaken me at this moment, and He knew what suffering I was enduring in order to bring life and hope to another. I wish I could say this was the cure that brought peace and calm leading to a quiet, reserved labor. Unlike Christ, I am human and my death brings along with it my suitcase of trauma and pain and suffering. She becomes the imperfect embodiment of the new creation we should become when we accept Christ:

2 Corinthians 5:17: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (ESV)

I was at the end of myself, ready to walk into new life, but I wasn’t through the most arduous part of bringing new life. I had a final crucible to be molded in. And I would come to realize I was so thankful for the midwife and the people that God sent me to. I was going to need them more than I could have ever anticipated.

To be finished next installment.

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Part of the reason I have been absent from my blog the past couple of years (aside from teaching at a private school in which there is zero work/life balance) was due to the excitement of September 2023 when my husband and I welcomed our first child — a beautiful baby girl.

To say that this adorable human being has been a source of healing and joy in my life from her conception would not even scratch the depths of her cathartic existence.

And how God has done some of the most sanctifying and hard work on me that I have ever encountered in my life.

Before I Formed You…I Set You Apart

My husband and I had been given sage advice from a friend of mine — wait until about the 3rd year mark of marriage to have a baby. At that point, you’re out of your honeymoon stage (if you’ve had the blessings of having one) and more in the rhythm of marriage when adding a large wrench into the system shouldn’t upend you too much.

We would be celebrating our 3rd wedding anniversary in June of 2023 and felt like we had navigated some of the ‘hard’ of marriage and were ready to start a family. I was very ready. Baby fever had hit me hard.

We began trying at the beginning of the year and were quickly pregnant (thank you functional medicine and leaving birth control in the long past!).

When I found out I was having a girl at my 20 week ultrasound scan (the one and only scan as I received care from certified midwives at a stand-alone birth center), I had gender disappointment. I know that this is something we usually make fun of the men for having when finding out the gender, leading to shaming and belittling them for wanting a boy, but that was my dream. I wanted to be a boy mom, to deal with the rough and tumble of raising precocious little men who I would train up to become good leaders in society. I wanted to make a difference with boys.

And I felt utterly unqualified to have a girl. I was the oldest, a girl born into crushing generational sin and trauma, and I was so unprepared to raise a girl. When I was going through it as a young woman, I was constantly nitpicked for my looks, taunted to tears at the dinner table, and reminded that I wasn’t the catch with the boys — all by my mother. I endured the constant bullying at school because I wasn’t the pretty girl on the block (and I was oh so painfully awkward to boot) and then would come home to an even larger adversary. I could not deal with the “drama” that came with girls; I did not want to think about having to navigate my daughter through catfights.

I did not want to have people tell her she was going to be the “ugly duckling” just like her mother — the one who wasn’t nice to look at when young but who may grow into a more acceptable-looking adult. I didn’t want her to be left out as groups of other young girls gossiped and giggled about her in the corner. I didn’t want to have a girl who could potentially go through all the pain I had endured, all the trauma I was trying to work out so it could stop coloring the world I was living in and kept me living in fear, hypervigilant and afraid to trust.

Yet here I was — having a baby girl. My gender disappointment wasn’t because she was flawed from the start. It’s because I was.

Looking back, that was right where God had planned me to be. He saw all that I had endured because of my gender at the hands of an insensitive matriarch, He saw how I witnessed the cruelty that can come with girl cliques and circles, and He saw just how much it had grieved me at times to be a woman because it felt like I had these impossible standards I needed to achieve - heightened as a single girl in the conservative community. He knew that I wouldn’t know how to do better on my own.

By His Grace However - I don’t think I’ve inherited the cold detachedness of the feminine example I saw in the house. I’ve never had a desire to run a household or be the breadwinner, a feat that was demonstrated for me and pushed into me at a young age. He somehow brought me out of that home, wanting to do better, be better, and actively looking for ways to seek healing.

Even now, with this beautiful baby girl playing the cymbals loudly in front of me as I type, I know that I will not fail her the way that I was failed. When she has big emotions, I will do the foreign work of going down to her level or letting her have her moment to work through them. I do not need to jab. I can defend her when she is voiceless at this tender age, and teach her how to advocate for herself when she has the words and ability to do so. I can nurture relationships with other young women by allowing her to spend time with them outside of church events; I can foster a community of love and kindness within my own daughter and pray she attracts the same.

And I will do something when I see her struggling. If she has the mood disorders I had as a teen, we are going to talk with someone. I am already taking steps to avoid her developing an autoimmune condition that has made my weight and complexion a battle. So that she can remain healthy— the most attractive a person can be. I will not sit back and see her struggle and laugh.

There is so much more God can teach me in my weakness as a mom who was not adequately taught to parent a young woman. His grace will be sufficient where my ability is lacking.

Pleasing Man Before God

The gender disappointment was not the only part of pregnancy I struggled with, perhaps the biggest obstacle I wrestled around was ignoring exactly how I was feeling and what was going on in my body and my head.

I would push myself past the breaking point. My midwife encouraged me time and again in the summer season to quit my teaching job; that it would be better for me in the long run especially as I clearly displayed signs of perfectionism and meticulous planning. I brushed off her suggestions, ensuring her that I would be able to balance everything once the time came. I ignored how tired my body was. I should have taken FMLA far before my due date, as it was still hot in Florida and I was exhausted. Our school did not have proper air conditioning so by the end of the day I was often weary and overheated. I also was not receiving clear information about what would happen once I went on maternity leave, which was making me so stressed out and causing sleep that was already difficult to achieve to be elusive.

I was taking on that Luisa persona of needing to make everyone happy — my administration, my department, my husband, my care providers — but I was exhausted, I didn’t feel like I was being cared for, and I certainly was not taking the time to rest and prepare.

Too add to my exhaustion, I was involved in a low speed car accident at the beginning of the my 39th week of pregnancy. A 20 something man rear ended me as I approached a red light at a major intersection on my way to school; I was already dreading the week and so desperately wanted to go on my maternity leave early. Looking back, I truly believe this was probably the LORD telling me to cease my striving, yet I did not listen — again.

I was spent by the end of the week and looking forward to getting some sleep and rest on a weekend that might be our last as a “childless couple”. This mindset sent me into a tunnel vision of wanting to just get through the day, leading me to ignore one of the greatest journeys a woman goes through in life.

Friday morning, I woke up to soaked underwear, which I chalked up to urinating during the night because of a cold I developed and the position of the baby. I rise long before my husband ever thinks about getting out of bed, so I completed by bible study and was on my way to work without a word to him. I was set on just getting through the day.

As I went throughout the day, the leaking continued to happen, and it was far more than a dribble here or there. However, there was no great rush of water. My worst fear was that I was going to end up with a hospitalized birth and receiving an unwanted (and probably unneeded C-Section), so I kept my mouth shut and proceeded through my day. I subconsciously thought if I just ignored it, the leaking would stop, and I’d have nothing to worry about.

The stresses kept piling on. One student I loved dearly was wrestling with what his understanding of who God was and was asking me some hefty questions I desperately wanted time to answer. I met the woman who was filling in for me— and I could already tell it was going to be a disaster. I had no answers yet as to who was going to be grading my student’s work when I was going to be out on leave. By the end of the day, I wanted to get home but did not want to face Friday rush hour traffic. I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week and then deal with having a baby. I grumbled to myself as I continued to organize materials for my leave, realizing this hard work was going to be in vain for a woman who clearly just wanted to babysit on my leave and not teach.

I mentioned to a co-worker what I was experiencing throughout the day, and having had kids herself. She said neither was normal and that I should probably talk to my provider. I nodded — and waved this off. I continued to put in the hours to try to get ahead in lesson planning for this reluctant and unprepared replacement when my husband called at 4:30, asking me when I’d be home. In tears, I told him about the substitute predicament. He encouraged me to call my midwife and come home. Packing a stack of papers to grade, I discouragingly packed up to face rush hour traffic on a Friday afternoon in Florida (the worst drivers in the country, bar none) yearning for a hot shower and my bed.

What a joke.

Ignorance Is Not Always Bliss

I had my biggest emotional meltdown my entire pregnancy the day I went into labor. After arriving home, not having actually contacted my midwife or doula, I was excited to have Chick-Fil-A and rest. I had resigned that my leaking was potentially amniotic fluid, but I also knew that fluid can regenerate and that “running out of fluid” is an actually pretty uncommon occurrence the medical industry uses to bully women into hurrying their births along in medicalized fashion. I did not want to know that my bag had broken and was leaking while I was having no contractions. I arrived home, and my husband took the car we shared in Florida to go and get dinner. I took the opportunity to grade even more. I felt like I was drowning from taking my maternity leave, and I hadn’t even started it yet. .

I was looking forward to my chicken with honey mustard sauce, which is the only sauce I can have at CFA due to a nightshade allergy. I was absolutely devastated when my husband returned with honey mustard barbecue sauce. It was a mistake on CFA’s part, and my husband had only seen the honey mustard part of the sauce. But it sent me into tears. I refused the sauce, I refused the food, and I threw myself on our bed and just wept. It was the straw that broke my very swollen, very sore, very exhausted pregnant camel’s back. My husband rushed out to Walmart and Macgyvered a honey mustard sauce. He then begged me to call my doula.

After eating and settling in on the couch, I finally listened to advice given me and called my doula. I kept describing my leaking to my providers as “a little" leakage (not several pads worth), so my doula referred me to the midwife emergency line. I called to explain my predicament and my midwife asked if we could meet several hours later. I had thought about taking a nap, about taking a shower, but I was convinced that I was going to be sent home later that night and would get my Saturday sleep in. But this incident encouraged me to call out the next week at school. I wasn’t going to be able to manage it.

As we prepared to leave the apartment several hours later in a rental car (because the back end of our car had been badly damaged by the rear ending earlier that week), my husband began packing our “to go” bags. I told my husband we wouldn’t be needing them, we were going to be coming home in a few hours. He insisted on packing them all the same.

It was a tense ride to the birth center. What typically is a higher speed country road was inundated with old drivers on their way to their 55+ communities who could not see well in the dark. And Floridians do not believe in passing or staying in the right hand lane until passing happens. My husband weaved through the cars, clearly stressed by the events of the day. I still had no contractions, and had no bloody show up until that point, so I kept seeing this as a waste of time and energy.

At the birth center, it took us a moment to figure out which building to go to, but once we got in the door, we were greeted by my midwife, who was on the phone with another client. I was glad to have the head midwife, Lucie, that night. While I liked the other women I had worked with, I appreciated Lucie’s no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point loving care. And I knew I wanted her to catch my baby.

She had me enter the exam room and get prepared for a swab while she continued to help this other client make a decision on what to do with her birth. I lay back on the table, tired and ready to get this over with. Lucie returned and explained she would use a swab to test the liquid around my vaginal area to see if it was urine or if it was amniotic fluid. If it was amniotic fluid, it would turn blue.

A swab and a moment later, the tip turned blue.

I was leaking amniotic fluid. My worst fears were coming true.

I began to spiral in the back of my brain. I thought for sure that I was going to be sent to the hospital to have my baby1. I was weary, having not listened to the sage advice around me to take these last few weeks a little easier. In hindsight, I would have benefited from Mark 2:27: “And he [Jesus] said to them, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” I should have recognized that this season I was in was a sabbath— none of the hard work I had put into lesson planning and making the world outside my home run smoothly without me ended up paying off. The woman who filled in for me told my students within a week that she wasn’t there to teach, but to babysit. All chaos broke loose in my class. The detailed lesson plans I had left behind were ignored. Had I taken this season to rest and to prepare my own home before worrying about pleasing other men, I would have been far more refreshed and prepared to welcome my baby. A lesson I am taking note of for my next baby.

It didn’t matter at this point what I hadn’t done, I was here now, and I was leaking amniotic fluid. If I hadn’t laid my plans down before the LORD, now would be a smart time to do so. (Spoiler alert: I wouldn’t truly get to this until several months later).

Lucie asked me if she could do a vaginal exam. I was originally going to deny these exams, as they tell you very little (you could go from 1 cm to 6 cm in 5 hours, or you could hover at 2 cm for days), but I felt the Holy Spirit tell me that I should consent. Consent I did. Lucie did a check (not comfortable), and that’s when she announced:

“You’re almost 5 cm…you sure you’re not having contractions?”

“I’ve only had Braxton Hicks,” I replied as she palpitated my belly. The benign squeeze wrapped my stomach again and Lucie shook her head.

“That is a contraction? You don’t feel that?” She said as she stepped back. I shook my head in the negative. “Well,” she teased, “all the women in the world are so very happy for you.”

The LORD had heard my cries. There wasn’t going to be a need to measure amniotic fluid or to start any form of induction. My body was going through the motions of welcoming our baby to earth, whether my mind was ready or not.

To be continued….

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While I am someone who does New Year’s Resolutions, I have never been one of those people who have selected a word for the year. I guess I never saw the point — why select one word on the first day of the year to define all the other days which will be so unique, unpredictable, and everchanging?

This year, however, I think I understand the point; it’s not so much to define what the rest of the year will be but to walk forward looking for opportunities to indulge and engage in the word that is selected. Just like the phenomenon where you think a number is being projected into your life — but in all reality, it’s just called to your attention the existence of the number around you— so your focus must change on chasing the word selected. If you are searching for joy, you are bound to have more joy. If you are searching for gratitude, you are going to find avenues to be more grateful.

As I’ve thought about my goals and all that I’d like to do with my life in the coming year, I have felt the Lord place on my heart the word healing.

And, after the year of 2024, I believe healing is the natural progression of my walk forward — both in my stature (or the shrinking of it now that I am past the age of 30) and my faith.

The Jesus Year

I have a long-running joke (at least to myself) that oft annoys the people in my life; the year that I know someone is turning 33, I like to remind them it’s their “Jesus Year.” In part because they’ll come to find out if it’s the Lord’s will to live longer on the earth than our Savior did, but also because the culmination of Jesus’ ministry came the year He turned 33. We often think our 30s are the beginning of the end (which, I suppose, one could argue that it was Jesus’ if they do not walk in faith), but our biblical forefathers and foremothers bear witness that youth is rarely the pinnacle of all that God is doing in us and through us.

Sometimes, I feel like I’ve missed so much of life in my 20s. I had neither the means to travel, my husband did not arrive until the decade’s end, and I spent so much of my time working multiple jobs just to keep myself afloat. There was no life and vibrancy; I feel like my 20s were just a series of wasted years in which I stayed in a relationship with my narcissistic mother past the age of adolescence — when I should have gotten out — and allowed myself to just continue the spiral of damage. I saw my body go through so much suffering as I tried to chase a standard of beauty held up by both the world and the church, only to find out how badly wounded my body was from all of the stress I was holding onto and how much I was never going to have a “normal” existence that others had.

It wasn’t until my 30s that I began to invest in steps that would lead me to uncover what was going on behind the scenes in my life: spiritually, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Through the support and help of functional medicine, counseling, therapy, boundaries, birthing a baby, and having to navigate back to a sense of self postpartum, I learned just how broken everything was beneath the surface. And much like Luisa in the titular song I was exhausted under the surface pressure but didn’t know how to get out from underneath the weight. Slowly, those around me helped me lift the heavy burden and crawl to a sense of safety.

