The women of the IF:Gathering have left me with words that are game changers; too much to process in one sitting or one day.  This is part three of a week long look back at the ways that I don’t want to stay the same. 
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I’m just not even afraid to say how much of a girl crush I have on Jen Hatmaker.  It’s a real thing.  And I could tell you all a hundred reasons why but I think they are all underlined by the fact that this women has the fire of a prophet and the humor of comic, and taken together I think she is a teacher who cares about the right things and tells us in the best ways.  During her lesson at IF, I could not write fast enough.  In fact, we paused her talk no less than four times because her words kept landing in the places of our hearts where we needed them.

I have dozens of her sentences scribbled in my journal, but the one I’m processing today is this, that “faith IS the prize.”  It seems almost too simple at first read.  But the more I sit with it, the heavier it feels. 

Everyone has faith in something.  Everyone.  We have faith in God.  Maybe you have faith in science.  Maybe karma.  Or you might even argue to death that no, you do not have faith in anything because all of this spiritual talk is nonsense.  But I would tell you then that your faith is in your own logic, because it is.  We are living beings and by default we are always trying to make sense of things.  We would not be able to sleep at night if we were not at least a little bit satisfied with the conclusions we have drawn about life and the world.  Whether we are conscious of it or not, we live every single day guided by faith in something. (And the philosophical nature of this paragraph is already getting way beyond my scope of comfort so let’s move on…)

I cannot stop thinking about this: if faith is the goal, and not simply the means, how does that change my life—my day-to-day, changing diapers, making dinner, loving my husband, teaching, serving, play-dating life?  I think I will spend many, many years—maybe a lifetime—living in to the answer to that question.  But what I think it means for me today is that I have to practice this faith before it just shows up and works it magic.  I have to do things that feel scary.  I have to take risks.  I have to know God’s word and live out the commands that are inside of it.  I have to allow myself to try things that truly require this thing called faith.  And I don’t know, but I think the faith will come a little bit at a time, until I’m not really faking it so much, I’m just believing it.

That’s the kind of life I want—not one that is easy and always comfortable but one that has complete confidence in Jesus.  And I know if I only pursue ease and comfort, the life of faith that wants to live in me will keep bumping up against the walls of safety I keep around it.  Faith, assurance, confidence, these are the prize.  Life without them is impossible to bear.  Life with them, well, that kind of life can do anything.     

The women of the IF:Gathering have left me with words that are game changers; too much to process in one sitting or one day.  This is part two of a week long look back at the ways that I don’t want to stay the same. 
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I care a lot about what others think.  And that is not always a bad thing: I think it is good and healthy to want to be respected and thought well of, because it is hard to do life alongside people whom, for whatever reason, we may have a strong distaste for.  But that is not really what I’m talking about.  I really care what other people think, like, to the point that my day could be a pretty good one or a pretty bad one depending on how I perceive my standing in your mind. 

I came out of the womb being a people pleaser.  And then God blessed me with an upper middle class upbringing and an athletic talent that got me more recognition than most as a teenager.  Not that I never made mistakes, but my childhood was really fairly storybook.  The result is that I grew far too accustomed to people high-fiving me along the way.

Adulthood may have changed the context from which I seek approval but it hasn’t changed my craving of it, and I do so many things on a regular basis because I think people will like me if I do.  I watch my sweet little daughter be, well, not so sweet at times and I worry more about what others are thinking of my parenting than I am about actually parenting her.  I write something here on this space and measure its success by likes and comments rather than by the authenticity that I wrote it with.

But here is something I know to be true, and I am learning this more and more every day: God doesn’t care about the same things people care about.      

