Friday’s PET scan was different. That tech had gone through her spiel, explaining I wouldn’t feel anything. No sensation of the concoction going in, no sense of it circulating, no side effects. “Just stay away from pregnant women, children under five, and young animals for the next eighteen hours,” she said. “Oh, and don’t share a bathroom with anyone.”

“No side effects?” I asked. “Then how do you explain Spiderman?”

She laughed. “I wish.”

But that was on Friday when I was still a stranger to scans. This is five days later. I’m an old pro. The idea of glowing medical substances and a photo shoot of my insides is now far less terrifying than, say, a bank robbery. It’s just a funny coincidence that they have you raise your hands over your head. Like it’s a stick-up.

My asbestos-gloved PET scan tech was slim and tattooed, her features holding hints of Eastern lands. Today’s CT guy is stocky and reminds me of my youngest son–nut brown skin and the posture of a soldier, both young men having served in the US Army. The kind of guy you feel will keep you safe in the event of an emergency.

Unlike the radioactive material of a PET scan, the contrast dye for a CT scan, he explained, does leave an impression as it travels the circulatory system. “There will be a warm sensation, and you might feel like you’re wetting your pants, but you aren’t.”

Nice to know.

In the weeks before my scans, God had prepared me with a couple of Bible passages that made several appearances by way of songs, books, devotionals, and email subscriptions. This has happened often over the months of my journey from almost-cancer to definitely-cancer, but these two passages seem particularly appropriate for any occasion when one is called to stretch out for a ten-to-thirty-minute examination of her neck-to-midthigh insides.

I’ve been committing Psalm 139 to memory. Not a completed task, but certain phrases rise and accompany my glide into the machine.

O, Lord, You have searched me and known me…even the darkness is not dark to you…For You formed my inward parts…You knitted me together…I am fearfully and wonderfully made…My frame was not hidden from You…Your eyes saw my unformed substance.

A reassuring reminder that God will not be surprised by whatever these scans might reveal.

I follow recorded breathing instructions and the second passage comes to mind, Isaiah 41:10-13. I memorized Isaiah 41:10 decades ago, a comfort and lifeline in the days when my first marriage crumbled. I hadn’t noticed the middle verses until recently. I read Isaiah 41:13 in a devotional and looked it up in my Bible to see it in context. As I hold my breath and body still for image-taking, verses 11 and 12 inspire thoughts not likely intended by Isaiah, for he wrote them long before we had machinery to ascertain the status of inner wars, but perhaps you can imagine how these verses could be shaped into prayer for anyone involved in the kind of reconnaissance mission that’s mine today.

…those who strive against you shall be as nothing and shall perish. You shall seek those who contend with you, but you shall not find them; those who war against you shall be as nothing at all.

I remember that Isaiah 41:13 circles back to the sentiments of 41:10, speaking again of God’s presence, comfort, and help, but my thoughts are interrupted by the return of the tech. He holds my right hand, lifting it to rest on the white, donut-shaped, picture-taking tunnel, then releases the bagged iodine into my I.V. tube. “Tell me when you start to feel warmth in your neck or chest,” he says.

“Okay, yes. I feel it in my chest.” And then, glad for his earlier assurance that I would not actually wet my pants, “Oh, I see what you mean. Definitely feeling that now.”

He gently returns my right hand to its stick-up position and leaves the room for the “with contrast” part of my scan.

Back home spending time alone with God, I’m grateful for the kindness and help of the imaging staff who patiently explained what I could expect, answered my questions and instructed me in what to do. I review Psalm 139 and Isaiah 41:10-12, thanking God for the Scriptures that came along to so personally prepare me, occupying my mind and settling my heart in the long minutes of holding my body perfectly still. I reflect on the long familiar words of Isaiah 41:10—Do not fear for I am with you.

When I get to verse 13, I remember how the tech came in and held my right hand against the machine, and I’m leveled.

For I, the Lord God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.”

Really sweet, right? But that’s not what levels me. What really gets me is what was written on the identification badge he wore.

My technician’s name was Jesus.

The post What’s in a Nametag? appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

That’s the bit of grace I’m aiming to make available to you before the last day of May goes by. The story is written. The cover is ready. I’m just busy jumping the last few technical hurdles to make it easy for you to access through your favorite reading machine (though wouldn’t it be fun if I sent you a story you could actually roll up and carry in your back pocket?).

Now, I just need a bit of grace from you as you wait.

I’m clumsily jumping those hurdles, but the finish line is in sight. (I’m pretty sure that’s it up ahead in the distance : )

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Picture a Grandpa and Grandma on a two-hour early Sunday morning road trip with 9-year-old twin grandsons—my bright idea for how we could all attend an out-of-town birthday party without missing Sunday worship. (Church always being Sunday’s top priority, I found a church in our association just twelve minutes from the party location.) We arrived with doughnuts to share with the congregation (because doughnuts are a surefire way to make friends, right?).