So here I am, weak in the knees and unsteady without the pain of things pressing into my back. Yet, I must still walk forward.

And this is where healing takes place. This is the foundation of where I think God is calling me to use gifting and talents He has granted me. But it is up to me to steward what He has passed down.

Buckling and Bending Until Breaking

I have struggled with mental illness for a long time. Whether it be seasons of depression or anxiety, I have ridden the boat of not quite being okay for decades (my guess - I probably should have had professional help since middle school). But I never had the privilege of just being able to stop and lay in bed for days. I had a moment in one particularly dark season of depression in my second year of college of turning down an extra shift at the local coffee joint I worked at to lie in bed and sleep, but I was chewed out so viciously by my mother that I never turned down a shift or even called in sick, again. I had realized I didn’t have the option to break.

With nothing left in my reserves, I continued to push forward. I’ve had seasons of my life where I would wake at 6 am to head to work at a school, work until after 3, and have a 45-minute break where I would then drive to my next job to work until 11 or 12 pm over the holidays. I would do this for days on end, with perhaps one day off to get my affairs in order for the week. It was exhausting, I was exhausted, but I was trying to pay the bills — insurance, rent for the room in my parent’s house, saving up to go back to school so I could hopefully get a job that would hire me for more than minimum wage at below 40 hours a week. I was so incredibly lonely in many of these years, but I had to keep going; there was no other option.

Even when the pandemic hit, I didn’t have time to slow down. I was trying to figure out a wedding that may or may not take place, navigating life as a newlywed with no support system outside of the two of us, and then trying to get a job teaching as the pandemic still raged in New York. I endured several heartbreaks during this time, things that have brought other women to their knees. I had no family to fall back on and a scant number of friends — I had to keep going. Even with my Hashimoto’s diagnosis, I had to press on.

I was sometimes dragging myself along; I’ve had days of weeping at work between classes and then pulling myself together to impart information on tweens and teens who were struggling just as much as I was. I kept telling myself I wouldn’t break.

And then we had my daughter in 2023. It was an incredibly redemptive birth that opened my eyes to the “man behind the curtain” of trauma and PTSD, but it also ushered in one of the toughest seasons of my life.

My baby blues quickly turned into postpartum anxiety; things were not going the way I had planned them to when I had my baby, and the loss of control, when I was feeling so foreign in my body, was too much for me to handle. I could no longer bend and buckle; I was breaking. I had reached my end. Confined to my house, grasping for some sense of control as I barked at my husband how to hold my baby (because I thought she was suffering and oh, so alone — thanks mommy blogs), and so utterly terrified that my daughter hated me because I was failing as a mother, as my mother before had so utterly failed me, I was broken. Sleep was hard. Eating was hard. It was actually one of the times in my life I lost a good deal of weight because I was constantly worried. After a particularly hard fight with my husband over my controlling behavior, I knew I couldn’t do this anymore.

The first step toward healing wasn’t a specific prayer or a Road to Damascus moment. While those are certainly important in our lives with God, it isn’t always how He provides restoration this side of heaven.

My first step toward healing was accepting the help of a little tiny blue pill known commonly as Zoloft. I began anti-anxiety medication. After a few weeks, I felt my brain calm down and my ears open once more to be able to listen to God. I had reached my breaking point, and in that, I had to let my guard down and ask for help. Accept that I had come to my end and I could go forward no longer.

Kintsugi

Some people know of the Japanese practice called kintsugi. It is the practice of taking broken pottery and piecing it back together with gold. The piece has been elevated and takes on a beautiful new texture and coloring, but despite its beauty, the cracks are still visible.

Part of what I had to accept in 2024 is that my life was never going to be crack-free. I was never going to be able to smooth out the edges that had been splintered and separated long before I was even in control of my own life. No amount of therapy was going to take away the sadness I feel for the little girl abandoned and manipulated and controlled and abused growing up. But I could look at those cracks and see the beauty that could come from being able to accept it needed to be fixed and glued together.

And I could turn at this point and be angry for all the things that happened to me. All the hurt and pain I had been trying for so long to get away from, to appease enough to make it stop. I could be angry that God allowed all of this to happen.

Or I can accept that I am in a fallen world. I believe strongly in the concept of free will, so I can acknowledge that people have chosen not to seek the blessings and forgiveness of God. Part of that consequence spills over into other relationships and community, because God did not design us for a vacuum. But He also did not make it so we would suffer without joy forever. Instead, He asks us to give all of that hurt and brokenness to Him.

He promises, in the often wrongly quoted verse, that “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28, CSB, emphasis my own). God does not work together things for good for those who do not seek Him, who do not love Him, who do not lay down the shattered pieces before His throne. Can those people reap some of the blessings that rain down on God’s people? Sure. But God’s primary pipeline of blessing are those who love God. Those called according to His purpose. This isn’t meant to be a Calvinistic pre-destination, no choice position — it’s meant to say you need to cooperate with God to be called to His purpose. He isn’t going to force you to accept His grace and goodness. He is simply going to offer it. It is when we accept that we need Him that He can begin to work the hurt into healing. The beauty into ashes.

He’s been doing it since the beginning of creation, when Adam and Eve walked away and insisted on doing it on their own. When they confessed to Him in the garden and tried to return to community, God set into the motion the plan He had formed to work all this death and destruction and disunity into life, reclamation, and harmony.

This is where I have to surrender the pieces and place them in the potter’s hand. This is where I have to say, “God, I cannot make these better on my own.” I’m ashamed to say that I have tried. But like a child trying to lick back together a shattered vase, the vessel will not come together in my own strength.

This is my kintsugi year. The year where I am going to cease brushing all the broken parts of me under the rug, ashamed to admit that I need help and hope and healing. I am no longer going to pretend that I have it all together. This is the year I am walking boldly to the cross, the same cross carried by a man who was the age I am turning later this year, and I will ask Him to put together those pieces with His precious blood.

Some of this healing could be miraculous; I could wake up one day and no longer question myself or my reality while trying to navigate healing from the betrayal of those close to me in vulnerable and personal areas in my life, or it could just be months of doing the work to find that trust in God and in myself. I doubt my Hashimoto’s is going to be miraculously healed, but I know it’s not impossible. Most likely, I am going to need to take the reins and really dedicate this year to eating the way I need to, no matter how inconvenient or exhausting, and finding ways to move my body that nourish and support it.

While some of what I must walk through is hard — the cross I must bear, as the biblical story would attest — just because it is hard, does not mean it is bad. If anything, I know that, much like after a long day of physically working or volunteering, there will be relief in the exhaustion. The healing will come in spite of the effort.

I look forward to where I am going to be in 2026. I think there are going to be blessings I see off on the horizon, like a rainstorm across the plains, that will drench my life later this year. But until that torrent comes, I must be patient and I must prepare.

In doing this, I am going to look for the ways in which I can heal myself. Physically, emotionally, mentally…and, yes, spiritually.

I want to bring you on this journey of where I have been and where I am going. Some of this healing will come through the cathartic act of storytelling, of laying out the remembrance stones of where God has brought me from. And I look forward to looking back on this blog post in January 2026, when God will have set another word on my heart, and see all the ways in which He answers this breath prayer of, Jehovah Rapha, come and heal.

In response to this, there are many expressions of my faith I am navigating as I have become a better informed and intentioned adult. One of those responses I acted on last fall, after the topic had been weighing on my heart for nearly a year. In fall of 2021, our previous church’s youth pastor had talked with our teens about baptism and shared that he had made the decision to be rebaptized when he was older and better comprehending of the decision that he made. I, too, have come to a great appreciation for what the act of baptism truly means in my adult years, and, as a result, wanted to be re-baptized myself, so I could show to the world the glory of God and the growth which comes with walking with Him. 

As a result, this was something that I prayerfully considered over the 2022 year, and ultimately made the decision to reapproach the baptismal waters with a transformed heart. 

The First Baptism

Growing up in a “baptist” (read: northern baptist AKA pretty non denominational) Protestant church, I was sadly divorced from the rich education of the sacraments which – yes– have been romanticized and idolized by Latin churches. However, the Protestant church are no better jus because they teach these rituals poorly, making them into rote or expected actions that need to take place in the church. This, in turn, creates a feeding ground for modern Pharisees to subject the naive around them to making a decision because it would be ‘the right thing to do’ instead of the holy thing to do. 

This was how I was led to baptism the first time. As mentioned previously, Iwas  raised by a very legalistic mother. I remember being scolded for being bad when I was little (and my bad was nothing like I see children do today) and being shamed because “I went to AWANA and I learned all these bible verses!” (A note should be made here that, while the bible memorization club is somewhat beneficial to me now, it was not something I elected to do on my own or wanted to be involved in when I was older). There was shame for struggling with depression, there was shame for not wanting to go to bible school (in which I am very glad I went to bible believing schools for a myriad of reasons outside of the ones my mother wanted me to go for). Even after having an eye opening moment of realizing just how real the Lord was with my experience at Word of Life Bible Institute – it brought tears to my mother’s eyes because it was what she wanted me to take away from the year and not because I had grown or discovered something on my own. It’s a whole other level of awkward when someone is crying for this reason. 

In the midst of all this expectation (and jadedness toward God that it brought) was the expectation to be baptized. In all transparency, I originally did make this decision for the right reasons. I did this mostly for my mother, but if I were honest, I did it for an entirely other very teenage, very stupid reason, as well. The church we were attending at the time (since we church hopped every few years when a place go to be too-something for my mom: inclusive, secular, ungodly – basically when people started noticing that something was wrong behind the curtain) was doing a study on baptism one Sunday. The pastor, an old hippie, was one of the most well meaning and well intentioned men that God ever blessed with the ability to preach. I loved his sermons, even in  the struggling teenage years when I wanted to leave the church, because of the authenticity of which he shared the gospel and the bible. We had been attending this church for a few years at this point, and I felt like I was finally settling in to the community. I had been allowed to attend youth group more often (AWANA always took precedence over youth group in our week – ask how that went for my social life, especially as our AWANA group got smaller and smaller the older we became), and I even had a boy in that youth group that I was interested in. He attended my school, too. As the pastor was explaining the importance of baptism and the ability to come and learn more in a class setting if you wanted to make the decision to pursue it, I thought I could easily kill two birds with one stone! I can make my mom happy and maybe, just maybe, I can score that boy’s attention, too. 

I already prefaced that I had made this decision for utterly stupid reasons. 

When I approached my mom later that day about interest in going to the class to learn more, she was over the moon. I don’t quite remember where we stood in our relationship at that moment – if she was pleased with me in that season or whether it was one where I was a constant burden– but I do remember her response. 

It was ecstatic. 

She was so happy that I was going to make such a public statement of faith. This grieves my heart now, as a woman preparing to have her own children in the near future. My mom had no real understanding of where my heart was. She did not sit down with me and have long conversations where I could wrestle through theology with her. She was quick to judge people and say that they were not living a life worthy of the gospel, as if any of us could be worthy of the gospel, and could be a major gossip at home, constantly bad mouthing the leadership and the other women in church. There was also a very rigid way of learning about God in our household, and it was very much a rewards system. If you do good and you obey God, then you are going to have good things rein down on you. However, if you are bad, then you are going to reap bitterness and hardship. 

But I was naive with a mother that was hard to please. I so desperately wanted someone to notice me and to say I was doing well enough. One thing I mourn: I have never had an older lady come alongside me and mentor me. I realize that my mother probably chased a lot of them away as they were beginning to try, but I think I would have grown more in my faith and not had a season of walking away had just one lady saw me and stuck through with me. When I approached my mom about baptism, I now believe that she saw it as a way to try to make it to the “in crowd” with the new youth pastor. She hurried contacted the head pastor and we were set up for several weeks to talk over the importance of baptism. 

Now, I cannot blame the pastor for allowing me to go through with the decision even though my heart was not in the right place. I was a good AWANA goer and could spit out the right church answer. I was an anxious people pleaser and a hardworking student (though my mother would say I was trouble and drama in both of these areas), and I wanted to be chosen to be baptized. I showed up each and every week to the pastor’s office— with my mom in tow. 

I know it would not have been good to meet with the pastor in a closed off location one on one. But I believe that when my children make the decision, I want them to meet with the pastor and with a third party they respect (unless the Lord blesses me with children who can confide in me honesty– I pray I can win their trust in this). There were a couple times I remember having reservations about going through with this, but I was certainly not going to say anything in front of my mother, who clapped her hands and praised me for being a good Christian. Before I knew it, I was finishing up the several weeks study on baptism and arranging a date to have it done. 

Of course, I was the good little girl and I asked for the youth pastor to baptize me– even though I had no real relationship with him and he had not gone through the classes with me. Before I knew it, I was standing before the congregation reciting the words I had seen others say, and I was being baptized. I was so excited because I thought for sure that this would fix so many things. 

Like what usually happens when you take something that God has called holy and participate for the wrong reasons, you have consequences. I think the Lord took mercy on my naivety and my desire to do what I thought my parent would want, and spared me from a worse consequence I would have deserved. 

The Journey to the Desert

We did not stay at that church (which, ironically, if I had, I would have met my husband less than a decade later had I stayed). My mom did not get into the “ in crowd” with the pastor – in part because she was far older than them, as well as being a hard to please and cynical woman. The boy who I wanted to see my get baptized so he knew I was a good Christian ended up making it very clear that he didn’t want to have much to do with me because I was a bad witness for Christ. And I entered a really dark place of searching for God in the darkness. 

I had gone about baptism for all the wrong reasons. And because baptism is merely a picture, there is no salvation or healing which comes through it, I had been disappointed. That disappointment was on me and not on God. 

After a season of wandering, I was led away from my home and its inward destructive view of God to Word of Life Bible Institute, which outwardly had an even more destructive view of God– but where I actually had some of the sweetest provisions and examples of God internal despite it’s external legalism. I went on to Liberty University where people demonstrated to me raw and real relationships with Him. And I began to fall in love with a God of grace and mercy in ways I never had been able to before. 

I went from casually wanting to do the Jesus thing (I did not attend a church regularly while at Liberty and struggled off and on with an addiction and depression which worsened this walk), but as I sought freedom in my early 20s and began to figure the Jesus thing out on my own, I found a real relationship with Him. A new level of gratitude.

Which is where I was when the future youth pastor talked about baptism back at the same church where I was now serving in the youth group, over a decade later. I remember regretting the first time I was baptized because I knew that my heart wasn’t right with God then. It was focused on pleasing people and not on the glory that God gets through the action. 

So I began to pray. And share the burden with my husband. We had walked through some trials in our new marriage, within and without, but I knew in my heart I wanted him to baptize me because he was the head of my household. I wanted him to lead me in that. The problem was we were at the church where I had been baptized previously; I felt awkward for saying “whoops, was kinda unintentionally fooling everyone that first time!”, and I knew the church held man made church positions too tightly to let my husband baptize me. I had suggested pursuing the matter with the pastor who shepherded my husband for more than half his life back in New Jersey, but that opportunity never arose. 

The Journey Back to the Water

When we arrived here in Florida, we found a church we began attending within a few months. It wasn’t long after we started going that we met with the pastor and shared our stories with him. A few weeks after this, the pastor talked about having people come up to be baptized and he would be honored to accommodate that person’s decision to be baptized. I felt the Holy Spirit tell my soul that this was time. 