During Jennie Allen’s opening talk at IF, a talk that was raw and so true to her journey leading this gathering, she said this: “I have tasted God in such a way that now all of you people feel small to me.”  And I’m sure what she said in the few minutes after that was beautiful but I actually don’t remember it, because those words were taking up all the space in mind as I quickly wrote them in my journal.  All of you feel small to me. I want that so badly.  Not a lesser view of people, places, community and life right here where I am, but a much, much greater view of God.  I actually tremble with an anxious excitement at the thought of what my life would look and feel like if His guidance was the first and last place I went, if His will was actually the truest pursuit of my life.  What could change if I was really willing to be totally misunderstood by people if it meant that I was exactly where God wanted me to be, doing what He wanted me to do?

People around me have told me that I’m brave. But I’m not.  I want to be, but the truth is I have chosen a very safe journey, one that has not cost me too much yet.  I do have a heart that breaks at the knowledge or sight of injustice, but y’all, that does not feel very brave.  It actually feels safe, because who could possibly criticize me for wanting to stop an injustice?  It is a path of altruism that I’ve been walking, not at all hating the high fives along the way because believe it or not, I can turn even a seemingly selfless pursuit in to one that makes me look ok in your eyes. 

God can, no, will accomplish his work in anyone, perfectly pure hearts or not.  But I think we can be doing all the right things and still feel empty if we are doing them for the wrong reasons.  This has been so much of my story.  Yesterday I thought a lot about repentance, and today I’m thinking about really knowing, even tasting God, in such a way that everything else feels so, so small.  He is the good soil I have to be growing in.  Otherwise I’m just a temporarily pretty flower in a jar of water.  It looks nice on the table today, but very soon that water won’t be enough.  We do need each other to keep us going, to refuel our visions and to support us and love us and tell us what our hearts need to hear (trust me, I believe this!).  But not instead of what Jesus wants us to hear.  It’s an equation I have often gotten backwards, but one I am working on correcting.  Jesus > approval.  He is bigger.      

This weekend I had the privilege of joining thousands of women around the world to watch the IF:Gathering.  My sweet friends Emily, Meghan and I cozied up with warm blankets and coffee and journals, listened to wise teachers and then let their lessons guide us in to discussions about everything from fear and anxiety to motherhood and marriage.   

The women of IF have left me with words that are game changers; far too much to process in one sitting or one day.  This is part one of a week long look back at the words and the sentences and the ways that I don’t want to stay the same.  ___________________________________

When we take the very honest pieces of our hearts out from behind their protective coverings, something incredibly humbling happens.  We look at them in detail, we hold them in our hands and test their authenticity, and we sift them in our minds with good questions and honest answers.  Then we start to really see them, the things that truly make up who we are.  It’s a good process, and a hard one.  Because in the very honest, very real moments I see a lot that I don’t love about these pieces.  Things like that fact that I am obsessed with your approval of me, that I criticize the ministry of the church for missing the mark, that I talk about others, and that I compare compare compare my children, my writing, my theology, my home, my life to yours, as if I am always looking for information to affirm that I am enough, or better. 

And then I hold these things out to Jesus, and the only words that come to me are I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  Because as much as I think and say that I want nothing more than to know Christ and him crucified, those are words more than they are actions.  I want that, yes; but the truth is I want that as long as I also get a comfortable life and a good reputation, too. 

I realized this weekend that I have no idea how big and beautiful God is.  I have thirty years of Sunday school and a fairly legalistic, I’m a pretty good girl don’t I deserve a good life kind of faith.  I have hundreds of books and quotes that have taught me how to talk about Jesus.  I have dozens of journals that have documented a very safe faith.  And I have more prayers for my own well-being and desires than I can count.  I realized that, quite frankly, I think about myself a lot.  And for the past few years this kind of faith has made me restless, stale, frustrated, and strangely judgmental—because if I couldn’t fix a discontent in myself I would simply point to something or someone tangible to blame it on, and that eased the discontent for approximately three minutes.     

It has just been too hard to own my junk. So I’ve have done far too much deflecting the junk to something else, then I’ve held up a list of ways that I’m such a good girl and called that faith in Jesus.    

