Many of us have lived in that space between knowing something and actually doing it. We want the knowledge in our minds to overflow into a zealous display from our hearts. What can we do to put our feet and hands into action?

The best way to discover how God has gifted you is by being a part of the local communities he has given us.

As believers, we may feel the pressure to only ever read Christian nonfiction. Yet God, in his grace, has provided more than just that: He’s provided fiction and poetry as well. Perhaps you feel weary and burnt out from all the Christian nonfiction you’ve been reading, and the joy of reading at all has dissipated. Based on my own journey, here’s how I renewed the joy of reading from all kinds of genres.

We know that we’re supposed to discern the words of the world we absorb and make sure they’re in line with Scripture. But what about the thoughts that rattle around in our own minds? Do we ever take stock of the ideas swirling around our minds and hold them up to God’s Word? Or have we become so used to hearing them that we’ve attributed them to ourselves—or even God himself?

While beating us up for how awful we believe we are, self-hate also whispers to us that if we tried just a smidge harder, we could find the strength to obey on our own. But we can’t.

It’s hard to think sensibly of ourselves. We often look at our gifts one of two ways: Either with too much pride and entitlement or with a degrading view and lack of self-esteem. How do we learn to look at our gifts in a way that benefits the church and keeps us humble?

A little story about why folding fitted sheets carries feelings of friendship, love, and patience for me.

Perhaps you’re standing at a crossroad too. You’re unsure how to move forward. As a believer, you want to make a decision that is pleasing to God and will glorify him. You’ve tried searching for feelings of peace and listening for God’s voice, but you’re still confused. What if the decision process doesn’t have to be so mystical? What if a God-glorifying decision is plain and simple?

You know Bilbo Baggins. After his long journey, he returns a different hobbit. We were made to do the same.

Have you ever wished you could just ghost someone online rather than reply with the painful answer you know you need to give? If you’ve felt this temptation, let me assure you that you’re not alone—but also encourage you in a better way forward.

As your emotions rise and fall like the tides, do you feel as if God goes out with them? Be assured: God never leaves His beloved children. The Spirit remains within us as a constant, unchanging Person of the Trinity, despite our heart’s dullness at times.

I grew up writing and weaving stories—stories of chasing wild horses, children with mystical powers, and worlds unlike ours. But then as I grew up, I thought I had to outgrow fairytales, too. I had to write only inspirational articles and how-tos that told people what to think and believe. Yet as I cradled little children in my arms and read stories to them, and the scorching fires of suffering charred me, the inspirational and how-tos started to feel a little trite. I turned to stories for life, and my love was rekindled. Now, I want to help you rekindle that child-like heart that loves the fairytales and stories and show you how they can impact your faith as well.

With the gospel as our backdrop, we need to engage discernment as whole people. God created us with minds, souls, and bodies. When we only engage one of these, our discernment is lacking. It’s weakened because we’re only engaging part of us, rather than our entire selves.

I rarely dealt with or named my emotions—at least not the “negative” ones. They had to be killed, banished, ignored, and stuffed. I learned this from both Christian circles (like the counselor above) and my own fears. I didn’t want others to see my emotions. But what if we don’t need to pound every negative emotion into the dirt? What if there’s goodness in every emotion—even in our negative emotions that we don’t like so much?

Loving someone with a mental illness can feel like piecing together a broken glass mosaic—there are many tiny shards, and we don’t know where to start or even how to start in a way that won’t cause further injury. How do we love them? Through my own experience of being diagnosed with OCD, I share how we can come with sympathy, nuance, and the love of Christ.

During my teenage years, I read a plethora of books on Christian dating that taught me to think through my purity this way. They motivated me to remain pure by promising that it would keep my wedding night special, protect me from guys who would use me, and reduce future marital issues. Looking back, I wish someone had given me the greater, real reason to remain pure: To obey our holy God.

When we feel that fire inside of us, we need to tame it with a pause. As James wrote to the dispersed Christians, “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19–20 ESV). How can we practice being slow to speak and quick to hear? By pausing, studying, and listening.

Our Good Shepherd leads through both the even, green plains and the dark, rocky gorges. He never grows more distant on either terrain but leads us with his outstretched arm and protects us with his staff. As he leads us, his ear is bent low to listen to both our gratitude and our lament, and he never grows weary of hearing either—even if others do.

We’re exhorted to seek solitude, journal towards holiness, go on nature walks to connect with God, and take extended periods of silence to listen and clear our minds. Do all these practices and more, they say, to grow closer to God and be holy. Dear reader, do all these checklist items miss the theological and even practical mark that the Bible lays out for us?

Does repentance never feel like enough? Do you wonder how God could love someone as wicked as you? Do you doubt your salvation every time you sin? Sister, you can have assurance of your salvation and escape those weighty feelings of self-hate and condemnation—all through the gospel.