Right before Thanksgiving in 2023, I was rebaptized at a church local to us. I was able to share my testimony as to why I was seeking rebaptism and the work the Lord had done in my life to lead me there. 

It was the exact opposite of my first baptism. I was able to share my testimony in a way I was not able to or expected the first time I went through it. I had no friends or family to share the moment with me.. It was not a pastor who baptized me, but it was my husband. 

And it was exactly what I needed to do. To go forward and proclaim “Look how faithful the Lord has been! Look how good He has been to me! I want to shout that to the world!”. 

I am glad I had the patience to wait on the Lord, because His timing is always perfect. And now I want to share this story as a word of encouragement– if the Lord is laying on your heart that you want to seek rebaptism because your heart posture is correct with Him now vs. when you did it (probably as a much younger child, maybe even in a religiously abusive household), I encourage you to pray and to seek counsel of wise godly people. This may be your pastor, it may be a mentor. 

Remember, baptism does not save you (sorry everyone that got sprinkled as a non-consenting baby – you’d be in a good category to pursue this as a sentient adult!), but it is a picture of the beautiful relationship of being made alive in Christ, being a new creature. 

Do not let the fear of tradition or the fear of feeling foolish stop you. And pray over all of it. 

Have you reconsidered rebaptism? Have you been rebaptized yourself? Leave some thoughts in the comments! 

And just like that– another year has come and gone. If you are anything like me, the past few years have moved more slowly than I would have expected, while simultaneously I am surprised to yet again arrive to January 1st. The past two years have been filled with really deep valleys, but I would be remiss to say that they did not come with some really sweet mountaintops. Twenty-twenty-two was no exception. 

Praise In the Storm 

It is within my nature to want to focus on the negatives of the year (this is a personality trait that I need to work on surrendering to the Lord). There are aspects of my marriage and my family life that have been at times discouraging and it can be really easy for me to be overcome by the disappointments. 

However, I am tired of being overcome by them and run dry by the fear that something bad is going to happen. Instead, I want to welcome this year with the focus on the positive. My husband and I have been attending a group at our church that supports people in their healing journeys – whether from addictions, personal traumas, or just trying to get through day to day life. One of the aspects of this group is to focus on gratitude in order to find healing through Christ. Just because I accepted Christ as my Savior, this alone does not always lead to the healing that I need. It is through journeying with Him and leaning on Him that we can understand just how great and mighty our God is which, in turn, can make the hard things in life seem so very small. 

One of the practices I have come to love reading about in daily Scripture reading is  the Israelites focus on remembering all that God had done for them. The Jewish culture is so steeped in the tradition of remembering – from laying stones in a place to remember the Lord’s promise, to writing Him songs that we still have copies of in His Holy Word, to the festivals that often have traditions requiring celebrants to remember exactly what it was God delivered them from. We would do well to learn from our Jewish brothers and sisters the importance of remembering all that God has done for us and delivered us from. It makes the valleys of the previous year seem pale in comparison to the blessings we receive. 

And this year really was filled with blessings. 

Lay the Stones

Here are a stones of remembrance I want to lay as I rejoice in what God did give us: : 

• This has been a year of healing – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. 

At the beginning of this year, I was just in the beginning stages of my Hashimotos diagnosis and the protocol I was following to treat the autoimmune condition with supplements and diet. I am incredibly thankful that I married a man who not only was willing to figure out a way to pay to see a functional doctor, but who also supported me as I navigated (and continue to navigate) a pretty restrictive diet. I am also incredibly blessed that the practitioner I am seeing is a man of God who wants to honor the Lord through his giftings and talents. It often feels like I am not working just on healing my body, but on healing it with the blessings of God. 

I have also done a lot of emotional work this year. I have come to a place where I am accepting that my healing is my responsibility alone, and cannot and should not be reliant on the people around me and their behaviors. This year I have worked hard on treating my childhood traumas and insecurities, diving as deep as pursuing EMDR therapy to work through some pretty ingrained beliefs and attitudes so I could begin to view myself in a more biblically healthy sense. This work was incredibly difficult, and at times exhausting, and I still have a lot of work yet to do, but the relief I have gotten from anxiety, depression, and fear has been absolutely incredible. While I believe that God does and can heal people miraculously, that was not the plan He had for me. I am incredibly grateful for Christian therapists that have stepped up to provide routes of healing. I have benefited not only from personal counseling, but my husband and I have worked through some junk in marriage counseling. While I know it was God’s will to be in the profession I am in now, I pray that someday I might be able to enter into this type of work to continue to help others grow more healthy in their walks with God. 

• Finding God in new ways 

I just completed my 3rd year reading the Bible, and my second journey through the entire Scriptures. I followed a 365 day plan this year instead of sectioning the books out. It has been incredible to read through the Scriptures a second time. While I grew up memorizing Bible Scripture and reading parts here and there, it is transformative to stick to a plan which requires you to engage in the Word of God every day. While it was not always easy, I got up early (and I am NOT a morning person) to make time for this. I am hoping that as I continue to invest in God’s Word that it would permeate more of my life and it would be unmistakable that I am steeped in God’s Words. 

• A New Home 

After growing up in New York State, meeting my husband and getting married there, it was time for the two of us to go. We had been praying about going to Texas (which is still on our hearts), but God opened the doors for us to relocate to Florida. We had been praying about leaving New York State as we are beginning to plan our family, and the desire we have to raise them is not compatible with many of the restrictions that are continuing to tighten each and every year in that state. Along with some other doors closing, we heard God calling us elsewhere. We ended up relocating with a couple that have acted as mentors to both of us, which has been a tremendous blessing. We have been here for 7 months and are still trying to grow our roots. Continue to keep us in prayer as we begin to grow relationships down here– and that one day we can get to the Lone Star State, something my husband and I have yearned for separately and as a couple. 

• God’s provision through it all 

There is so much that God just provided for us right when we needed it. From trying to figure out moving situations that were not financially crippling, to an apartment, to the people who showed up to help us move. While I had no desire to return to a job in the education field (I am growing more and more opposed to public, and increasingly, private education each year I work in the field), God blessed me with the ability to work at a private Christian school for the time being. He also provided us with the support systems and with the connections when we needed them. There are so many moments where I can see God’s hand in every moment. From friends that have supported in the deep valleys to doors that were unquestionably closed to peace in the times when we weren’t sure what was going to happen to jobs or with churches. He was evidently there every step of the way and He sustained us through it all. 

Moving Forward 

I also was able to begin this blog! While it has been dormant for the most part over the past few months (I am trying to learn a better balance still as an educator – we are notoriously bad for self imposing ourselves in overwork and burn out), there is so much I want to do with this platform, if God would will and allow. 

I am a planner, which means that I do like to set New Year’s Resolutions. I am pretty good at keeping them for the most part, which keeps me coming back to create goals year after year. This year is no different. While I have several personal goals that I want to open the year with, there are a couple things I want to do with this platform over the next twelve months. 

Here is what I am hoping to provide this year for my Not Yet 31 Readers: 

• 2 blog posts a month: I would love to commit to a post a week, but I want to give you quality content and not just quantity. I also do not want to be incredibly sporadic. Thus, I believe two blog posts a month is doable with my schedule. Should the time allow, I can always bless you with a bonus here and there. 

• At least 3 more podcast interviews: I am having trouble getting people interested in interviewing for the podcast, but I am putting it in God’s hands to lead me to the next person whose wisdom and insight I can share. I was so incredibly blessed by the insight Kristina Hill, Angela Ruhlig, and Anna Vaughn shared this year; I would love to have at least three more voices! If you know someone you would love to hear about on this platform, please tell them about this ministry. If you would like to come on to share what God has been teaching you, I would love to host you. 

• Bible study curriculum: I know. I’m a teacher, this is a bit insane. But God has put in my heart the desire to design some bible study curriculum for ladies from my generation and younger for years. I want to design these as studies you can complete on your own, as well as podcasts you can listen along to. I realize that many of the women I will reach are moms of littles, and I want to provide a way for you to listen as you are fulfilling God’s call to be arrow raisers and sharpeners. I have a vision of what I want to complete, now with God’s direction and insight I hope to accomplish this. 

• Read through the Bible: I am planning to read through the Bible again this year. I am going to complete The Bible Recap this year with Tara-Leigh Cobble. If you would like to join me in completing this on the Bible App, you can do so by clicking this link: https://bible.com/p/55668639/3c6b073e1192da83a0efe6c6125d4fb6  . This will provide you with daily reading to complete. There is also a podcast you can listen to at the conclusion of the reading that will go over the themes and events of the reading for that day. 

I would encourage you to find a reading plan this year to complete everyday, whether it is reading through just the Old Testament or the New Testament, or even the challenge of doing boh. There is no reason that time cannot be found to give to God– think of all the social media scrolling you could sacrifice to spend some time with Him! 

I am looking forward to 2023. I am praying that this year brings big things in my own personal life, but also for this ministry. 

I ask that if you are enjoying this content, that you would share this on your social media, as well as following me on my Facebook and Instagram accounts. I want to support women in a culture that does not want to pursue what it means to be a woman of valor and a woman of God. The internet can be used for so much harm, but I hope to redeem just a little part of this with a community that can lift up women seeking the Lord. 

Will you join me in this quest? What goals do you have for the year ahead? 

Today I had the privilege to sit down with Anna Vaughn of The Holy Home. 

Anna Vaughn is a trained counselor specializing in trauma with a background in biblical studies. She has used her giftings and education to launch her ministry, The Holy Home, to educate and equip women on how to make healthy, informed lifestyle choices and rhythms. Anna's training and passion is in holistic health for women, spiritually, mentally, and physically. Anna guides us through the importance of honoring God with our present temples (bodies) through the lifestyle choices we make. She and her husband operate their own counseling business, where they are able to support Christians as they work their their trauma. She has a beautiful daughter who she is teaching to honor her temple well. 

I hope you are blessed as I was to learn from Anna's wisdom and practical and academic knowledge. 

You can follow Anna on:

-Instagram: the.holy.home

- Join The Holy Home Community on Facebook

If you have any questions for Anna, or would like to contact her for collaboration, please email Ann at contacttheholyhome@gmail.com

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For more information about my ministry, Not Yet 31, you can find most of my content on my website at: Not Yet 31;

You can also follow me on Instagram at _notyet31

Any questions, comments or guest suggestions can be sent to lydia@notyet31.com

Please leave a favorite and a comment if you enjoyed this episode.

That time of year is creeping up once again. My local grocery stores are filled with the growing cornucopias of pumpkins and squash. Apple and pumpkin pies are lining the shelves. At my local Aldi, an entire aisle was dedicated to fall. While fall is not one of my favorite seasons, symbolizing the death of my most beloved time of year, I do enjoy the coziness of plaid flannels, the tastes of pumpkin spiced lattes, and the calming crisp scents of decaying leaves. Well – I did before moving to Florida where fall feels like the mid to high 80s instead of the low 60s. It’s been an adjustment. 

The one part of fall I am growing to dislike – and honestly, it’s becoming something that I have started seeing crop up in July in the past recent years– Halloween, or rather, its over-the-top celebration. There are a growing number of people that just want September to roll around so  they can don black every day, put creepy inflatables in their lawn, and binge watch the Disney Channel’s 25 days of Halloween. I do understand that there are some exhilarating moments in the season of scares, and that some Halloween movie can be fun to watch (I am a big fan of Tim Burton, and while I am not likely to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas, I do like to watch The Corpse Bride around this time of year). I have noticed that this season, Halloween seemed to hit hard and fast – probably with the marketing of the new Hocus Pocus sequel as Disney, yet again, proves it cannot make a new story but needs to recycle an old one. One of the trends I have been noticing over the past couple years is the growing number of my Bible professing friends in taking up with the spirit of the season (I hesitate to call it a “holy day”). It’s had me wrestling with my own approach to this time of year – how do we, as representatives of Christ, approach a holiday that has its foundations in demonic celebrations?

Growing up, my family did participate in Halloween in small doses. I was blessed to grow up in a small suburban neighborhood in upstate New York, and it was both safe and convenient for us to walk door to door and participate in “trick or treat” with our neighborhood friends. My family did participate in a couple Harvest Festivals at church (notably, the year we were living in an apartment complex), but that tradition never took. Instead we ventured out like many an American household on October 31st to collect candy from endearing elderly couples and exhausted moms trying to get their own broods out the door. While we participated in trick or treating, we had guidelines in our costume choices – nothing demonic, scary, or associated with evil. My parents also made the decision to ban Harry Potter from our house (a decision I am not inclined to support with my own children), so we had little desire to dress up like the little witches and wizards our friends often went out as. Honestly, the guidelines weren’t that limiting – there were hosts of athletes, pop stars, cartoon characters, and other iconic creatures to go out masqueraded as. Outside of this, we did not have extended cable, so I did not grow up on a steady diet of Disney channel Halloween movies. I did not see Hocus Pocus until my senior year of college! I also do not remember anything but candy lining the shelves of stores of our local Price Chopper much to the chagrin of the adults.

As I have grown older, I have noticed that the presence – and the obsession– with Halloween has seemed to grow as my generation has reached adulthood. I, as a future parent, have become concerned with the burgeoning popularity of this day, not because I think my friends who profess Christ yet get dressed up in their witchy best are sacrificing to the devil, I just believe we run the danger of sanitizing and familiarizing things that are demonic and evil by making them kid friendly. This year especially, as my husband and I are on the cusp of starting our own family, has me wondering how God might call us to respond to this day in a way that honors Him but also allows us to practice our Christian liberty. 

There are parts of Halloween that  can be good innocent fun. There’s something that can be community building in  innocent trick-or-treating. My family and I often went with unbelieving friends, and it allowed us to create deeper relationships  to share our faith. I also see little difference in going out for Halloween and engaging in a church based “Harvest Festival,” where candy and games are played and people dress up all the same. I believe either way families participate in this event can lead to fun for small children. And can lead to various ways to bring people to Christ, which I believe should be our ultimate goal whenever we engage with others in our community. I don’t think it is wrong that some people have a conviction to not trick-or-treat – just please don’t be like the sheltered homeschooling families of my younger days and make Harvest parties all about the church family. What a great way for us to reach others and spread the gospel – especially as many other young people may be in apartment complex situations where trick or treating is a logistics issue and not a moral one. 

The real concern that is growing in me about Halloween seems to be the glorification of the other parts. How creepy can we make our house, filled with witches and demonic beings? How many times can I declare myself a witch? How many of these movies can I watch, slowly desensitizing myself to the real presence of evil in our world and instead making it into a silly, jumpscare gag? I have to start out the next part of my treatise with this word of encouragement – these are merely my thoughts in this generation and I want to share some of my convictions. Your convictions may not align with mine, and that is okay. There is freedom in Christ. However, I am seeing trends in morality that are beginning to worry me, and I want to raise a yellow flag of warning to my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ who may be exposing themselves to the dizzying effects of the enemy is one of my duties as a fellow sister in Christ. . 

