There are some books that I circle back to time and again. There are others that I find myself wishing I had the book budget to hand out like candy at Halloween. These are a few of them. They’re theological, practical and joyful. For a book-by-book explanation of each (and which I would most highly
Home workouts are the worst. I’ve been *trying* to exercise in this space for months now, and each day it’s a battle. Home is where I’m least motivated because it’s the most familiar. But I’m learning that workouts aren’t the only thing that feel this way. God has called us to the work of sanctification
Every time I pull bread out of the hot oven, I’m aware of my own brokenness. And that it is a gift. Bread has a requirement of brokenness to it. The grain must be broken, split open, cracked wide for the wheat to spill out into flour. The olive must be pressed, pinned down, thoroughly
The ceiling is dark and beyond my vision as I lay awake in bed. Yet I stare at it, trying to make out its distance and depth while my mind turns over the week’s happenings and to-do lists. Is it 2am? 4am? 10pm? I don’t know. All I am aware of is that at some
I’ve been baking a lot of bread lately. This is due, in part, to the fact that colder weather always draws me to any homemade carb; the other part is due to the fact that our kitchen has finally been fully unpacked and it’s like Christmas morning every time we rediscover a baking tool we
I straighten the stocking on it’s fireplace hook and take a step back to evaluate my work. Something about the way the loop is sewn to the stocking itself makes it resistant to my every attempt to help it hand plumb, and I concede that it is good enough. Decorating for Christmas is a bit
Last Sunday was the first Sunday evening meeting for Trinity Church Greenville, the church plant Austin and I are grateful to serve. I had great visions of how our first meeting would go, how prepared I would be, how ordered all the details would look. Particularly, I was excited to be baking a loaf of
I love good food. I love small plates of fine foods and big bowls of pasta. I love the unctuousness of quality EVOO, the richness of salted butter on homemade bread, the cold familiarity of ripe watermelon, and the bite of lime squeezed over a taco. I love food. But … though this doesn’t happen
Here is something that I want myself to know (and, you too if you need the reminder): our worth is more than our work. Our world tells us again and again to do more so that we can BE more. We should work harder and faster and produce more good things (necessary or not) so