“I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those that are evil… I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name’s sake, and you have not grown weary.  But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first…repent.”  Revelation 2:2-5

A few years ago I would have heard Rebekah Lyons’ words that “the repentance starts in me” and I would have thought she was talking mostly about other people.  Now, I hear those words and I write about them here and I am ashamed.  Because they are without question for me.  There are so many dreams I have, so many ways I want to take the message of faith and run bravely with it.  But first, I need forgiveness.  Today is a day for sitting a little bit longer with my desperate need for repentance, for staring at the ways I have forgotten how much I need Jesus, for admitting that there are many things I have wanted more than him, my first love.  I will have no endurance to run this race if I don’t admit that I have no ability to run it on my own.  Before I can move forward and step in to any work that I believe is mine to do in the world, I am asking God for forgiveness, and for the constant reminder that there is no weakness in humility—in fact, humility is exactly where to begin. 

It gets a little heavy around here sometimes: human trafficking and being brave and asking hard questions and all the things that I wrestle with—which is a lot.  I’m dancing constantly with the tensions of faith and culture and stewardship and just loving Jesus well right where I am.  And this year, just one month in to it, has been full of tough realities but it has also been really, really sweet.  Lest I pain this picture with my words that I’m all about let’s fix problems! all the live long day, I thought it time to write simple.  That is my word for the year, after all.  So let’s talk about the simple lovely things a little bit.

Parenthood.  This just cannot be over.  It cannot.  This show is my made it to Friday naptime reward.  I’m honestly not quite sure what I will do with Fridays now.  I will, however, be able to sleep knowing they are living happily ever after because that was THE best finale show.  Ever.

Target candles.  Obsessed.  Buy one every time I am there.  Sugar Spun Cotton has been my staple but Vintage Lace?  I die.

The bravely necklace and new brave cards.  Because this month is human trafficking awareness month, we are still giving all proceeds from any purchase at the Giving Shop to Wellspring Living.  And I just love that you are buying necklaces and cards for one another and we are giving away enough to make a difference for those girls that Wellspring is helping.  It’s the best.

Coffeemate Chocolate Chip Cookie creamer. OMGosh.  Tell me you have tried this.  There are 32 servings in one container but mine are lasting 6-7 days, because it actually tastes exactly like a cookie.  With all of it’s partially hydrogenated and mono cellulose poly-whatever goodness.  (I did buy organic apples the other day.  We win some, we lose some.)

The Mark of the Lion series.  Well, I am 20 years late to the party on this one, but a few friends encouraged me to read them and because I was needing a little fiction in my life, so I did. Just finished all three and the verdict: so, so good.

That's all for this month.  Here's to hoping your new years resolutions are still in tact and that the groundhog tells us winter is just a few weeks longer!

Grammar gets such a bad rap, sending people back to their middle school classrooms with images of strict English teachers and red marks all over returned papers.  I will never need to know this! and when will I ever use the term subordinate clause again in my life? have rung through countless young minds as sincere teachers do their best to make them believe you will, I promise, you will need this!

I don’t know why exactly, but I believed my teachers.  And although most of my writing today makes its own rules up as I go, I return to my love for good old fashion proper grammar often.  And today, I want to tell you a little bit about the adverb.

Adverbs do just what their name implies: they add to the verb (do I need to remind you that a verb is an action word?)  Adverbs usually answer the questions such as how? or  in what way?  If you walked (verb) to lunch, how did you do so?  I walked quickly (adverb) to lunch.  You get it, yes?

I owe a great deal of inspiration to the function of the adverb, as it has inspired the latest (and my favorite!) addition to the Giving Shop: the bravely necklace.  My sweet friends and mentors at As You Wish design helped me come up with this piece, and I don’t think I could love it more because yes, it is beautiful, but more than that, it reminds me how and in what way I want to do the things God has put on my heart: be a loyal wife, a committed mama, a helpful advocate for women in the sex industry, and a consistent friend… and I want to do all those things bravely. 