When we, as Christians, begin to normalize spiritual aspects to make them nothing but “fun” or “scary” stories, I believe we are numbing our ability to detect the schemes of the Devil. Now, I believe that, just as with any matter of personal liberty, how much we can read of these tales is based on the individual, their story of coming to Christ, and their sensitivity to the Holy Spirit. A place where I draw a hard line, personally, is with the type of horror or scary movies that I will watch. I am not a fan of being scared in general, but I don’t mind a good suspense movie from time to time. The one genre of horror I refuse to watch is the spiritual supernatural. I think it is a dangerous game to play with movies such as The Conjuring, The Blair Witch Project,or the numerous Paranormal Activities which play around with the ideas of demons. It lulls the unbelieving world (or the casual believer) into the idea that demons are harmless and that they are good fodder for a thrilling story. Demons are far from harmless, though they would love it if we would consider them that way. They would love to creep their way into the lives of non-believers in order to continue to blind them to the grace of Christ; and, while they do not hold power over the souls of Christians, they can sneak in and bind us where we give them power. I believe we should prayerfully consider how much we are willing to “play” with the idea that the enemy is  weak and passive, when he is on the mission to bring as many people down with him into the fiery lake. We would be foolish to think that he does not play into the desire to be taken as weak and as fun entertainment– what better way to prowl about like a lion, seeking to kill and destroy. First Peter 3:8 calls us as professors of Christ, to be alert and of sober mind. Let me tell you as someone who was raised in an abusive household, I am not always “sober minded” when it comes to dangerous patterns in my family’s history, because I have become accustomed to the dysfunction in my family of origin and what is not right has become “normal”. Abuse is the kindest word I can use to describe what the devil wants to do to our souls. We should be careful how we approach media with these types of supernatural beings, to avoid becoming accustomed to the “fun” presence of devils that we are not able to recognize. Instead, we would be wise to call heaven down against spiritual attacks in our lives, families, and communities. 

I also believe there is danger to downplaying different aspects of supernatural elements. Again, this is something that each individual needs to approach prayerfully and seek the Lord. While I am not against witch stories like the Harry Potter series (which most people enjoy the tribalism of more than anything — after all, when discussing Harry Potter, the first question usually asked is what house you are in to identify friend, foe, or Hufflepuff can identified – an issue in and of itself); I do think these can be engaging stories about witches and wizards that can encourage good character traits in young readers (loyalty, how to be a better friend than Harry Potter is, honesty, bravery). The series also makes it impossible for somebody to “become” a witch – like an allegory that went sideways, either you are born a magic person or you are not. However, the more and more we invite “kid friendly witchcraft” into our lives, the more I believe we run the risk of exposing ourselves and our communities to lifestyles that are neither edifying nor beneficial. Most witch stories that take place in our world involve witches learning spells, which is something that is practiced among belief systems such as Wicca. This also desensitizes us to the fact that witchcraft practiced in our world ARE demonic forces. Witches are in the Bible, after all. King Saul went to the Witch of En-Dor (where have you seen that name before, in a tale that involves good magic and bad?), the witch not only was able to prophecy, but was also able to conjure up the spirit of Samuel, who rebuked Saul for seeking out demonic help (1 Samuel 28). Do we teach stories like this to our children? Or that when Christ was raised from the dead, so were others (not a demonic rising, but we sure like to pretend that we made up our zombie stories out of thin air). I believe that we, as Christians, are doing a disservice to our children and to non believer alike to look to fictional storytelling and a demonic based holiday to learn about and celebrate witchcraft while never addressing these stories in the bible. I can’t remember a single time in youth group where we talked about this story of King Saul and the very real power that demonic forces DO have. This is a big reason I will never let my children watch The Princess and the Frog – the voodoo magic was taken so flippantly.  The casual evilness in the movie disturbed my soul, and I was just coming back to my walk with Christ when I saw it. 

I think we as Christians need to be extremely careful and prayerful in how we engage this holiday. That does not mean we need to go and cancel everything – I believe some people have had fun and peaceful Hocus Pocus 2 parties in the last few weeks. I enjoyed a great Stranger Things house set up I saw on Instagram. However, I have also seen far too many pictures of young toddlers in “I am little witch!” shirts posted right next to Bible verses. I am beginning to wonder if my generation of believing women are aware that witches are real – and they were not to be celebrated in the Bible? Having just finished the Old Testament with the Books of Chronicles, the kingdoms that displeased the Lord and walked away from Him to worship at the Asher poles were the ones that began to practice witchcraft and sorcery. Because both of these are real and both of these in this world are linked to the demonic. 

If you think I am attacking you and your children, hear my heart in this. I am not out to tell you how to celebrate or recognize Halloween this year or in the years to come My plea is that you think about how and why you do so. Is it to have a good time, bond with some friends, and enjoy some candy? Then perhaps there is nothing Spirit grieving about the way you enjoy the tradition. But if you find yourself reveling in the darkness, macabre, and sorcery that comes with these times, perhaps it is time to take a heart inventory check (as we should do anytime something other than God becomes an object that captures our attention). 

I look forward to the ending of Halloween this year, even though when I write this,  it is the start of October. While the days may be longer in Florida (and filled with more sunshine than in the gloomy and lost state of New York we fled), the end of the days of this age is drawing near.

 We are called to be meeting together more and more as believers, creating a safety net of accountability and protection, as Christ’s return approaches (Hebrews 10:25). We are also called to take our enemy seriously and to resist him, to run from him (James 4:7). And we are called to remember that Satan ultimately does not have the power – Christ does. He should be the object of our sole worship and attention.

 I look forward to the true holiday that comes with autumn in the United States – Thanksgiving. Which, despite how one feels about its beginnings, calls us to be thankful and to count our blessings, a prescription we are given time and again in the Scriptures as we focus on the Goodness of God. I pray that you are able to seek edification and discernment in this tempting time of the year. Consider that Satan was a beautiful angel before he fell, and that he did not lose his power to attract when he was cast out of heaven. Be alert and sober minded, thoughtfully considering whether the movies you watch, the costumes you don, the way you decorate your house, and the parties you attend are in an effort to be a witness and glorify God in all you do – or are a way for you to forget, for a moment, just how real the spiritual realm is. If you’re in need of a good Halloween read – I would suggest The Screwtape Letters. It just might change the way you approach every aspect of your life in light of eternity going forward. 

My husband and I talked about having kids before we got married. It was a five minute conversation where we concluded that we did, in fact, want them, and that we would wait a few years before having them. That was it. We got married and settled into figuring out cohabitation, sex, and who on earth was going to do the dishes. As the time approached, though, I started to look into what exactly the new parent life involved. To be honest, it didn’t look good. All I seemed to see were stories about the constant discomfort of pregnancy, the sleeplessness of the newborn phase, and the impossibility of caring for yourself as a mom, let alone maintaining your marriage or career. And that’s completely leaving out the trauma of birth, which was also apparently inevitable no matter how much you prepared. That’s what the internet told me about being a new mom. This overwhelmingly negative portrayal of early parenthood is so pervasive that it’s no wonder that so many young women in our culture believe that having a baby will ruin their physical and mental health as well as their futures, and that abortion is their only option. I don’t need to say that parenthood is hard. It absolutely is, and if my experience has been easier in some ways than other women’s, it was harder in others. But the process of pregnancy, birth, and new motherhood has been my favorite chapter of my life so far. The things I’ve learned about myself, my husband, and more importantly, about the God who made me and my son with infinite care, have made this stage of my life far more of a joy than I ever expected.

The First Lie

The first lie I believed was that pregnancy and birth are, by and large, extremely hard and generally terrible. My pregnancy with my son was unremarkable. This was a huge blessing, because my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at 9 weeks, and we were only slightly more pleased than anxious to find we were pregnant again only a month later. My OB joked once that I was the most boring patient she had at the time, which I take as a compliment (second only to the time she told me I had “great pelvic structure” during a membrane sweep). Of course, some women are plagued with issues during pregnancy, but for most of us, things go pretty smoothly without extraordinary efforts. I like to describe myself as “crunchy curious,” since I have no patience for homeopathy or essential oils, but I hired a doula, did prenatal yoga, and drank tons of red raspberry leaf tea in the third trimester. I was also working full time as a lecturer of English at a small university fifty miles away, meaning that I commuted two hours a day and sucked sour candies while lecturing to stave off nausea in the first trimester. Pregnancy had its discomforts, but it was generally fine.

Birth was freaking awesome. I know that sounds hyperbolic, but I was so convinced that it would be the worst thing I had ever experienced that I was astonished by how much I loved it. It was intense and physically demanding, but so freaking cool to feel the things that I’d read about actually happening in my body. And lest anyone think this positive perception is due to drug-induced amnesia, let me clarify that I had a completely unmedicated labor, pushed for three hours, and finally delivered a surprise giant of a baby. My son was 10 lb 6 oz at birth, in the 99th percentile for weight. And yes, I tore and needed stitches. But I got those stitches while holding my baby boy for the first time. I told my husband the next day that I couldn’t wait to do it again.

Pregnancy and birth taught me how incredibly thoughtful our Creator was in the way He made women’s bodies “fearfully and wonderfully” to bring our babies into the world (Psalm 139:14). We are the first home our children will know, the first place that will shelter and provide for them on earth, and that’s the most amazing privilege I can imagine. And even if your pregnancy was difficult, or ended in a birth that wasn’t what you wanted, you still successfully sheltered that baby while he or she was in there, and that’s incredible work.

The Second Lie

The second lie I believed before I became a mom was that the newborn stage is primarily a time of sleep deprivation, constant crying, and struggling to understand the complex work of early parenthood. Truthfully, those first couple of months were extremely hard for me, but not for any of the reasons I had heard. Due to a tumor I had removed in my teens, I didn’t have enough breast tissue to successfully breastfeed my son, even though my doctor at the time promised it wouldn’t make any difference. We had to supplement with formula from day one, and even with pumping 8 times per day, I couldn’t get my supply up enough to exclusively breastfeed. We saw four different lactation consultants and an ENT who diagnosed a tongue tie that complicated feeding even more. I struggled with postpartum anxiety and intense feelings of failure and shame over giving my son formula, as it didn’t square with the image of the perfect mom I wanted to be. But God was gracious enough to give us a happy baby who smiled early, only cried when he was hungry, and started sleeping 12 hours a night at 9 weeks old. Making those decisions about feeding him was hard, but truthfully, I made it much harder than it needed to be. I thought moms who gave formula didn’t care enough about their kids to make breastfeeding work, and the “breast is best” mentality I saw all over the internet confirmed my opinion. And here I was medically unable to feed my son without formula. Maybe those other moms were also making the best possible decision for themselves and their babies, too. My Heavenly Father has been trying to wean me from my addiction to control for at least the last fifteen years, but I think this experience was the “fall” that finally broke my “haughty spirit” of pride (Proverbs 16:18).

The Third Lie

The third lie I believed about becoming a mom was that it meant I would have to stop taking care of myself. You’ve seen them: the memes and jokes about not showering for days, eating scraps off your kid’s plate, or being unable to spend a single moment alone for days at a time? That doesn’t have to be the case, but you will have to bite the bullet and ask for help. My son is almost 7 months old, and I’ve never missed a shower. He would happily nap or sit in a swing or bouncy seat in the bathroom door while I enjoyed the hot water and listened to a podcast. (Pro tip: install a detachable showerhead before giving birth. It’s a gift from God if you have stitches, and it’s great for baby baths in those early months. They’re $20 at Walmart). I put up a good number of freezer meals before he was born, and between that and the support of our friends and church community, we had plenty of healthy and delicious meals until I was feeling up to cooking again. I also made a rule during the early months that I had to see or talk to someone other than my husband every single day, so I scheduled a succession of phone dates, walks, and visits with friends to combat postpartum isolation. Those talks refreshed my soul (Proverbs 27:9), and I made it through the challenges of breastfeeding and postpartum anxiety because of their support and advice. We need to ask for help. I see moms online wondering where their village is, but your village can’t support you if you don’t ask.

The Fourth Lie

The fourth lie I believed about new parenthood was that it would ruin, or at least severely challenge, my marriage. This has not been the case at all. From counting pushes during labor, sitting with our son in the hospital so I could sleep, and cleaning the house when we got home, my husband was my champion and protector when I needed him the most. And in the months since, I have fallen more deeply in love with him by watching him sacrificially love me as Christ loves the church (Ephesians 5:25). We do spend less time together than we used to, but we’re also more intentional about the time we do have. There are fewer evenings in front of the TV, but more dinners out on our deck with the patio lights on and the fireflies blinking around us. There are fewer date nights, but more chatting during the bedtime routine or the Saturday farmer’s market trip. And we are both so obsessed with our son that we often catch ourselves looking at pictures of him on our phones after he goes to bed. Our marriage has been renewed by becoming parents because it gives us another common goal in raising our son and the babies that will hopefully come after him. Sleep deprivation and anxiety took their toll during those early weeks, of course, but overall, having a child has been just as great a blessing and reward as Scripture promises (Psalm 127:3-5), and has only made our marriage stronger.

The Last Lie

The last lie that I believed before becoming a mom was that there would be times I would regret having a baby. Now, I’m not condemning parents who have days like this, and it’s completely possible that those days are still in the future for me; after all, my son is only 7 months old. But even on the hardest days in the newborn stage, I never had a second where I longed for my life before motherhood. Because he’s not just “a baby.” He’s not even just “my baby.” He’s Jakey. He’s my little buddy who smiles at me when I lean over his crib in the morning and babbles when I read to him. He loves my off-key singing and thinks my curly hair is fascinating. He laughs when the dog sneezes and smiles at strangers everywhere we go.

Nothing about parenting feels hard compared to the joy he brings me on a daily basis. Because of my son, I have a greater awareness of the grace of God and the sacrifice of Christ. I more clearly see what the Incarnation means and what condemning His Son to pay for the sins of mankind must have meant to the Father. When I look at Jakey, I think about how my delight in him mirrors the delight God feels in His children, how my concern and care for my baby reflects the Father’s care for us. Motherhood has helped me know and trust God in ways I never have before, and if I had been deterred from it by the lies the world told me, I would have missed out on some of the most meaningful experiences of my life.

Women are sexual beings. 

What a counter cultural thought, right? Actually, it’s not. If anything, most of the women outside of the church have learned to embrace their sexuality (perhaps a little too comfortably, as seen by the prominence of hookup culture). This seems to be more of an anti-church thought, the worst take that the church can make. The female body and relationship with sexuality is just as important, and even more intricate, than that of the man’s. And if we, the Church, continue to ignore that women’s sexual desire and design, though it looks a little different, we are going to continue to run into problems teaching sexual integrity within the church. As well as getting women the help and support that they need. 

Sexual Integrity Over Sexual Purity

There has been a lot of push back against the purity culture of the 90s and early 2000s. I grew up in this age, and came out pretty unscathed compared to others. But I understand the lack of grace for women that did not make the same decisions or the shame that came from the education during this time that is negatively impacting women today. 

One of the major themes that came out of the purity culture movement is that men have a strong desire for sex that they cannot quench. Young teen girls, such as myself, were often taught that once we got into marriage, our husband’s main means of communication would be through sexual intimacy: we would need to learn to love them physically as they should love us emotionally by listening to us talk (the supposed equivalent to the male desire for sex). Men were given far more information about sexual purity and how to recognize and control their urges, while most of the time women were reminded about the important of modesty*. This messaging was not only unhelpful because it is simply not true. Women have the same desires and drives that men do (I am acknowledging that they do look and behave differently in expression). Pretending that women are not sexual beings do not only deservice the intricacy with which God designed us, but  it also restricts the help that women can get and heaps on the shame when sexuality becomes much harder as a woman than we have been allowed to admit. 

