People learn when they are ready to learn, not when you're ready to teach. Can our patience handle that? For ourselves? 

Indulge me in a moment of reflection how we got here?

I've been noticing a pattern in myself: I justify everything. My career, my faith, my grief, my ambition. I caught myself telling my four-year-old "I have to go to work" and stopped cold because that's not the message I want to send her.

Also my book comes out tomorrow. No big deal. (Big deal.)

We talk about Mary at Christmas. We debate whether she knew. But nobody's asking that question at Easter. And I think we should. Because she did know, and knowing didn't spare her from a single second of it. This episode is about Mary's sacrifice in the part of the story we skip over, what women carry, and why I think that scripture about her keeping these things in her heart might be the most relatable thing in the whole Bible.

For a while, not believing felt safer than believing. Because the God I'd been shown brought shame and fear, not hope. And if that's the God you've been handed too, I get it. I really do. This episode is about what it took to separate the God other people gave me from the one I actually found, and why I think your own firsthand experience with the Divine is the only one worth trusting.

Sunday's church lesson wrecked me in the best way. A photographer in my neighborhood said: stop chasing the perfect photo and chase the light instead. We're talking about what that means for faith, for life, for the exhausting gap between what we wanted and what actually is, and why joy is still the most rebellious thing we can choose.

Detaching myself from the results of what I create is what enables me to keep going, but last week I learned that maybe I have overcorrected? Let's talk about the dance of staying grounded without dismissing the light. 

This is a LIVE recording of the It's More Fun to Believe Book launch event interview! We don't hold back and we didn't edit so buckle up and enjoy! And get your book here! 

After a trip to the Brontë sisters’ village in England, I started thinking about how rare it is to feel truly understood. What if part of faith is trusting that God already knows us completely. Our strange parts, our creative parts, even the parts we try to hide. Today we are exploring what changes when you let yourself believe that.

What if the answer to your prayer isn’t rescue… but strength? Today I’m wrestling with wanting, waiting, and why God so rarely gives me the miracle in the package I asked for. Maybe deliverance isn’t being saved from it. Maybe it’s being able to endure it. Love you. Bye.