The Titus 2:4 Project

Someone posted a lovely meme this morning, complete with a beautiful Christian song playing in the background. Nice, right? I see posts like this every single day from people I know, respect, and love. But today, I was especially in tune with the Holy Spirit. As I read the words, He clearly showed me something: this is the problem today. Satan rarely tries to get a believer to outright worship him—that would be absurd, and we would never do it. What he does do, very effectively, is shift our eyes off Jesus and put them on ourselves. If we try to heal ourselves without God, we’re only treating symptoms. “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3) If we try to find ourselves apart from God’s plan, we remain lost. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11) If we try to know ourselves without knowing our Creator, we know nothing. “Bef...

Originally written in 2021 | Edited July 2025 I recently read a book that my daughter shared with me — Untamed by Glennon Doyle. About halfway through, something the author said  stuck with me: she talked about “finding your rhythm.” That phrase gave me pause. I read it again… and I have spent a lot of time thinking about it. What is my rhythm? What does that even mean to me? Physiologically, rhythm is the regular recurrence of an action or function — like your heartbeat. It’s the cadence of your life. The beat of the drum you march to. Since we sold the farm and I’m no longer working outside the home, my rhythm has slowed tremendously. I sleep until I feel rested. I (mostly) follow the cues of my own internal clock. I recognize how fortunate I am to be in a season where this is possible. Many women are not. I didn’t always live this way. For years, my rhythm was determined by the constant needs and wants of seven children. It was exhausting. But I survived. ...

Originally written July 2021 | Edited July 2025 Have you ever watched that show American Ninja Warrior (ANW) ? It’s the one where highly trained athletes compete on a course filled with intense physical challenges. You often see clips of their training beforehand — practicing monkey bars, rings, climbing, jumping — they come prepared. Their friends, families, teammates, and coaches are nearby, cheering them on, waving signs, holding their breath, and gasping in unison. These wanna-be warriors do their best to make it through the course, but if they fall into the water below, it’s game over. Still, their fans shout, “We love you anyway!” Then there’s that other show… Wipeout . You know the one — where contestants get bounced, punched, flung, and generally pummeled while trying to qualify for the final round. All the while, the announcers laugh, mock, and tease from the sidelines. When a contestant falls into the water (or mud), they scramble to get back to the last obstac...

The Rest of the Story This morning, I sat out on the lanai, sipping coffee and reading my Bible. Today’s reading took me through Nehemiah 9 to most of chapter 11. Like many Old Testament passages, these chapters included long lists of names...the kind that are hard to pronounce and easy to skip over. Shemaiah, Hasshub, Azrikam, Hashabiah, Jozabad, Bakbukiah, Pedaiah… you get the idea. Names that, in ancient Jerusalem, were as common as Steve, Mike, Scott, Jim, or Dave. But as I read through the list of those who signed the covenant (the binding agreement to return to God’s law) and the names of those who resettled Jerusalem after exile, a verse from 2 Timothy came to mind: “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” — 2 Timothy 3:16–17 So I asked God, “How are these names useful for teaching or correction, Lord?” And the Holy Spirit...

I learned how to ride a bike when I was about 7 years old. I followed my brother for miles and miles while our mother thought we were home watching cartoons. I spent long days pedaling around my hometown with one of my best childhood friends. I’ve ridden bikes as an adult—even with my children strapped into plastic seats perched above the back wheel. I’ve been comfortable on a bike most of my life. Until now. Now I have a fancy, expensive bike with weird little discs where pedals should be. It has Bluetooth shifting for the gears. This bicycle cost more than my first three cars— combined . Naturally, I got all the right gear: the padded britches, the zip-up jersey with pockets on the back, the padded gloves, the aerodynamic helmet, the blinking LED lights, the phone holder so I can watch my mph and stats on an app… and the pretty shoes with little holes that lock into those funny-looking pedals to help me get more power from each push. So why am I suddenly uncomfortable on ...

Last Sunday was Mother's Day. At our church they did a child dedication service. Several families presented their youngest children before the congregation to publicly profess their intentions of raising the child in the way of the Lord. A beautiful, albeit brief 'ceremony' of sorts. I remember the day I did that with my first born.  Many years ago now.  And something occurred to me, now that this child is in the throes of adulthood - facing adult struggles. The verse that the pastor had spoken over my sweet little infant that day was from 1 Samuel 1:27: "For this child I prayed..." I have tossed this verse around in my head for the past few days and this morning, as I laid awake in the wee hours of the morning, I was suddenly in grammar class with the Holy Spirit before me at the chalkboard, walking me through this simple verse, using a long pointer stick as we read it over and over, each time emphasizing a different word... FOR this child I prayed...      For...