One of the counterpoints the church needs to focus on to combat this poor teaching, in both sexes and regardless of maritial status, is sexual integrity. J. Parker over at Hot, Holy, and Humorous laid out a really good argument for why sexual integrity is needed, not just sexual purity – or what we would define as staying a virgin until marriage. Unfortunately, I know just as many people that stayed virgins until they were married but allowed their mind to access or read material that was far from pure. Their bodies lay untouched, but their minds were just as active with sexualky explicit material as someone not seeking physical sexual purity. This is where I think we need to get it right with the next generation – encouraging them to seek sexual integrity above keeping their virginity. That will naturally follow. 

What do I mean by sexual integrity? I mean that all we do, say, and think honors God’s design and plan for sexuality in humanity, in every season and relationship that we are in. And if you begin to do a deep dive into the picture that our sexual design represents, you will be awed at the purpose and plan God had for us. 

Sex Has a Purpose

There are many resources you can read that explain how the design of sexual intercourse mirrors the pictures of Christ and His church. The man, representing God, rising to the occasion (sorry if you blushed – I hope you giggled) and then imparting a part of himself into the women, just as God imparts His Spirit into us. The woman chooses to receive, submit (or be willing to accept an equal value, not less than, another teaching we are working on correcting in the church) and accept the part of the man to make and to multiply what he has given. Just as we are to cultivate disciples using the gifting and works of the Spirit God gives us. You can read more about this dynamic in books such as Mama Bear Apologetics Guide to Sexuality by Hillary Morgan Ferrer and Amy Davison or Wild at Heart  by John Eldredge. The union between man and woman, the raw vulnerability that is shared beyond just being naked in body, is an amazing picture of the union between God and the Church. This reason alone should spur us to seek sexual integrity in body, mind and spirit. 

The vulnerability we end up sharing is with the spouse that we have committed ourselves to loving and accepting in this act of intimately knowing someone. When we denigrate this act by having multiple partners, we degrade the beauty of the vulnerability by inviting in fears or risks of comparison. It should want us to think with sacred awe about this union, not wanting to salaciously satisfy our own itches through the consumption of media, written or watched. We should want to seek integrity with our souls by honoring and thanking God for the gift He created, this little picture of what the union between us and Him will look like, no matter what season we are in. That can mean honoring that God wants us to wait for this union in our single years (as we wait patiently and eagerly for Him to reunite with us in the clouds) or to honor the union by engaging it in regularly and often as we can with the spouse that God has given us. We should not shy away from the beautiful picture of pure nakedness before a holy God that He has given us, but know and respect its awe and power. 

This, of course, leads to two things we need to be careful not to do and one acceptance. 

Reframing Sex 

One thing we need to be careful not to do is not to put sex on a pedastal. Sex is a beautiful gift between husband and wife, two people who have made a covenant vow (greater than any civic law) im the eyes of God, but it is not the only gift that He has given us as humans. To covet sex means that we could end up wandering into places or relationships we should not enter into, because we are not willing to wait for when the timing is right. This eagerness for sex should not be greater than our eagerness to serve God well, watching as the time draws near to Him returning to be fully reunited with us (Hebrews 10:25). We should want to wait for the revelation of the mystery of sexual union (even though some of us may not experience that on earth) as we wait for the revelation of the mystery of God’s coming back to the earth (one we will all experience, and one that has a greaert impact on us than any sexual union on earth). 

We must also be careful not to dismiss that God provides grace to those that operate outside of His plan. Especially for those who made decisions before coming to the saving knowledge of Christ and were dead in their transgressions as they were enemies of God (Ephesians 2:1, Romans 5:10). For the Christian that has sinned against God, He still offers His grace for a repentant heart (Romans 8:1) and a chance to be made whole again in Him. Sadly, even with these graces, Christians who have made the choice to sin against God will still have to suffer consequences. And while all sin is equal to God in its offensiveness, not all of it is equal to God in its fall out. Sexual sin led to significant destruciton in the Old Testament (it led to Samson’s downfall several times in Judges, and David’s sexual sins were the catalyst to the dividing of the kingdom that would appear later in 1st and 2nd Samuel and 1st and 2nd Kings). While Christians need support and help walking through the consequences that come about from having trespassed, God can and does bring grace and restoration to the one who is truly repentant and seeks His face for forgiveness. If we have earnestly left behind our sexual sin, we are redeemed and made new through Him. 

The final step that is required by the church in order to take back the sacredness of sex is to acknowledge that women are sexual creatures. By accepting that sex was made for both men and women, we can begin to actually provide help for couples and for single women in the church, services that have been lacking for years as women have been neglected and left behind in the conversation about sexuality. 

It is important to note the creation account in Genesis. God made Adam first and told Him to care for the earth (Genesis 2:7, 15). He gave Adam the instruction to “work it and keep it”. He then told Adam that He would provide food for him to eat in the garden – except for one fruit (which I think it is very important, in an aside, that we are specifically told that Adam received this command before Eve was even created – men, it is important that you shepherd and care for your wives well.) There was no mention about fulfilling Adam’s sexual needs. Some time passed and God saw that Adam needed companionship. So He created Eve from a part of Adam as a Helper fit for him (Genesis 2:18). 

We should note that the Hebrew word for helper: עֵ֫זֶר (phonetically pronounced and usually spelled ezer). Ezer is a fascinating concept to study, and the word is used later in Scripture in correlation to Jesus. The Ezer was not just a helper but a hero; its meaning was a picture of someone dropping what they were working on to rescue/save the one in need. Eve was created as a helpmate who could drop what she was working on to help her husband out– like a hero helping out a civilian, not like one whose task is less priority than the other. I highly recommend reading John and Stasi Eldredge’s book Captivating which explores more of the powerful role God made for women. Notice, however, that this role does not imply that she was for his sexual need. In fact, the first time that the idea of one flesh, a euphemism we use for sexual relationship, doesn’t appear until verse 24: 

This is why a man is to leave his father and mother and stick with his wife, and they are to be one flesh.

Genesis 2:24

Again, this is not a picture of a man leaving his mother and father to have his sexual needs taken care of. Instead, it is the picture that they both were to benefit from this sexual union as a way of bonding closer to one another. It was meant for both parties, not just for the man in the relationship. Instead, the command was given from the perspective of the man (leaving his family and sticking to his wife) because he was designed to be the head of the family. Not because his needs were more important than hers (which we can see in the idea of the ezer). 

Thiswouls lead us to the conlusion that we need to get rid of this idea that man was created for sex and woman simply to be his sexual partner. Instead, both were naked and fully vulnerable in the garden (and probably doing the thing, y’know) and neither were ashamed. Because it was the two of them and their God, the way a sexual union should be in a marraige relationship. (Yes, I do disqualify marriages between non believers as covenant marriages. While they may honor the picture God intended for marriage and may receive a blessing, they leave out the most important piece of the puzzle). 

Therefore, the notion that sexuality in marriage should solely be for the husband when he wants it, when he desires it, and how he wants it should not be the main teaching. Submission sexually from both spouses should be the goal. The more I research and learn, I believe that spouses should honor the physical relationship and sacred union together as frequently and with as much reverence as the church should communion. This means that there are times when the husband may need to lay down his urge to be intimate with his wife to serve her in other ways. And this may mean the wife has care to serve her husband when his sexual desire is higher than hers. And vice versa for relationships that have switched drives. 

Women Have Sexual Brokenness

Seeing a woman as a sexual being, however, requires us to acknowledge two others truths in the church we have swept under the rug. And these truths are leading to damage and bondage in the lives of women. 

First – that women have as much propensity to wander into sexual bondage and impurity as men do. This means that women do engage in PORNOGRAPHY. 

Often, this pornography is the “acceptable” type of romance books and smut novels. I cannot tell you the countless books I have started reading, recommended by women in the church, that have some of the most graphic and frequent descriptions of sexual union between a man and a woman– sometimes even the same sex. This is to say, I don’t think we need to avoid books that mention sexual relationships between people – but ladies, Outlander and Fifty Shades of Grey are pure porn. The whole purpose of those books is to titillate and create desirable sexual fantasy for women. This type of pornography is no doubt more acceptable because it does not create secondary victims that that visual pornography world does. There are no physical people that are being trafficked or exploited. But just like visual pornography, It does not do a woman’s mind any good to fill our thoughts with such callous treatment of the union between man and woman. And to say that it is not a big deal, that you are discovering what works for you, how would you feel if your husband was exploring pornography to figure out what gets him going? Often, smut, like visual porn, creates unrealistic expectations of what sex is and should be like. 

We also cannot ignore, however, that visual porn is becoming as much of a pitfall for young women.

Now, I think the whole approach to pornography in the church is appallling. I have worked in and around several youth groups I have noticed two very disheartening trends: 

1. If porn use is mentioned, it is not up until middle to late high school. This is a HUGE problem, and one that parents also need to address. The average exposure to pornography is at 11 years old – that is a FIFTH OR SIXTH grader! These children often don’t even know what they are looking at, and the allure and fascination that pornography has (because it can make both males AND females feel excited, especially at the onset of puberty!) can sow the seeds of addiction early. This means that by the time that the teenager is learning about the dangers of pornography addiction in 11th or 12 grade (the average age I’ve personally seen churches discussing this with youth), that child has been hooked for 6-7 years. Six to seven years of damage! We need to do better as a Church, and parents need to not be so naïve. We would be better to prepare our children for the evils in the world than to shelter them. 

2. Pornography addiction resources and help is often provided for young men. So the young boys that have been battling addictions for years (which only gets worse as they get older – over 68% of the male population of the Church is BATTLING a pornography addiction – I’ve seen as high as 77%)  are getting help too little, too late. And the girls? The girls are being left behind. The study linked shows that at least 25% of married church women (if not higher) access porn monthly – and I can guarantee you that the addiction did not start in their adulthood. However, they are least likely to get the talk and resources for getting help. Instead, in separate sessions, they are often encouraged to dress modestly and to know that boys may pressure them to have sex. Nearly a quarter or more of our young girls are struggling and yet we cannot even acknowledge that they have sexuality in small groups. 

While the church needs to take pornography addiction seriously as a whole (again, 69% of pastors say pornography usage is a huge problem in their churches) and start speaking out about it and against it from our pulpits, we also need to acknowledge the forgotten casualties. The women battling pornography addictions. 

Thankfully, there are several ministries for women stepping forward to provide resources, support, and accountability. If you, a friend, a loved one, or a daughter are struggling with pornography in any form (visual or literary) here are several organizations you can reach out to for help and to know that you are not alone, you are not a freak of nature, and that because you are a sexual being designed by God you also can struggle: 

• The Victory Collective 

• The Beggar’s Daughter

• The Grace Spot

But I Want To Have Sex…He Doesn’t!

The other reality we need to recognize, if we are to accept that women are sexual beings, is that some of them (probably most of them) do want to have sex. While the common mantra in marriages is that the man is always begging while the woman won’t put out, this isn’t the reality for all, or even most marriages. I’ve seen the statistic that about 80% of marriages have men that want sex more (which I don’t think is accurate because it does not take into account in the percentage of couples who have an about equal drive where the woman and the man want sex about as much as the other). Statistics have recently shown that as high as 30% to as low as 20% of marriages have a woman who has a higher drive than their husband. This means that  about one of every five wives is counting the days since she and husband last had sex, wishing he would pursue her a little more, spending hours talking to her husband again and again about her desire, and then being told by media that it’s because she isn’t sexy enough or desierable enough for her spouse to want her (and sometimes even having this communicated by her husband, too). No doubt this number is going to continue to increase as the number of men addicted to porn rises (though there is not always a correlation between porn and lower interest in men, it does exist). 

There are often few resources for these women who often feel like freaks of nature and who cannot join in with the other ladies at bible study functions who lament that their husbands can’t keep their hands off them or are enjoying a happy and fulfilling sex life with their husband. These ladies often shrink off to the shadows, their self confidence and femininity attacked by the loud (and incorrect) voices coming from media and marriage studies that affirm that a husband’s need is sex and the wife should just give in. What should she do, then, when her husband’s need seems so little and she has found that hers has overtaken his. She is often in need of sexual intimacy and union when he would rather go to sleep for the evening or spend a little more time at work or playing his video game. 

While there are dynamics in the higher drive wife/lower drive husband that should be addressed – is there low T? does he have a current or past porn struggle that rewired his brain? is there issues with religious shame? – a husband’s lower drive does not always mean that there is something wrong with him. While we have been taught, and studies show, that men seem to want sex more than women (though it should be noted these studies are now being done after centuries of sexual repression aimed towards women specifically – it will be interesting to see how this dynamic changes in light of sexually liberating women, especially those in married Christ centered relationships), it does not mean that man are and should be automatically wired that way. They could be wired with a lower desire than their wives, while their wives are designed for higher. However, because the stigma remains, lower drive men do not seem to want to accept or seek help for why they have the lower drive. It is much easier and culturally acceptable to accuse the woman of being improper and a nymphomaniac than to address a problem. Churches and marriage ministries often never address or provide resources for this dynamic as they do the “typical” dynamic, which can leave many higher drive wives feeling alone and like something is wrong with them. 

Thankfully, the tides are beginning to turn and more recognition and support is being given to these women. As well as more marriage resources acknowledging that the wife in the marriage has a higher desire than their husband. J. Parker of Hot, Holy, and Humorous has stepped up to the plate for women in a marriage with a higher drive wife/lower drive husband dynamic to provide support, information, resources, and a community. If you find yourself in a marriage where you are the higher drive wife and you are feeling alone, Parker’s work is invaluable. 

A Change of Mind, A Change of Heart

One of the ways the church could serve women better without kowtowing to the feminst movement is by accepting women as equal to men in their basic design. What I mean by this is that we were both created to worship and reflect Him through our bodies – whether that is eating cleanly, exercising, or practicing sexual integrity outside and inside of marraige. By accepting that women are sexual beings, made this way by God, just as men are, we can provide better resources and guides for young women that can help them pursue sexual integrity and not just waiting until marriage to have sex. We can also give greater resources to women that find themselves struggling in areas that have typically been labeled, erroneously, a “male” problem: whether that is pornography addiction or a higher desire for sex inside of a marriage. 

It is well and good that we are working toward righting the wrongs of how women have been taken advantage of sexually by culture and the church. The Baptist church has a lot of house cleaning to do like the Catholic one did – always the dangers of having organized religion. However, we should also aim in our church to serve women well with their sexuality by not only giving them autonomy, but also giving them back their power. To recognize that sexuality and the sexual relationship was created for women as much as it was for men. 

By recognizing that we women are sexual creatures and, because of this fact, we can further help in redeeming the sacredness of sex from the perverseness that culture has tagged it with. We can do so by keeping the dignity and fulfilling the role God has given us at our origin. The Ezer – the one who can help man when he is in need and who has the strength to help him rise up as woman rises along with him. Let us not forget as we look to redeem sexuality that we need our Christian brothers at our side– this was the way we were designed. Not a competition or a value hierarchy, but an equal footing with different rules under the headship of Christ. 

May we bless Him with our feminine sexuality by running fast after integrity. This goal was not just for our brothers, but was for the women of the Word as well. 