At this point I should explain that the twins attend a wonderful Bible-teaching church with traditions that differ from the wonderful Bible-teaching church where my husband and I are members. While we have liturgy and weekly communion in a one-room church house (people of all ages sitting together through one long service), they’re used to congregational singing followed by age-appropriate teaching in Sunday school rooms. So, with this one being more like our home church than theirs, it behooved us to prepare our active grandsons for a longer sit-quietly experience than they were used to. (And no, if you’re wondering, behooved isn’t one of my 2025 words, but isn’t it fun to give it a little screentime?)

Our church provides little ones with prompts for taking sermon notes, so, seeing the church we were visiting didn’t have an equivalent, I tore some pages from my notebook, grabbed a couple of extra pens and gave the boys an assignment.

“I want you to write down five to ten words you hear during the sermon and make tally marks every time you hear them repeated.”

Did they do it?

You betcha! I believe “Jesus” and “Love” made it onto both lists with several tally marks for each.

It strikes me the word-of-the-year practice is something like what I did to prepare my grandkids for that church service. It’s an experience where God metaphorically hands His children a piece of paper to help them navigate the coming year. My grandsons noticed particular words that repeated in the sermon, in the same way a word-of-the-year participant will see her word showing up in Bible reading, songs, conversations, movies, books, and even a Sunday sermon or two.

This year, the way one word lead to another and another for me reminds me of a fairy tale I loved as a child, The Princess Who Never Laughed (read here for a fairytale break). Instead of highlighting just one word for me to notice, study, and meditate upon, it feels like God did something more like what I did with my grandkids. Something more like the old grey man in the fairy tale did for Simpleton. He handed me a shovel and instructed me to dig for one golden word that would lead to others. One gift that would bring others along in a parade for my King’s pleasure.

When I introduced the idea for this 2025 series to my email subscribers in January, I included two verses.

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”

This is the first verse of many I included on two printed pages I’ve been using for daily meditation. I’ve walked through the verses and prayers on those pages most mornings and again at bedtime, my words-of-the-year marked like stepping stones. PLANS…PURPOSE…STAND…

As I ponder and meditate, I often recall other verses with additional words that connect and repeat. I’ve circled, underlined, color-coded and written in between paragraphs and along page borders. Not even three months into the year, my pages are soft and wrinkled and worn, and still these stepping stones lead me along with added nuance and weight.

The other verse I wrote in that January email, starts the section of my meditation pages where LIGHT, WALK, DARKNESS, WORD and SHONE/SHINES take center stage.

After much prayer, I’m sharing that section with you today. Not simply as it’s written on the pages, but in the way it might flow as I meditate upon it. Because I’m lead to emphasize different words and phrases on different days, grouping and ordering lines differently from the way they originally appeared. Sometimes I meditate on just one verse or even part of a verse, other times I read through from beginning to end. One time, after several weeks of using these pages as a guide, I noticed a word I hadn’t paid much attention to in previous readings.

DWELT appeared not in one verse but two, and drew me to focus on the connection.

Since this developed over several weeks of prayer and memory and word search, I don’t know if you will see, with just one reading, all that I see.  I imagine, if my grandsons listened to that same sermon day after day, new words would have made their way onto Lyle and Matthew’s lists. There would be more tally marks on the original words as they heard them in places they hadn’t noticed the first time. And that’s what’s happened to me with the Scriptures and prayers I wrote down for myself at the beginning of this year.

But, even though you might not get as much out of it as I do, I’d like to share this portion of my word walk with you, one word leading to another, new words connecting and showing up in one verse after another, adding in, circling back, lines repeating like a chorus. (To help in this endeavor, I’ve included the book from which each Scripture is taken and put repeating words into ALL CAPS, bolding each one the first time it appears).

So, these words from my meditation pages may not, on first reading, make any more sense to you than that sermon in its entirety would have made to my nine-year-old grandsons (who are, I should say—in case they read this—now ten). But I hope I’ve given you enough direction to dig in and find a golden word or two. Just enough to get you started on your own word parade.

A  Meditation on Walk, Light, Word, Path, Darkness (and a few more)

We WALK as children of LIGHT (for the fruit of LIGHT is found in all that is GOOD and right and true) seeking to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. (Ephesians)

Your WORD is a lamp to my feet and a LIGHT to my PATH. (Psalms)

IN THE BEGINNING was the WORD, and the WORD was with God, and the WORD was God. He was IN THE BEGINNING with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the LIGHT of men. (Gospel of John)

The people who WALKed in DARKNESS have seen a great LIGHT; Those who DWELT in a land of deep DARKNESS, on them has LIGHT SHONE. The LIGHT SHINES in the DARKNESS, and the DARKNESS has not overcome it. (Isaiah)

And the WORD became flesh and DWELT among us. (Gospel of John)

Again Jesus spoke to them saying, “I am the LIGHT of the world. Whoever follows Me will not WALK in DARKNESS, but will have the LIGHT of LIFE. (Gospel of John)

Your WORD is a lamp to my feet and a LIGHT to my PATH.