What about you?

Are you fighting for your marriage…

Thinking about adoption…

Raising difficult children…

Facing infertility…

Fighting injustice…

Loving the people in your neighborhood…

Moving out into the mission field of the world…

Working toward a big dream…

Do those things bravely.  Because our families, our cities, the world needs our bravery, friends.  Spend two minutes looking at the headlines and you know it; spend two minutes in God’s word and you are inspired for it!  And “we are not of those who shrink back” (Hebrews 10:39a), so let’s not live that way.

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These sweet reminders to live, go, do bravely make the perfect gifts of encouragement to our people.  {Hey, no shame in buying one for yourself, either!}  Each necklace comes with a brand new design brave card and the short story behind the adverb bravely.  And as always, every penny of profit is given away to charity—for the next three weeks (through February 8th) , that charity is Wellspring Living.     

*If you purchase a bravely necklace this week (January 19-23), use the code BRAVELY to take 10% off your order.  The initial love and support of this piece mean more than I could ever tell you.

Live bravely, y’all. 

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Want to help spread the bravely movement?  Purchasing a necklace or the brave cards is one way, but simply sharing them on social media is another—and it is no small thing.  Use #bravely to share this post, a link to the Giving Shop, or photos of your necklaces and cards.  Remember, brave begets brave—if you be brave, I will be brave, too. 

A little fact about me: I would be a professional student if I could.  I would go to class, write paper, and do research in the library every day if it were possible, because very few things are as exciting to me as learning.  It could be something new, something fresh, or a reminder from years before, but I feel it in my soul when I am learning, and it's a good feeling.

Back in November I turned the tv (mostly) off for the whole month.  And I really haven't turned it back on much yet.  Of course I've watched Parenthood (did I even need to clarify that?), but mostly during the day, the house is quiet save for the Dora and Daniel Tiger episodes I use to bribe my daughter.  It's still glorious, and it sill makes me feel a little less distracted by things that I don't need in my head.

But, I am equal parts extrovert and introvert and I do need a little noise, a little discussion fueling my days.  So when I'm working out, folding laundry, or getting breakfast ready for the kids, I've been turning on some pretty great podcasts, and feeling like I'm learning something every time.  Here are my favorites, words and people and challenges that I'm growing from:

Buckhead Church: some good friends of ours moves to Atlanta last Spring and have been sharing some of their favorite church sermons.  Not one has disappointed.  Subscribe to the podcast and listen to the "Be Rich" sermon, stat.   

Willow Creek: I love Bill Hybels.  I love that he gets choked up over something in almost every sermon I have ever heard him give.  I love the fabulous guest speaks that Willow brings in to inspire, I love their stand for justice.  These are all incredible.

The Village Church: Because Matt Chandler.

Coffee with Chris: Because Christine Caine.

The Art of Simple: Love Tsh and the stories she brings on to her podcast.  These are easy listening for me, and I always take something sweet away.

I also loved Serial, catch up on This American Life when I can, and have been listening some to the Bethel Church podcast as well.  There is just no shortage of good words to fill our lives with; technology is making it almost too easy to keep learning, keep hearing stories other than our own.  What are your favorites?

Whatever you are fighting for, it is worth it.

This piece is in honor of Human Trafficking Awareness month

This is the post I have always wanted to write. 

Not because I think it will get a million likes or comments, not because I have pretty pictures to go with it, and not because it’s a topic that flows easily from my heart and mind to my fingers on the keyboard.  A few years ago when I first heard the question, “What breaks your heart?” I didn’t know how to answer it, until I heard this gal named Christine Caine speaking at a leadership conference.  She was just starting an organization called A21, dedicated to fighting this big, big thing called sex trafficking.  Sure, I knew what a brothel was, what prostitutes were, and what words like rape and slavery meant.  I must have heard at some point in my life that women were actually kidnapped and sold as physical goods, but I didn’t really know what a big, big thing it was. Four and a half years, lots of books and documentaries and stories later, I know the answer to the question, because this thing, sex trafficking, it is the thing that absolutely breaks my heart.