NOTES

*If you’re coming to this blog page to see me rip apart the modesty argument – you’re not going to get it here. I taught middle school in the early 2020s and I saw more MIDDLE SCHOOL girls – y’know, children – walking into school wearing lingerie pieces and screaming that it was their right. I’m just as tired by the push back against the modesty culture, to be extremely honest as I watch young women sexualize themselves and then hear culture telling young boys they shouldn’t look at the girls sexually – but when their wives wear the same pieces in the bedroom that should equate to sexual attraction. How absolutely confusing for the young men in our generation! 

There were some downsides to Home and Careers. When I was 11, I knew I wanted to be a mom by that point in my life, so trying to figure out a career was something that did not interest me in the least. And I was shamed for wanting to plan my life around raising other people – but that is a topic for a later blog post.  Being able to have classes later on, however, that taught me how to cook allowed me to learn how to feed my body properly and prepare a balanced meal. My mom was not much of a home cook, and I think taking this class really taught me how to cook and bake, something I enjoy doing and am more confident to try things that seem more difficult. 

Taking Back Skills from Culture

Notice, I asked this of people that are around my age (early 30s) or older. My sister, who is in her early 20s, took Family and Consumer Science courses that taught her a little bit of sewing and cooking. But by the time she got to high school, the kitchens had been fully taken over by the special education program to teach their students basic life skills. There were no longer classes for students in mainstream education to teach them these basic life skills. Instead, the schools had pushed even more advanced course programs and college programs. 

We have lost the arts of cooking, sewing, and being able to do average handiwork. Having friends that were able to change the oil in their car was a rare gift (and they were all usually homeschooled…). There seems to be a pride these days in not being able to cook something more than pulling out a breaded product from the freezer and popping it into an air fryer or a toaster oven. Even large ovens seem to be out of vogue. The idea of making your own sauce or learning how to bake bread is becoming something that is seen as a “homesteader” skill or worthy of going on a baking competition (shoutout to The Great British Bake Off) instead of a relatively easy skill that our fore parents could do without gas or electric ovens.

I didn’t think much of it until my sister suggested that I watch the documentary Eve in Exile with Rebekah Merkle. It is a documentary I highly encourage all Christian women eager to understand what the bible actually teaches about womanhood and a woman’s role within the body of the church by using the original language of the Scriptures. Along with this, Merkle also explores how the history of feminism has made the waters even more murky. Current culture has diminished  women’s unique role in the life of the church body and the family, instead  mocking, smearing, or martyring these tasks as women have clamored to be “equal” with men. One of the beautiful things we have lost is the ability to create and to make, to have practical skills that bring beautiful to our homes, blessings to our families and friends, and could even be turned into a lucrative hobby if we felt called that way. 

I am hoping that we can lead the generation of exiles of women who desire biblical womanhood, a desire that will not be accepted in a culture that continually gives itself over to the enemy, in learning how to take back some of the glory that God ascribed to us. 

This does not mean that the practical skills we learn are subjected to women only– but can we accept that when we, as women, put our hands to these tasks, they come out in a more tenderly beautiful way than when a man does it? There is no need to hide that when we approach a task, the product that comes out has a different kind of grace because we have a different perspective of approaching it that a man does not. And I do not think there are “exceptions” to these rules – you may have a more “masculine” personality, but when you are approach a task, you are still a woman, the glory of the glory (according to Merkle’s breakdown of the original language), and the touch of your woman hand is in the product. We should take pride in the way we as women can take what is given us and multiply it.

Let us bring back these practical skills to our daily lives. This may mean that we need to spend less time on Netflix or scrolling through our social media feeds, but that could be an even bigger blessing to us than being able to accomplish. 

Skills and the Age of Social Media

One of the skills I wish more women took pride in is preparing food. Not every person needs to become a gourmet cook or create cakes that we see on Chopped. But you can learn to make certain dishes. This is where the beauty of the internet does come in handy. There are many resources and places which provide basic recipes that are not only delicious, but are also good for you. Many are hard to mess up too badly if the directions are followed carefully. 

One of the blessings that has come about from being diagnosed with an autoimmune condition, is the need to learn to cook food that I can eat but cannot get pre-made because of all the stabilizers or added ingredients used in prepackaged food. I have learned to cook for myself using an extremely limited diet, including how to spice up dishes (I have a nightshade allergy due to my Hashimotos which makes navigating food another nightmare in my life) by accessing resources like Unbound Wellness. I was intimidated at first to use ingredients we don’t normally see in most American recipes, but after trying them a time or two, my confidence grew. I make these recipes out of necessity (so I don’t get tired of meat and sweet potatoes all  time), but the need to stretch myself has shown me how I can accomplish a task that can seem intimidating at first. Learning how to make dishes I can eat has also allowed me to gain confidence to make dishes from scratch for my family and friends. I have learned to make great vodka sauce from recipes put out by resources such as Half Baked Harvest. While I would not serve this to my husband or friends every day, the option of making it at home and using products that I can get as fresh as possible (except for tomatoes– I will never boil tomatoes ever again) without adding stabilizers or excess sugar is a blessing to both the ones I serve and to me for being able to provide it. 

I know that boxes such as Hello Fresh can make life easier, but if we could carve out some time to really do our own research and shopping (which may mean cutting back television time during the week or on a weekend), can teach us the skills how to thoughtfully prepare for even the simplest mean we can serve, even something as basic as learning how to make delicious seared chicken (Whole30 has a great, easy to follow guide that takes about 20 -25 minutes!). You don’t need to get the precooked chicken at Trader Joe’s– you can make it yourself at home with very little effort once the skill is mastered. Again, there is no need to learn how to make extravagant recipes. But even homemade pizza dough, basic bread, or a pasta dish are not hard tasks to complete. They just take the discipline to carefully follow directions and the commitment to carve out time. 

Another skill that I have seen people on Instagram begin to embrace is growing their own garden at home. There are so many resources on the internet that can help even the most novice of gardeners create a small herb garden on their back patio. I say this as a self confessed black thumb – I am slowly learning how to care for plants and how to investigate how best to care for them. I have many friends that have begun growing their own food in the spaces provided – whether in raised beds or containers or even patio beds. The ability to grow food not only allows you to know what you are fueling your body with, but it also allows you to have a food source that is not dependent on other people. This is especially beneficial this year as inflation and scarcity is causing food prices to rocket. I know I have friends who are currently cutting their food bills in half by being able to harvest their own vegetables and fruit from their backyard. Some of my friends have even been blessed with land and ability to have their own chickens and are able to provide fresh eggs. I know that these friends have had to put in the time, effort, and education into successfully providing these food sources – but how much effort do we put into other parts of life that we could share or transfer to this one? 

Even picking up a simple skill like sewing can be a blessing or source of income for you in the future. It can help you repair clothing you would otherwise have to get rid of, or can even save you money in creating an outfit for a fraction of the price you can get in stores. I have been fascinated with following BringingBackSewing on Instagram– she provides support on how to begin your sewing journey as well as shows the beautiful outfits she is able to create in a few days’ time. Looking into her story, the hobby began as a way for her to pass time as a newlywed married to a man going through a time consuming career path. She does not sell her products, but she does make money as a pattern tester and creator. I am sure she was not expecting to have either of these income sources to rise up from a hobby she was learning to productively pass the time. One woman from a childhood church has learned how to make beautiful quilts that she either gives to close family or friends to celebrate their newborns or has even sold the products to make a little extra income. The quilts she has learned to make grow more and more beautiful and intricate every year as she spends more time working on them. A practical skill she took on in order to learn to make something beautiful and one that turned out to not be impossible. What a way to bless others! I have just as many friends who have become great knitters and crocheters. They have been able to bless new mothers with beautiful blankets or create hats or gloves to sell in the colder region I hail from. 

Not all of us will succeed in every area of these skills. We may learn to patch a piece of clothing, but we may never create a fashion piece. We may learn to create a simple nutritious dinner, but it may not be a five star restaurant meal. We may have a garden that consists of vegetables and herbs that are near impossible to kill because we are not able to grow vegetables that need a little more time and tender care. All that matters is that we have learned how to start, how to care for ourselves in the smallest of ways. And you may never know what talents or abilities you can unlock or build upon because you showed up and you tried. You failed, but you tried again. Because, like most skills, talent can only get you so far. Some of the best in the fields we admire became that way because of dedication and time spent working on the skill, not because they were good at it in the first couple go arounds. 

Practice Not Perfection

Learning practical life skills is not something we can always perfect on the first try. I get frustrated by this because I often want to be able to get it right on the first go. Practical skills demand that we show up time and again. That when the dish was too heavily salted, we learn from that experience and we do something different the next time we approach it. To learn the appropriate stitches for a garment may take trial and error, and learning the process. 

May we become a generation of women that are not intimidated by the following descriptions of the Proverbs 31 woman: 

She seeks wool and flax,

    and works with willing hands.

Proverbs 31:13 

She rises while it is yet night

    and provides food for her household

    and portions for her maidens.

Proverbs 31:15

She puts her hands to the distaff,

    and her hands hold the spindle.

Proverbs 31:19 

She makes bed coverings for herself;

    her clothing is fine linen and purple.

Proverbs 31:22

And not be afraid that this description is too hard for us to accomplish. Let us take the blessings from living in the age of the internet and instant connection to use the resources to help us learn how to clothe our household, feed our families and friends, and create products that make our homes and the places we touch more lovely. These abilities are often not difficult, they take time and discipline. And in a culture that has abused both of these, let us stand out among the rest. 

Let us become women that do not shy away or find it demeaning to learn how to cook, clean, sew, and care for a house. These are not tasks that need to be sneered at or rejected. They are a part of being Kingdom dwellers and honoring God on earth as in Heaven. 

What practical skill do you wish you had? What is keeping you from pursuing how to do it? And what resources do you need to support your ability to learn? 

This episode's guest is Angela Ruhlig. Angela is a former secondary education English teacher who has traded her role in the classroom for one at home raising 3 beautiful babies with her husband. She and I discuss the importance of keeping our eyes on Jesus not matter the season of life, how we can honor the work of motherhood as we can honor other occupations, and the importance of representing the gospel no matter where we are in life. 

For more information about my ministry, Not Yet 31, you can find most of my content on my website at: Not Yet 31;

You can also follow me on Instagram at _notyet31

Any questions, comments or guest suggestions can be sent to lydia@notyet31.com

Please leave a favorite and a comment if you enjoyed this episode.

An Instagram reel popped up in my feed the other day with a young woman lamenting (ratherly cheekily): 

“When will my healing ever be done?” 

It feels like once we have begun to make some progress on working on one aspect of our life, another seems to crumble just down the way. And we are stretching to try to block another hole in the dam. 

For some personalities, this is exhilarating. Each day is something new. A new challenge, a new way to grow and to stretch. They lean into the excitement with reckless abandon. 

I wish that my personality leant to this. I am not one that prefers to charge forward without a plan. I want to anticipate the turn in the road, have a layout of what could be at each fork,  and take hours deliberating over which direction I should go. I have heard time and again that I just need to relax, to let go of control, and that reality for me is both exhausting and absolutely scary. An existence that has come about because of personality and past trauma. A maelstrom of being a person that likes order, and has needed that order to survive in emotionally dangerous situations. 

Not Yet Complete

Along with this need to know what happens next, I want to feel like I have accomplished something, like I have achieved a goal and can now move on to the next task. I am extremely goal oriented and love the days when I can get to everything I wrote down on my checklist. 

This journey of learning what it is to be a Christ follower and to be a woman of praise has led to moments where it can feel simpler to give up. This does not in any way mean that I do not recognize the grace and the reward that comes with persistence. But sometimes that persistence can feel like a meaningless grind day after day…

(…Is this a good time to throw in that I loved my philosophy classes in college?)

I want to be honest about this because I know that I am not the only one. The call that Proverbs 31:25 gives us – to laugh at the days to come – can be really simple for some people. They can relinquish that control and trust to God because they are able to see His promises and witness His grace, they know they can rest in the hope that God provides. For some of us, however, it can be more difficult. We know that God is good and sovereign, we know that God is enough, but if we are really honest with ourselves, we can be tempted to feel that He is all of those things to other people. He can direct and guide and bring hope…to roads that are not our own.

Maybe that has come about because the idea of God as our parent is a real thing to us–but our parents were often absent, did not follow through on promises or commitments that were made time and time again. Maybe we are in a hard season with the Lord right now, wrestling with Him over the hows and the whys, and it can feel  like God wants us to suffer to learn a lesson before He extends us grace. Maybe the idea of giving up control to anyone can be a terrifying prospect, because everyone that we have met on earth has abused that trust and has shown us that we were fools for leaning into them the way we did. 

It can be extremely easy to say to you “But those are people and they are not God.” And that is true. We have to be careful that we are not basing God off of our experiences, but that is far easier said than done. It takes a lot of healing from the sins of others to sometimes see God for Who He is. 

Again, more works in progress we wish were over already. 

Sadly, that is the reality of living in a sinful world– because of the marring of what God made, the earth and its order has been left in imperfection. And yet again, the vagueness of the English language is what fails us because we see perfection as “when all we hoped for happens”. We forget that the word perfection in the literal definition does not mean that everything is alright and going the way that we want it to– perfection literally means completion. We are not in a state of completion because we are not in our perfected state, made whole by God. 

There are glimpses of that completion here on earth, moments when we can respond in the grace of the Spirit. When the day goes better than we anticipated. But we are caught right back in the loop of imperfection when the next day we respond with harshness, or what we took time to build does not come to fruition.

This incompleteness can be felt in every aspect of the Proverbs 31 woman: the moments when she does not respond to her children or her husband or those around her with grace and kindness. The moments when she did not prepare for the season ahead because she was distracted by the lure of the temporary. When her business does not pan out the way she had hoped, all the money and efforts bring in nothing but losses and discouragement. When the anxieties of tomorrow are outweighing the peace of today and she weeps at the season to come instead of rejoicing. 

In those moments, it can be so tempting to just give up. To believe that these promises are not meant for us, that we will never amount to the woman that God has called us to be. The prescription in the last book of Proverbs is meant for another woman who is better and more stylish and more gritty than us. We do not have what it takes. 

Victory in the Bones

It is in these moments of defeat, when it feels like we will never amount to anything, that we need to lean in closer to the promises of God. Everything God has told us will not come up void. He is a God who delivers, but He is also a God who does not deliver in the ways that we always expect. Deliverance came through people that often seemed like they would never amount to anything special, would not be someone who could be praised. Women like Tamar, who was tricked and rejected and did what she could in order to preserve herself (and the lineage of her family). Like Rahab, a woman who was both a prostitute and an enemy Gentile. Who used lies in order to save the spies in Jericho, but who God redeemed and brought into His royal family. Women like Bathsheba who were called in, most likely powerless, and taken advantage of for her beauty instead of her character. Who lost everything in the heat of a moment because of a man who stopped looking at God and looked instead at his inward wants and desires. She became the one we seem to blame in the church for David’s downfall, when she was merely acting in obedience to the king. We do not know how willingly involved she was in the events that followed that evening. But we do know that God redeemed her, eventually gave her a son that would be the wisest in the world, and allowed her to reap in the inheritance of being in the lineage of Jesus. 