He leads me in PATHs of righteousness for His Name’s sake. (Psalms)

WALK as children of LIGHT (for the fruit of LIGHT can be found in all that is GOOD and right and true).

I will give you as a covenant for the people, a LIGHT for the nations. To open the eyes that are blind, to lead out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in DARKNESS. And I will lead the blind in a way they do not know. In PATHs that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn this DARKNESS before them into LIGHT. (Isaiah)

Your WORD is a lamp to my feet and a LIGHT to my PATH.

IN THE BEGINNING, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and DARKNESS was over the face of the earth. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. And God said, “Let there be LIGHT, and there was LIGHT. And God saw that the LIGHT was GOOD. And God separated the LIGHT from the DARKNESS. God called the LIGHT Day and the DARKNESS He called Night. (Genesis)

And the city has no need of sun or moon to SHINE on it, for the glory of God gives it LIGHT, and its LAMP is the Lamb. By its LIGHT will the nations WALK. (Revelations)

Your WORD is a lamp to my feet and a LIGHT to my PATH.

And night will be no more. They will need no LIGHT of LAMP or sun, for the Lord God will be their LIGHT.  (Revelations)

IN THE BEGINNING was the WORD, and the WORD was with God, and the WORD was God. He was IN THE BEGINNING with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the LIGHT of men. (Gospel of John)

We WALK as children of LIGHT, seeking to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Your WORD is a LAMP to our FEET and a LIGHT to our PATH. (Ephesians, Isaiah)

*Scriptures here taken from: Ephesians 5:8-10, Psalm 119:105, John 1:1-5&14, Isaiah 9:2, John 8:12, Psalm 23, Isaiah 42:6,7,16, Genesis 1:1-5, Revelations 21:23, 24, Revelations 22:25. Please note, this is a meditation and not a study. Please look up scripture passages for full meaning in context.

Perhaps it’s obvious I’m no expert on meditation, but meditation was once described to me as a holy kind of worrying (sadly, something I am an expert on). So, instead of focusing, pondering and ruminating on every fearful thought that enters my mind, I’m practicing this way of replacing worries with the word of God. Turning these verses over in my mind, looking at them from different angles, letting them sink in and repeat and point to additional verses to become a cadence arising in unexpected moments. Helping me walk more consistently, hopefully, and joyfully as a child of light.

P.S. If we were having this conversation in front of my fireplace right now, this is the time I would pull out my marked up pages. You might then nod politely and say, “Well, it’s been a nice visit, but the weather looks threatening (which is true), so I’d better go.” But if you think you’d be more likely to want a closer look at those pages as a visual aid to what I’m here describing, I’d be happy to email you a scanned copy.

And no judgments please. This isn’t something I’ve prettily prepared for my blog friends or my email friends. It’s just something tucked into my journal that I’m willing to share with my fireplace friends. So, if that’s you, write me at jody@jodyevans.com and ask.

The post To Walk as Children of Light appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine

– Song of Solomon 6:3

You know what to expect from valentine stories, don’t you? Something about a couple and their love for each other. Add in some obstacles to overcome, candles, flowers, chocolate, and a wedding in the end. But that’s not what this is. This one’s a love story starring God.

(Since so many Christmas movies these days are about couples falling in love, I figure it’d be only fair to highjack valentine season for more of a God focus.)

This tale may be devoid of flowers and candlelight, but do remember the Hero overcame the greatest of obstacles to rescue His love and make her His own.

With that settled, let’s start with the undeniable romance of the Ten Commandments.

What? You don’t see the romance?

Consider the words Jesus used to answer the question, What is the greatest commandment? His response was basically love and more love.

Those weren’t His exact words, but isn’t it a bit startling to see that He stitched the word Commandment to the word Love.

Maybe not such a surprise to the crowd of Jews listening in as to your average, modern day American. After all, a good Jew was probably quite familiar with the words of the Shema:

Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one. And as for you, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.

For this born-in-the-20th-century-American-girl, the word commandment typically turns my thoughts to The Ten Commandments—a God-prescribed list of dos and don’ts.

Over time, though, and with the help of some friends, I’ve come to see The Ten Commandments in a different way. As more of a love note than a table of rules.