Statistics never paint the whole picture, but because they do give a context for the stories of the individual women and men being used every hour of the day as sexual slaves, they are important here:

International consensus estimates that 27 million people are enslaved in some sort of forced labor globally.  The international Labor Organization conservatively estimates that approximately 20 million of these women and men are trapped in forced sexual exploitation globally. (Polaris Project)

The average age of a trafficking victim is 12-13 years old.  A seventh-grader. (A21)

1-2% of victims are ever rescued.  And around the world, it is estimated that 80-90% of rescued victims eventually are lured back to their trafficker.

In the United States, the average pimp can make $150,000-$200,000 a year per prostitute.  And the average pimp has 4-6 girls working for him.  (There are female pimps, but the role is overwhelmingly played by men). (The Covering House)

And this quote, a fact that I think needs to be shouted from the rooftops in this fight against sexual exploitation:  “Legalization and regulation have been promoted as the answer to abuse, health problems and violence in the sex industry.  It has been argued that legalization and decriminalization of the entire industry will decrease the illegal sector and help stem the tide of sex trafficking.  There is evidence that contradicts this claim.  The consequences of legalization in Australia, and a similar legally-sanctioned explosion of the sex industry in the Netherlands, has increased trafficking into both countries.  Eighty percent of women in prostitution in the Netherlands have been trafficked into the country.” (source)

Legalizing prostitution makes the problem of trafficking and exploitation overwhelmingly worse.  All of the data supports this.  I think this knowledge is so, so important, especially for those of us with a misunderstanding of the issue.  So many of us see prostitutes every single day outside our offices or on our way through the cities we live in.  And we think they are choosing it.  I have actually heard this phrase in my presence: “Make that money girl.”  I cannot even write that without a pit in my stomach.  Because close to 100% of women working the streets for sex are not working for themselves, they are not making any money.  They are meeting a daily quota of $500-$1000 with fear of a beating, at best, if they don’t hand that cash to a pimp by morning.  This is true around the world in Thailand and India and Germany and it is true in San Francisco and Houston and Atlanta and even my hometown of Spokane. 

So what can we do?  Oh this question.  It hovers on my mind every day.  I am a wife and a mom.  I have a two year old and an eight month old.  My day is Dora and Daniel Tiger, sippy cups and diapers, timeouts and tantrums and please eat your potatoes requests.  Even this morning I woke up at 4:00am with a burning desire to write this piece, and would you believe that Harper woke up at 4:30am, telling me stories about taking her baby doll to the doctor for a shot.  True story.  She never wakes up at 4:30am.  Just to get through writing this I had to stop for juice and yogurt and four tickle fights.  How on earth do I do this, be an abolitionist and a mama? 

Well I’m going to start by talking about it.  I’m going to tell you that the sex industry is making billions of dollars and it is ruining lives, marriages and families.  It is stealing the innocence of precious souls every day. 

I’m going to tell you that innocently buying porn is part of the problem: the sex industry and sexual exploitation run on supply and demand.  As long as there is a demand, there will be a supply. 

I’m going to beg you to read more about human trafficking, to talk to your daughters about it, and to absolutely talk to your sons about it because their sweet young minds are bombarded from the youngest age with images that entice them to be the buyers in this dark world.   

I’m going to keep inviting you to purse parties and asking if you want to buy from the Giving Shop because our money does make a difference in this fight, a huge difference.

I’m going to keep putting brave organizations like A21, Wellspring Living, IJM, Exodus Cry and hundreds of others in front of you. 

I’m going to ask you to pray as you drive by strip clubs and massage parlors, asking God to be so near the souls inside of them.  And I’m also going to ask you to never give them your business, please, it is not innocent fun.  It is costing those women inside a lot. 