These were all women who could have at any point accepted that they were nothing, that God could not use them and did not see them. Instead, they did their best to remain obedient to God even after terrible circumstances, and He raised them up despite their choices. 

God is willing and able to do the same for us. When it feels like we have disqualified ourselves from the promises and plans He has for His people, those are the moments when He can most use us because we no longer are resting on our own laurels. We are no longer concerned about trying to appear pleasing and attractive to the world, but instead we are moving toward the grace of the throne that we so desperately need. 

Sometimes that throne can be hard to see, sometimes it can seem like God’s affections and attentions are turned toward something or someone else. The devil does all that he can to try to convince us that we are disqualified from the blessings and grace of God because of where we are, who we are, the decisions we have made, the poor witness we have been. Yet God did not even disqualify the dry bones in the desert, the people that no longer had flesh and blood, were no longer living for Him. 

Instead, He turned to Ezekiel, the man that should have been a priest but instead was a prisoner, and asked “Son of man, can these bones live?” 

In which Ezekiel, the man who could have just as easily disbelieved that God could bring any promise to light as he was held captive by his enemy, replied “LORD God, only you know.” (Ezekiel 37:3)

And from there, God called the dry bone to life. He brought them from bleached relics on the ground to flesh and blood, the bones rattling to life. And from there, He commanded Ezekiel: 

“Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, son of man. Say to it: This is what the Lord God says: Breath, come from the four winds and breathe into these slain so that they may live!”. So I prophesied as He commanded me; the breath entered them, and they came to life and stood on their feet, a vast army.

Ezekiel 37:9-10

By God’s power in him, Ezekiel was able to command the lifeless bodies to live. God was able to use Ezekiel, the forgotten prisoner, to bring about an army of the LORD. In what ways can He use you, dear sister, in the dry places of your desert, to bring about life for Him? How can He use you as a prophet to speak words of renewal to the dead places around you? 

Ezekiel was not freed from his place of captivity. The Babylonians were not overthrown by this army. There was so much work that needed to be done. However, God’s power, purposes, and promises never left that wasteland. He needed the Israelites where He placed them, so that He could bring about a bigger and better promise in later times that would bring salvation to us all.. 

In what ways, in this season you have to speak the breath of God into the dry bones around you, is God using this to prepare to fulfill the purpose and the promise of the next coming? 

In the moments when it seems like what you are doing can have no purpose, no meaning. That your existence is one of no impact. Know that God is using you for greater things than you can ever imagine. I used to wonder if the people that were not mentioned in the Bible were ones that God cared less for. And I believe that this idea is a very Western, social media driven understanding of fame. That if I do not have the followers or the platform or the notoriety that what I am doing in life has less meaning, less value, less purpose. Yet men and women in history that had no name in the records were responsible for carrying those stories. Were the ones that raised and influenced and protected the people that God did name in the books. Their meaning was not any less. Their struggle still mattered. 

And so does our struggle. So does the daily laying down of control, some days we are more perfect (complete) at doing this task than others. When the journey seems to be too tough, rely on the knowledge that God sees and knows. That it may take generation upon generation to know the impact of your struggle, the reality that your obedience in the tough times, when you wanted to give up, will come to fruition. And that you are not alone in your giving up. But it comes with consequences. 

When we look at the story of Gideon, we remember that he led a small army against larger foes, was able to win a battle with far fewer men and didn’t lose a single life. Gideon’s small existence as a judge in a struggling nation did not disqualify him from doing great things for God. But his journey did not end well. Instead, he gave up and gave in to the societal pressures around him, and his family and people were left whoring themselves to the idols of the day (Judges 8:33). Forgetting the promise that God led them to. Forgetting what God was able to do in the moment when it felt like it was better to just give up. 

May we in the moments we are faltering, want to leave a better legacy. I pray that you can make the conscious decision to trust that God is better, even when He doesn’t feel that way, or when circumstances seem to tell you otherwise. That you can trust in Him with the failure of where you are at, because that is when He is able to empower you. 

Completeness in Humility

But he gives greater grace. Therefore he says:

God resists the proud

but gives grace to the humble

James 4:6 

In the days when it feels like you are failing. When you are keenly aware that you are never going to arrive on this earth. And all of that is disheartening, it makes you want to throw in the towel. Do one thing for me. 

Take the next step. It may be painful, it may seem like it is stretching your muscles so far. Every inch forward comes with excruciating pain and soul numbing exhaustion. Please know I am not saying this as a compassionless cheerleader on the side of the play. Know that I am on this journey with you. Some days that next foot fall is an eternity and it is pointless. Completely meaningless in the face of it all. But God cannot bless those that do not respond to Him, even if the response is just getting up the next morning. Even if the response is trying to do the same thing again and again in the face of failure. 

In that next step, confess that you cannot do this without God. It is only in the surrender that we can find true grace and success. Pray that He can take what you are not able to do and multiply it. Use it for His Kingdom. Once we get our eyes off of what we think we need to accomplish and shift our gaze to trying to accomplish something small for God and God alone that He can use as an echo of something greater, that is when the defeat feels less crushing.

Claim your place as a citizen of Heaven on earth, knowing that completion will not come now but in the afterlife – or, really, the fuller life–\ when we are with God once again. That what may seem like accomplishments and success here in the sinful dominion may not be what God wanted as victory in His Heavenly Kingdom. Know the promises that He has given you, rest in them:

‘Just one thing: As citizens of heaven, live your life worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or am absent, I will hear about you that you are standing firm in one spirit, in one accord, contending together for the faith of the gospel, not being frightened in any way by your opponents. This is a sign of destruction for them, but of your salvation—and this is from God. For it has been granted to you on Christ’s behalf not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him, since you are engaged in the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I have.”

Philippians 1:27-30 

In the moments where it seems pointless to keep going on this journey, that it feels like you are always going to fail, put aside your pride and continue on bravely anyway. You are not the best judge of eternity, no matter all the tools you have collected to control the outcome. You are a poor leader. and you will never always be prepared. Do not let this reality exhaust you, but instead lean into it. Let it hurt. And know that while you cannot control the outcome of tomorrow, that God can. And He is always for you. 

He wants you to succeed, but He wants you to do so in the light of Heaven’s reward and not earthly glory. So even if you never get past a handful of followers, if you never earn a million dollars, your daily struggle was not for waste. Because every moment you wrestled with God, He was able to shape you just a little more into a better imitation of Himself. 

At the end of the day, you will reach completion. It is going to be a further away goal than you imagined. But, my dear sister, it will come. 

It can be extremely easy to write this off and tell someone to suck it up. We acknowledge that life is hard because of sin’s grip on humanity. Many hardened veteran Christians know the verses promising that life is going to be difficult. Trials are meant to grow us. Sanctification is a messy process. 

But that doesn’t make it any less hard. 

The tears still fall in the middle of the long weeks of waiting and hoping and praying. The heart wounds are fresh when we are mocked and ridiculed. It is difficult to have someone cut us off because we are holding a healthy, spiritual boundary. Putting it there doesn’t mean that the process of gatekeeping becomes a breeze. 

We can acknowledge that in tough times, we need to create a genuine and healthy safespace for us to be refreshed and refilled. God designed us this way– to want a place of protection and rest. He provides that for us, if we only listen to Him. 

He himself will rescue you from the bird trap,

from the destructive plague.

He will cover you with his feathers;

you will take refuge under his wings.

His faithfulness will be a protective shield.

You will not fear the terror of the night,

the arrow that flies by day,

the plague that stalks in darkness,

or the pestilence that ravages at noon.

Psalm 91:4-6

We need the encouragement from God and the encouragement from His body during these times. While Paul was a discerning father who disciplined many of the churches that he discipled, he still wrote the book of Philippians. This entire book focuses on encouraging a church to keep going. Paul recognizes that the hardship could lead to burnout and exhaustion, that it is just as important for us to push each other on as it is  to call each other out. Paul’s writing came from God’s prompting. God wants you to be encouraged in the midst of your difficult run toward Him. 

There are difficult things we go through in life. Yes, they are usually a part of our betterment, but they also require that we  to pour ourselves out. Many of us are aware of the phrase “you can’t pour from an empty cup”. But how many of us have taken the time to stop, slow down, and find restoration by Living Water and the people around us before driving through the difficulties of life? 

I am learning this lesson second hand as I am watching my mother-in-law go through some of the hardest moments of her life. 

My mother-in-law is one of the godliest women I know, who has a heart and desire for God. She is a fierce prayer warrior, her first answer to crisis usually being one of prayer and turning to God for answers. I am blessed that her son decided to marry me, because I received as much of a blessing through a relationship with her as I do my husband. My mother-in-law has been the answer to the prayer I’ve sent up to God for years, wanting counseling on how to mother in a loving and graceful way because I had a mother who has taught me the painful lesson on how not to parent. I adore my mother in law, and I know from being in my husband’s family that she is the woman whose husband and children rise up and praise her. She is deserving of it. 

But even prayer warriors go through difficult seasons, and my heart breaks for her as she walks this one. Her mother (my grandmother-in-law – I don’t even know if that’s the term) suffered a stroke mid spring that left her partially paralyzed and extremely disoriented. My mother-in-law has an autoimmune condition that greatly affects her body, so she is not able to care for her mother at home. Instead, she faithfully visits her mother in a long term care facility. She has dealt with her mother not remembering what year it is, she has dealt with walking through family scars and traumas all over again, and she has dealt with having to be the functioning adult when her mother cannot be. All the while, still being my grandmother’s child. Due to distance and differences in processing of the reality by other family members, my mother in law is on her own caring for her mother. My father-in-law is available to help and support, my brother-in-law is close by and does his best. My husband and I relocated further away, but we try to be supportive. 

But I know that in the midst of this, it is her mother. A unique relationship forged by biology and history, and that I am sure on many days my mother-in-law feels all alone. Parenting your parent, whether in childhood or old age, is not an easy journey to grow through. It is difficult and it is tiring, because that was never meant to be your role. Yet, so many people walk through this, especially when parents succumb to the human condition and grow old, dependent on others as they draw closer to God. 

Nothing on this road is easy. I recognize that despite all of our platitudes, none of them can reach the soul. That this place can feel like the loneliest desert. 

That maybe, the encouragement that we all need to hear every once in awhile, as we are walking these difficult roads with agonizing choices, is this: 

“I see how hard you are fighting. I know that you probably feel like you are all alone. I may never know what you are going through, I may never understand. But I know that God does. I know that as you lean into Him, He is going to give you the answers that are correct. That if you are listening to His voice, you are doing the right thing. This season is hard. This season may seem unending. All of that is okay to feel. It is okay to be tired. It is okay to throw in the towel some days and take a break. It is okay to rest.”

Whether you are in a season of having to care for an elderly or disabled parent, a season of financial difficulty or uncertainty, a season where your marriage may or may not make it, a season where you are grieving a loss, a season where you are feeling a little purposeless: 

“I see you struggling. I see you doing what you can in your frail humanity. And I know that God sees you. I know the answers may seem far away, I know that there is nothing I can say to explain why God does not seem to be answering. Why He is not bringing the healing or the hope your heart has been longing for. But I know that despite all of that, He cares. And so do I.” 

All I can say to you in this journey is that I am sorry that life is hard right now. I am sorry that things are not going the way you had hoped for them. I am sorry that you are dealing with such heavy emotions. 

Heed this warning: do not go the way of the world and throw out the idea of “thoughts and prayers”. Both of these are very powerful things– even if you are not getting the results that you had hoped for in the time you had willed them to be solved by. 

There is a reason why God told us to take every thought captive in Christ (2 Corinthians 10:9). Paul addresses this reality when talking about the spiritual plane in which we wrestle with real evil in the world. What you think can be powerful over what you believe about yourself. If you consistently have a thought life that doubts yourself and doubts God’s power, you are going to have a prayer and action life that reflects that. If you take a moment to stop the thoughts the enemy is whispering into your ear, to hold what you are thinking against the truth of God’s Word, you can begin to fight back against the feeling that you are alone. That God does not care. The devil wants to distance you in times of grief and hardship so that you cannot know God’s peace and you can doubt His goodness. The enemy wants you to feel like you are completely alone; that Christ’s suffering on earth was not like the suffering you are going through, that He can never understand. 

My friend, just because I am not capable of understanding your hurt, does not mean that the Lord does not. The One who sent His child to die on a cross for others – a death He didn’t deserve. The One who lived a human life and saw people He loved rejected, murdered, die of natural causes. Who was spat on, sent away from His hometown, run out of the religious centers He only wanted to see God’s glory magnified in. The One who still has His people reject Him. God has suffered much, and He deeply knows your pain. Especially your righteous pain. 

Finally, do not let the enemy hijack your prayers. Do not let him trick you into thinking that because they are not being answered on your time table, in your way, that God is not listening. Do not fall into the trap that you have to say a nice pretty prayer with a lot of “Heavenly Fathers” thrown in. That you must pray some recipe prayer given to you by some order in a church. Jesus Himself cried out to God asking why He had forsaken (or abandoned!) Him on the cross (Matthew 27:46). You can cry out to God anything that is on your heart. He is not looking for perfection to enter His throne room– He is looking for contrite hearts and broken spirits (Psalm 51:17). 

There is not a moment in your gnashing of teeth about your pain where God is going to throw up His hands and say “Yeah, this is too difficult, you’re on your own there, kiddo.” He is not our imperfect parent. He is not our fair weather friend. He is the moment in the book of Job that the main character needed – someone to sit with you in the grief as you process it out. He’s looking to be found in those quiet and heartbreaking moments. 

Take heart in knowing that there is no emotion that is going to run God off. There is no amount of anger or wailing or line of questioning that is going to make Him give up on you. These are things you must choose to believe, because you cannot base your understanding of God off your experience of humans. He is not going to fail you in the thousands of ways that people will. 

Hold fast to Him. Even in the hurt. Cry out to Him in the depths of despair. He is listening. And He is sending rescue in one form or another. He wants to deliver you from the miry pits. 

As you wait, reflect on the promises He has made you as you sit in the very real hurt. Tell your heart over and over that God is a God of promises that are always fulfilled:

He heals the brokenhearted

and bandages their wounds.

Psalm 147:3 

You yourself have recorded my wanderings.

Put my tears in your bottle.

Are they not in your book?

Psalm 56:8 

So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten,

The crawling locust,

The consuming locust

And the chewing locust,

My great army which I sent among you.

You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,

And praise the name of the Lord your God,

Who has dealt wondrously with you;

And My people shall never be put to shame.

Then you shall know that I am in the midst of Israel:

I am the Lord your God

And there is no other.

My people shall never be put to shame.

Joel 2:25-27

I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and enjoy the good life. It is also the gift of God whenever anyone eats, drinks, and enjoys all his efforts. I know that everything God does will last forever; there is no adding to it or taking from it. God works so that people will be in awe of him. Whatever is, has already been, and whatever will be, already is. However, God seeks justice for the persecuted.

Ecclesiastes 3:12-15

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation. If we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings that we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that as you share in the sufferings, so you will also share in the comfort.

2 Corinthians 1:3-7 

God sees your pain. I see your pain. It is all real. It is all important. Do not let the devil discourage you in the midst of this. Seek out the protection under God’s wings. Find hope there. Find rest. 

