Almost every morning, he brings me coffee.

He sets the cup on my nightstand, and I grunt and roll over. I’ve never been one to start my day jumping out of bed with a smile. A few minutes later he squeezes my shoulder before walking downstairs, offering a gentle reminder that my beloved drink is getting cold.

Even on the rare day when I wake up before everyone else, I know the coffee will be ready. The night before, he sets the pot to brew first thing in the morning. He puts my favorite mug next to it—the oversized one that will hold enough caffeine to keep me fueled for at least a few hours.

At my childhood home, we had a massive oak tree that towered over almost the entire yard. It housed squirrels and birds, provided shade as we played in the grass, and supported a tire swing we enjoyed for hours on end.

But I never noticed the tiny movements that made its branches stretch over the lawn or its roots dig deep into the earth. I never saw it grow, yet somehow that tree changed from a seed to a towering oak.

Apparently tiny movements add up.

I have a stack of books on my desk…and the side table in my office…and my nightstand…and another stack on the floor. I’m a bit unrealistic about the time I actually have to read in a day, but I still can’t help surrounding myself with good books. Maybe you can relate.

So, I thought I’d share a few books that are on my shelf (or soon will be). Some of these have been out for a while, some are newer. But I think all of them will be worth reading, and I can’t wait to dive in.

I’ve been feeling almost paralyzed lately, not sure what to do or write, uncertain how to handle all that’s going on in the world. As I’d sit there unable to wade through everything, the dishes piled up, my kids fought, and my very real, ordinary life continued to go on–whether I was ready or not.

This morning, I sat down with a cup of coffee and my journal. Pen in hand, I started to unravel the threads in my heart and mind. I started to put it on the page and pray through it all.

And I started to reset.

There are days–even weeks, months, or years–when we need to set some of our normal life aside to handle whatever new thing life has thrown at us. Then, there are days when we need to put our pen to paper, feet to the floor, hands to work…and get back at it.

“This is the best day ever!”

My kids have taken to shouting that hyperbolic statement nearly any time they do something they enjoy. Eating ice cream, riding bikes, going to a friend’s house—these all apparently deserve the title of “best day ever.”

The pendulum swings just as far in the other direction, of course. There are about a hundred activities that can cause them to declare any given day the worst ever—eating cooked carrots, having to clean their rooms, not being allowed to play with the hose at 8am when it’s 50 degrees outside, wearing shoes that fit. Who knew that last one could so easily result in a three-year-old naming an otherwise normal Thursday “the worst day ever.”

Throughout his whole letter, James has been instructing his readers to live out their faith—and he’s been especially concerned with how they do that in suffering. Look back to the very first verse of this book. James writes to Jewish believers scattered around the world (“the twelve tribes in the Dispersion”). They’re dealing with persecution and long to one day experience the restoration God promised. But in the meantime, first century life has been hard, especially as followers of Christ.

They’re also navigating divisions within the Church, divisions between Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, honored and lowly. In the middle of all of this, James calls them to a life that reflects the kingdom and the character of God. We’ve seen the practical exhortations he’s given like avoiding partiality, watching their speech, submitting desires to God, and not putting their trust in plans or possessions. Then, we reach the end of his letter, which offers a fitting conclusion to all he’s instructed God’s people to do thus far: 1) pray and 2) help one another live out the truth.

A few days ago on my Instagram Stories, I shared someone’s post that I had come across about the Day of the Dead. I was attempting to learn and appreciate more about this Mexican holiday, but it turns out, I didn’t take the time to get all the information. The post I shared (which I’ve since taken down) made this holiday seem light-hearted, harmless, and joyful–and to be honest, I failed to do my research. My friend, Cynthia, kindly responded to me with additional information, showing me that there was more to the story.

We moved our conversation to email, and Cynthia sent me facts as well as her stories and opinions about the Day of the Dead. I realized how little I knew–and how easy it can be to believe things are harmless, when in reality, we are fighting a very real spiritual battle.

Cynthia’s words were so helpful and eye-opening, and I asked her if I could share them with you here. In the following post, she offers personal experiences, facts about the Day of the Dead, her own opinions, and then a closing story to help us to recognize the spiritual forces of evil trying to take us down. But, as she writes below, “Of course, Jesus wins. His light breaks through the darkness.”

I’m not a farmer. This year, I managed to keep a few plants alive inside my house, but other than that and a couple summertime herbs, my agricultural experience is next to nothing. I don’t know what it’s like to rely on the weather for food. But James’ readers know this well, and here he offers a metaphor that helps them understand what it looks like to be patient as they wait. Just like a farmer has to wait for his or her crop to bear fruit and in the process waits for the rains to come, so we wait for the return of the Lord.

I think we can all understand this passage better after the events of 2020. We’re more aware now than we were a few months ago that our plans are not secure. Our control is an illusion, our life a mist. We truly do not know what tomorrow will bring, as James reminds us.

That may be the understatement of the year.

Right before this passage, James warned against worldliness. He reminded us that we are prone to arrogance and pride. We’re selfish and eager to spend what we’ve been given on our own passions (James 4:2-3). Instead, we’re meant to draw near to God in humble repentance (verses 6-10). Arrogance and pride are antithetical to kingdom living.

When I started this series, it didn’t occur to me that I’d be writing about fights, quarrels, taming the tongue, and similar subjects during such a tense, chaotic year. I spent time studying the book of James earlier in the year, and I wanted to dive deeper into it. It’s practical, convicting, and essential for the Church. But I did not realize from the outset how relevant and how personally convicting this short book would be. Honestly, if I knew how much I’d have to wrestle with James’ words in my own life and the responsibility of sharing them on my blog, I’m not sure I would have undertaken this project.

Thankfully, God knew I needed this, and it’s sure been a humbling process. I found that to be especially true as I studied this section.

I have never felt so horrible as a parent.

We finished lunch, and I put a movie on my for twins in the basement while I gave my two-year-old a bath. He seemed to wear summer all over his body. As I wiped off the jelly, dirt, and sweat from my little boy, I heard a knock at the door. I thought it was Amazon or maybe a door-to-door salesperson, so I didn’t answer.

Another knock.

I stood up from kneeling in front of the bathtub and glanced out the window. A woman was heading back to her car, and then I quickly realized she was just going to grab something and come back. I checked on my son in the tub, then ran downstairs to open the door.

“Hello?” I called after her. “Can I help you?”

“I’m just going to grab my ID.”

Huh? I scrolled through my memories, trying to place this woman. Did I know her? Was I supposed to know what she was there for? Did I have an appointment I forgot about?

I stood at the door, confused. She walked right into my house, as if she had a right to be there.

“DCFS,” she said. I don’t even remember what she said next. Everything in my mind got fuzzy, and all I could think to say was, “Umm, I’ve got a kid in the tub. Can you give me a minute?”

Meekness isn’t exactly a highly valued trait in our society. Independence. Strength. Courage. Fortitude. We tend, at least in the United States, to admire those qualities. But meekness? And the meekness of wisdom? Not so much.

But James tells us that true wisdom isn’t about just knowing things. It’s not about shouting more loudly than the person next to us. True wisdom comes from a faith rooted in God and shows itself through our conduct and our humility.