And in a few years I’m going back to school so I can speak in an even more educated manner about human trafficking and sexual exploitation. Someday soon I may even lobby for political reforms that do a better job of protecting young lives from this grave injustice.

I'm going to believe that if enough of us know about this, understand the causes, the complexities, the supply and demand, and if we all say "No, no more" we can end this.

And I'm going to be brave. 

What can we do with the things that break our hearts?  These are my answers for now.  I am going to honor this sweet season of motherhood that I am in right now, where my babies need me for everything and can't even put their own shoes on yet, because I love it, and I am confident of the work God is doing and what it will look like for me to fight this in 5, 10, 20, 30, 50 years- you better believe I am going home to heaven as an abolitionist.  About a year ago I told this to a few of my close friends, and I really believe it is the truth— at the end of my life I think I know the five questions God is going to ask of me:

Were you a faithful, bold follower of Christ? 

Did you love your husband and value your marriage above any relationship on earth? 

Did your children get your very best, your sincerest effort to point them to the only place they will find the answers to life’s questions: Jesus. 

Did you love God’s word and live in manner that reflected that in your friendships and community? 

And, Katie, did you speak up for these girls? 

Actually answering the question of what breaks my heart has changed everything, just everything.  And this is the best I can answer it right now.  Have you asked yourself this question yet?  Don’t wait, really ask it.  The answer will direct the purpose of your life in the most profound ways you can imagine. 

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It is 6:50am now, and I just rocked Harper back to sleep for what I hope is a good power nap before the day begins again.  As we rocked, we sang one of our favorite songs:

This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine
Let it shine
Let it shine
Let is shine

And I don't know, it just seemed fitting.
 

*There is some discrepancy regarding the data on human trafficking.  I have done my best here to represent reliable sources. 

I used to underestimate the influence of space.  Homes were always, to me, merely practical places to eat, sleep, and store our belongings, not places to invest too much money in because we can't take any part of them with us to eternity.  And then the best thing possible happened: I started to recognize the feeling of hospitality in other people's homes.  I realized that when Amanda had the coffee warm and the big cups out on the counter she was saying, "grab a cup and make yourself at home."  I noticed that when Meghan took the kids toys out of their corner and spread them around the living room she was saying, "We have fun here, so stay a bit!"  And when Emily took out the fleece blankets and threw one in your direction, she was saying "Let's talk awhile, get comfortable."  Size, set-up, decoration, all of the vanity mattered little compared to the intention, and I saw in so many of my friends that they did one thing so well: they made space for us.       

We bought our first home two years ago, a light blue house on 9th Avenue that came with 700 square feet of half-finished basement.  For two years we have been saving and dreaming of the potential this space had: more bedrooms! big storage area! an entertainment room!  But as our babies grew, we knew that this space had one destiny: a play room.  And that it became: a big open space with lots of toys, a reading nook (!!!), and a little secret room that the kids and their friends can dream and pretend and laugh their little hearts out in.  We forfeited every extra bit of storage space we had in lieu of nooks and crannies that we can use- perhaps a decision I will regret at some point.  But every single day since this space was finished, we have been down there.  Harper runs from wall to wall with her arms straight behind her, glee coming out of her eyes and mouth and body.  Cannon crawls from corner to corner and finds every outlet in sight (baby-proofed, it's all good.)  We have picnics and races, we play dress-up and have doctor check-ups, and we are loud.  

I cannot help but look at the freshly painted grey walls and perfect bargain carpet and think yes, space does matter.  Not size.  Not embellishment.  Not how much it cost or didn't cost.  But intention, the way we use our space, it matters.  Because our homes aren't just spaces of practicality and storage, they are spaces of love and laughter and prayer.  They can be spaces that welcome, that feed bodies and souls, that encourage, that host kingdom minded talk and further the work God has given us to do.  