One of the best books I read in my (very long) season of singleness was Debby Jones and Jackie Kendall’s Lady in Waiting: Becoming God’s Best While Waiting for Mr. Right. The entire premise of the book, and one that I think we need to encourage more in young women in Christ, is that you are not going to attract a man of worth if you are not a woman of worth. 

What I mean by this is: you are not going to attract a godly husband who pursues the Lord and His will if you yourself are not doing this. The concept makes a lot of sense and is entirely true, yet how many of us have focused on ourselves instead of the other person? 

After getting married, my husband and I struggled with a lot of normal things couples struggle with. We were married in the Time of Covid and our state and church neglected the gathering together of believers during this time. We did not have a place we went to regularly (outside of a virtual platform) that poured into us. Thankfully, we were friends with several couples that took us under their wing at this time to help mentor and guide us. We are so grateful they did. 

In this season, I began to listen to a lot of podcasts to get advice. One of the podcasts I stumbled upon was One Extraordinary Marriage. Tony and Alisa DiLorenzo’s goal in their ministry is to strengthen couples by encouraging them to work on what the pair call the “six pillars of intimacy”. 

These pillars are: 

• Emotional

• Physical

• Financial

• Spiritual

• Recreational

• Sexual

The DiLorenzo’s believe that if there is a “crack” (or problem) in any one of those pillars, it can lead to a destabilization of the relationship. It is up to the couple to spend time and energy on each of these goals to help them create an “extraordinary” marriage. 

As my husband and I have attended marriage counseling which led to personal counseling for both of us, I’ve come to realize that it’s just as important that we as individuals nurture these six pillars in our own life. If I am not taking the time to work on managing my emotions and addressing issues I may have related to past trauma, or even current anxiety, in my own life, how can I expect my husband to pick up that load? If he is not working on reading his bible and praying daily on his own, how can he expect me to make up for what he has neglected? If we are not maintaining the bases of each of these pillars individually, we cannot come to the table ready to work as a couple. Or to ask for the necessary help as an individual from the individual we married. 

I think there is also a lot of benefit to recognizing that each of these pillars can be found in the list of the Proverbs 31 woman, and that there is never a better time to work on each of these than the present. Single women can begin to mold their financial base, all the while working on the other pillars. 

The blog posts I plan to write and the podcast guests I want to explore will all help me shape the meaning and importance of supporting each of these pillars. 

Now what do each of these pillars mean? 

• Emotional: How can we become emotionally healthy women? That is, women who can recognize their emotions as a thermometer but are not subject to act on them. This may mean we need to take care of mental health issues we struggle with or unpack trauma we may be holding onto because of past experiences. It is imperative that we have emotional self control, because it can be easy to be a slave to feelings that are ever changing.(Proverbs 31:12, 25)

• Physical: How can we physically care for our own bodies? This means more than just exercising, but really diving into eating right. Advocating for ourselves when Western medicine would often like to either medicate or overlook issues we have been struggling with for decades. This could mean getting a handle on diseases or illnesses we have that we would rather let go and ignore until they worsen to the point of ruining our quality of life. (Proverbs 31:17)

• Financial: How can we be responsible stewards with the monetary blessings God has given us? This includes learning how to live within a budget. This also means learning how to invest our money to help it grow. (Proverbs 31:16, 18, 24)

• Spiritual: How can we be mirrors of Christ? Spiritual disciplines are important in the Christian life, yet many of us can barely say that prayer and bible study are a habit. How can we root into Christ to flourish in Him? (Proverbs 31:30)

• Recreational: What are we doing with our time that brings us joy and utilizes our talents? This could mean something as simple as getting into a habit of reading a good book, or building into your schedule time to take hikes. Recreational hobbies allow us to explore and expand who we are as a person – and they don’t need to be monetized! (Proverbs 31:22)

• Sexual: How can we pursue sexually integreity no matter where we are in life? This applies to both single and married women. As a single woman, it includes far more than just maintaining your virginity until your wedding day. And as a married woman, it doesn’t just mean that you’re having sex with your husband whenever he (or you) want it. Pornography – whether images or those romantic smutty novels women love to devour – is rampant in our culture and both lead to unrealistic expectations of the beauty of what sex is. And what it was created to be. (Proverbs 31:10)

Each of these pillars is something a woman can take control and responsibility of in her own life. She does not need to wait upon a husband to take care of them for her (because spoiler: your husband will be human and he will be as imperfect and as in need of tending to these pillars in himself as you are). It is something that a married woman can cultivate to bring greater joys to her husband and her children, because it is something she can focus on that brings true self care. 

Now, each of these pillars may need support from trusted friends, mentors, or your spouse. You may need your spouse to be an accountability partner if you are a spender and you need someone to help control your cash flow. You may need a friend as a single lady who will push you out of your comfort zone to try new hobbies to figure out what you like to do. We all need spiritual accountability and mentors as women in the church, to grow and learn from others that are walking before us and to have someone lovingly speak the truth when we are in the wrong. 

I hope to help provide some tips, ideas, and plans that women can utilize in their life to help address where she needs help in any one of these bases. I know I am going to learn ways to help myself tend to these important focal points in my life to become a better wife and woman. 

If you are looking for guidance on any one of these topics, please take a look at tags at the side of the page. I will be tagging relevant blog posts or guest interviews with the corresponding pillar base (or bases) covered. 

I ask that you prayerfully consider the list above and ask God to reveal what area He would like you to focus on addressing. This is the best form of self care you can give yourself, because it is not focused on your happiness, but rather your holiness. 

I look forward to growing into a strong tower. I hope you will join me on the journey. 

Let me know in the comments or send me an email at lydia@notyet31.com any pillars you know you need to repair and build. I’d be happy to come alongside and provide any guidance or help that I can! 

The premiere episode features Kristina Hill of Herd of Hills and For You and Yarn. Kristina talks with me about how her understanding of the coveted biblical woman has changed throughout her life while establishing her career, getting married, raising 4 kids, starting a small business, and now starting to see them go off to college. She provides sage perspective on the importance of keeping Christ at the center of it all. 

You can follow Kristina on:

-Instagram: Herd of Hills

- Etsy: For You and Yarn

For more information about my ministry, Not Yet 31, you can find most of my content on my website at: Not Yet 31;

You can also follow me on Instagram at _notyet31

Any questions, comments or guest suggestions can be sent to lydia@notyet31.com

Please leave a favorite and a comment if you enjoyed this episode. 

Science fiction is my favorite genre. Especially when it’s less technology and more culture/chaos. Dystopia, we lovingly call it. Maybe throw in a little bit of fantasy (though, I am not one drawn to stories with dragons – that’s a little too far). 

 I love to delve into the human condition in these types of stories, the reader is exploring the “what ifs” of humanity, which demands us to look at the human psyche. What do humans do when they have nothing left to lose? 

So why am I dedicating a blog post on a platform aimed toward helping women grow in their Christlikeness to a pop culture science fiction show? I am sure some of you are already picketing my page now because of the content issues within the show. 

I get it, if the show is not for you, this is not an advertisement to watch it. I know of some shows that are probably well written that I would not want to watch because of the way they affect my mind or heart. Again: please do not take this as a prescription to go and watch the show. 

Regardless of whether you watch the show or not, I do believe that in most anything we consume, there are usually elements of truth. Whether it is because we recognize bad behavior has consequences or we cheer when moments where good character are highlighted or explored. Sometimes, even biblical concepts are flirted with in a secular way.

 I made one of those connections last week, when digesting how far my husband and I were in the show*, between reality explored in Stranger Things and the one that needs to be recognized in our own spiritual lives.  

It all started when I was lying in my bed (maybe listening to The Hounds of Love for the third time that day) thinking about the themes and motifs repeated throughout the seasons. I thought back to a meme I stumbled across earlier that week that maybe the crew should stop playing “Dungeons & Dragons” because that seems to be opening up the portals to the Upside Down**. My husband and I had a conversation about this, in which I pointed out that the game itself was not opening the portals to let in the enemy. It was just something the characters used to try to understand what was happening around them. 

Labeling their enemy as “Demodogs”, “Demogorgons”, and “Vecna” was not claiming the actual existence of the creatures in reality. Instead, it was creating relationships by naming what was happening in the world around these game players  after their “in game” counterparts. Because how do we describe, in this very physics/chemistry/sciency rule bound world of ours, beings that do not behave in ways we know they should. 

We have to be aware of doing the same thing when we approach the bible. I know this may seem a little unorthodox – and those who showed up with pitchforks at my blog door are probably screaming heresy– but hear me out. 

The past few weeks of my current bible study have been in the book of Ezekiel. If you’ve never read this book (I’m not even going to say “study”, much less “understand”), there are a heck of a lot of really weird images going on. 

Ezekiel is a prophet who is celebrating his 30th birthday at the beginning of the narrative (he there, man, welcome to the Not Yet 30 club!). Israel has been ransacked and enslaved by the Babylonians at this time. Ezekiel is one of the Jews who was taken away to Babylon, out of his homeland and away from the life he had dreamed of living.  Ezekiel is pretty sad this day because it should have been a day of celebration: he was from a long line of priests and  on his 30th birthday he would have been  promoted to serving in that capacity on his thirtieth. Instead, he is sitting beside the river in poverty while Israel as a nation is in shambles around him because of their disobedience. 

As Ezekiel is sitting there, he sees a vision. 

I looked and saw a windy storm approaching from the north and a huge cloud with flashing fire, glowing brightly all around with the color of gleaming amber from within the fire. Inside, there appeared to be four living creatures that looked like human beings; but each one had four faces and four wings. Their legs were straight, with feet like calves’ hoofs. They glittered like burnished bronze. Beneath their wings they had human hands on their four sides. The four of them had faces and wings as follows:  they touched one another with their wings; they did not turn when they moved, but each one moved straight forward; as for the appearance of their faces, they had human faces [in front], each of the four had a lion’s face on the right, each of the four had a bull’s face on the left, and each of the four had an eagle’s face [toward the rear] — thus their faces. As for their wings, each had two that stretched upward and joined those of others, and two more that covered their bodies. Each [living creature] moved in the direction of any of its faces; in whichever direction the spirit wanted to go, they went, without turning as they moved — thus the appearance of the living creatures.

Ezekiel 1:4-13 

It goes on to describe these creatures as speeding here and there like flashes as lightning, with fire spurting intermittently between them. Also there are wheels involved. 

Let’s all take a moment to accept that we have no idea what the heck is going on in this image. It makes little to no sense. I am sure there are really smart theologians out there that could draw a very nice picture of this and try to wrap it all up in a nice neat bow. 

I do not think that is the point of this passage. I also do not think we should be ashamed to admit when we really don’t know what Scripture is trying to say to us. Like the Upside Down, the Spiritual World is not bound by all of our human understanding. It’s what has led us into debates about pre-destination and the power of prayer. You are asking time-bound limited creatures to understand a limitless God. 

You are also asking these creatures, with a very finite and clearly defined universe, to understand an entire world that is beyond our understanding or even our dimension. When the people of the Old and New Testament encounter angels in their true form, they are reliant on the words we have to try to explain exactly what they are saying. Those of us who have felt powerful emotions (or watched the scene where Max escaped Vecna with Kate Bush’s “Running Up that Hill [A Deal With God]” triumphantly cheering in the background) know that words can often fail us. 

Going back to the Stranger Things connection, this is why a powerful life-sucking creature from a mirror world gains the name “Vecna”. 

And why angels have multi-faces with a bizarre menagerie of animals. 

This is why we have to be careful when we approach the bible to not take every single thing we read as a literal image of what is happening. If you try, Ezekiel and Revelation are going to become real problems for you. And when it comes to some of the concepts of Scripture of God being outside of time, it can seem even more confusing.

I believe it is perfectly okay in our faith-walk to admit when something does not make sense, but to accept that it is the way that God made it. Think back to when you were a child: there were concepts or relationships or areas that you did not fully understand then that you do now because you have a more informed perspective on the issue. God is our Heavenly Father who dwells fully in the spiritual and physical realms– and so there are times where we, as physical people, have to accept what He tells us without fully comprehending. Because we cannot. We are not mature enough in our being to have the full perspective. That will come when we have been risen from our carnal bodies to join Him in our newly resurrected spiritual ones. 

Paul writes about this conundrum following the famous “Love does” verses: 

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

1 Corinthians 13:12 

In the previous verse, Paul talks about how children reason like children because that is where they are in their development. As they grow, they (should) communicate in maturing and age-appropriate ways as they become adults. 

Likewise, we as sinful earthbound creatures understand as the limited humans we are. To see the Spiritual Realm and to understand it is something that is beyond our comprehension. We should not fault ourselves for being confounded by it. We are not yet made perfect (complete) in our spiritual bodies. Some of God’s people, through gifting and spiritual training, may come closer to understanding, but they won’t fully comprehend the whole picture. And they will not have the words to communicate what they are seeing to those of us whose perspectives are not as mature.

Do not be dismayed if what you read from time to time does not make sense. Do not be discouraged in your pursuit of God’s Word and give up, accepting that you are never going to understand. You won’t, this side of Heaven. You will continue to read Revelation with only the foggiest idea of what is going to actually happen because the only words we have to understand involve horses and swords coming out of Jesus’ mouth. And really, none of that makes a whole lot of sense either. 

Instead, accept where you happen to be on this journey of exploring God’s Word. Pray that He can help you figure out how to apply these heady concepts to your time bound life. Have faith that you will someday understand when you have been perfected in God’s Forever Kingdom. 

And grow some healthy respect for the Holy Spirit and the Spiritual realm. I believe that part of the reason many churches in America forsake the importance of engaging the Spirit in our daily lives is because we cannot wrap our heads around the spiritual realm, so we just ignore it. That should be the last thing we do. 

A bunch of teenagers in a fictional show had enough healthy fear of the beings they were against to give them names after  frightening and powerful counterparts in their adventure game. Let us take seriously the power that Satan does have, the forces of darkness against us, and the reality that demons are real and have every interest in damning the lost and leading astray to bind the people of God. 

And like our Stranger Things counterparts, let us not stop us from engaging in warfare. We may not be strong in our fleshly bodies, but we have a Heavenly Force behind that is much stronger. Jesus’s name is far more powerful than we ever give Him credit for in the Western world. Learn how He has instructed us to bind and overcome the powers of darkness by studying the Scriptures. 

Before you know it, the fact that you don’t understand the demogorgons or Vecna does not stop you from courageously stepping forward to save your family, friends, and town from forces that wish to see it destroyed. You know that in His Name, Spirit, and Kingdom you will be victorious. 

To quote that old song: 

“I’ve read the back of the book, and we win.”

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*When I wrote this post, we had only watched up to episode 6 of season 4–my husband does not believe that binging a television show is good or healthy. Please pray for our marriage because I watched the first two seasons in two days each in pre-his presence and I may lose my mind.

**If you have not watched the show, here’s a small synopsis: The setting is a small town in 1980s Indiana called Hawkins. One of the characters was experimented on as a child and has the power to get to another dimension they end up calling “The Upside Down”. It is a mirror to our world, only darker and more dangerous. In this Upside Down, creatures can get out into our world through opened portals to wreak havoc on this small sleepy town. The superhuman character encounters a group of nerds who bond over the new adventure game – Dungeons & Dragons. The crew, several of their family members and friends, set off to try to defeat the big baddies each season.