I don't know if we will stay in our house forever.  I don't know if we will ever be able to afford a bigger home, or if we might feel God asking us to consolidate and downsize.  I wrestle all the time with the tension of financial stewardship: do we build more or do we give our abundance away?  How big is big enough?  How much is too much?  If we have an extra bedroom does that mean God wants us to adopt?  Good questions, all of them.  Very different answers for each of us.  But what I think about space now is this: God asks us to be intentional with it- to steward it, pray over it, use it well.  To welcome others in to it, not because it is perfect, but because it is ours, and that alone makes it a practice in generous sharing.  

I hope our basement sees dozens and dozens of kids playing and laughing and growing up together.  I hope there are lots of "sorries" and life lessons in those walls.  I hope our friends feel welcome, stay late for movies, talk through hard questions, laugh, cry, and that we all know more about Jesus when we are done.  Beyond any practicality that our home offers us, I hope above all that it always makes space for others.    

The beautiful expanse of the Pacific, it never gets old to me.  The way that the waves swish and crash, or how the bubbles of the water’s edge crawl up and back down the sand all day long, as if they are playing a game they never grow tired of.  I could dig my feet in and roll sand around between my toes, just sitting, watching, listening to the ocean for hours.  I love that I can stare at the horizon, or scan as far north and south up the coastline as my eyes will let me, but still never find the end.  I love that it is quiet but never silent, peaceful but never still...

Read the rest of this essay over at Coffee + Crumbs...

You have exalted above all things
Your name and Your word...
Psalm 138:2

A few months ago, my friend Emily sent me a quote she had heard listening to Ravi Zacharias: "In all my travels all over the world, I have never let the sun rise and set without opening God's word that day.  One day the sun will set on your life and the only thing that will go with you is God's word, and it will be like fire burning in your bones."  Fist pump.  Two of them, actually.

If there is anything I know to be true about growth, about bravery, it is that God's word is the anchor.  There is simply nothing, not.one.thing, we can do to feel the presence of the Holy Spirit more than reading the Bible, engaging intentionally with the scriptures.  God's words actually can make us more like him, and when we are growing to that end, we are better wives, better mamas, better friends.  We start to see the world through a new lens entirely, one that thinks less of our lives and a whole lot more of the other 7 billion on earth.  It changes our wants, our needs, our passions, and it lifts our eyes just enough to see past today and toward eternity.  And when we think a lot about eternity, it changes the way we think about today.

In my life, Bible time has come with a good routine and some gentle accountability.  Quiet time easily gets such a bad rap in Christian circles, and I understand why... I do have a two year old and an eight month old, quiet time is rarely quiet.  And there will always be days that, for any number of reasons, I don't get in the scriptures.  But I don't want to let those days outnumber the days I am with Jesus ever again.  What I have found in the face of the excuses I always made is that God's word is so worth fighting for. 

Imagine a whole generation of believers who are saturated with God's word, who understood it, who trust it.  I get goosebumps just thinking about the work of the Holy Spirit in that kind of atmosphere, and I want to be a part of it.  So let's grab a few girlfriends and hold each other to it- I think it's perfectly ok to see others growing and want what they have- that's been the story of my growth for a long time now. 

Below are some of the tools I'm using to study the Bible right now:

She Reads Truth journals and app
Blue Letter Bible
Alive+Active (I happen to know the author.  She's so legit.)
IF:Equip

And a few studies I cannot recommend highly enough- life changing:

The Book of Daniel study
Gospel Transformation
The Names of God

There are a million resources out there to help us walk through scripture, these handful are just the ones I'm connecting with the most these days.  Jennie Allen once wrote that, "If you know three verses from scripture you know more about God than most of the world.  We are so spoiled with truth and yet so unmoved."  Oh friends, let's be moved.  Let's be world changers.  Let's be women who do what it takes, who anchor ourselves in the one thing we get to take with us at the end of our lives. 

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