Ann Voskamp uses this lens beautifully in Day 10 of her book, The Greatest Gift. There she illustrates how the giving of The Ten Commandments was full of wedding symbology. She includes these three (click on the links for a fun–and brief–explanation of the terms):

• The mikveh, a preparatory purification, evident in God’s instruction to Moses when He said, “Go to the people and consecrate them today and tomorrow and let them wash their garments.”
• The canopy of cloud that covered Mount Sinai can be viewed as a sort of chuppah.
• The commandments themselves, she views as a form of ketubah. A love contract.

When I picture them in this way, as part of a wedding ceremony, I can see God’s commands aren’t simply rules, but more akin to vows of love. Take the third commandment for instance, the one about not taking the name of the Lord in vain. In the context of a wedding, a bride takes her husband’s name as her own. To take her husband’s name in vain would include more than merely saying it in a disrespectful way but anything she does that is unworthy of being Mrs. Somebody. Acting as if she is not married to him. As if she does not belong to him at all. Taking her husband’s name in vain is not a thing we would expect a loving bride to ever want to do.

A Matter of the Heart

I again saw the commandments-and-love connection in a book by Timothy S Lane and Paul David Tripp. Coincidentally, perhaps (or perhaps, not?), these authors address The Ten Commandments in chapter 10. The subtitle of this section? “The Law and the Heart.” Here they write that the Commandments emphasize the centrality of the heart.

Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.’”

See? Love and more love.

Since this was the first part of Christ’s answer, it’s a good idea to ponder it deeply and continuously. Christ’s bride is to love Him with everything she is, committing herself fully to Him, taking on His name as her own and being changed because of it. Then He went on to say more.

Love Your Neighbor as Yourself

The second most important commandment is also well-known amongst Christians and—I would venture to guess—people with any knowledge of the Bible at all. But figuring out how to live it out isn’t as simple as it would seem. In my closest human relationships, I fear I sometimes give a bigger piece of my heart or mind or strength to my neighbor than I do to God, thereby loving my neighbor in the way I’m meant to love God.  At other times, though I believe myself to be loving God rightly, I’m quite content to treat certain neighbors as unworthy of my attention or kindness.

And what about periods of self-hate or low self-esteem? How can it be right for anyone to love her neighbor as she loves herself at those times?

To solve that one, the world (and some preachers) would tell us a person must first love herself before she can properly love her neighbor. Which seems sort of right, but I can’t pinpoint scriptural examples that demonstrate this is so. Can you?

I’ve always assumed to love my neighbor as myself means I should treat my neighbor with the same loving good will I have toward myself, but lately, I’ve come to consider one more possible layer of interpretation. This isn’t based on scholarly study of the original language, but on my habit of digging into the meaning of words in my own native (AKA only) language. And according to my own culture.

I’ve done that with this passage because I’ve noticed a different sort of problem in the way I love my neighbor. In my desire to love my fellow humans well, I’ve taken it upon myself to always be available, always knowing exactly what he or she needs, and always able to supply whatever that may be.

Do you see an “omni” pattern here in my alwayses? It’s as if I believe I ought to be loving my neighbor with omnipresence, omniscience, and omnipotence.

Of course, I fail. Because those attributes aren’t mine. The sad truth is I’ve been trying to love my neighbor not as I’m designed to love but as only God can. As if I should (and could) be God to them through my love.

It’s like I know enough that I’m in the right love story, only I’ve gotten things out of order. I’ve miscast myself in a playbill that would read something like this:

Love Story I and II (or maybe II and then I?)

God……… played by God (with assistance from Jody)

Jody……… played by???? (Not available, she’s too busy trying to play God)

Jody’s projects……… unwittingly played by neighbors

(No wonder I’ve been wearing myself out and missing my cues!)

These days, I’m looking at a different playbill. One with Parts solidly in the proper order and the characters properly cast.

Loving God – Part 1

God……… played by God

Bride……… played by Christ’s church (including Jody playing her part with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength)

Loving God – Part II

God……… played by God

Bride……… played by Christ’s church (including you playing yourself and Jody playing herself)

Neighbors……… played by everyone else

And, like every good love story, whatever heartache and difficulty we find along the way, we can count on things wrapping up with a big, beautiful wedding celebration.

Revelations 

Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out,

“Hallelujah! For the Lord our God

The Almighty reigns.

Let us rejoice and exult

And give Him the glory,

For the marriage of the Lamb has come,

And His bride has made herself ready.”

(Chapter nineteen, verses six and seven)

Now, don’t you think that’s a love story worth celebrating the whole year through?

The post An Unexpected Love Story appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

January is the time of year for resolutions, I know. Time to make big plans for improving the way you do life. Time to focus on goals and how to finally accomplish them. To determine how you will grow your business or shrink your waistline (or both) in the coming year.

The turn of a new year is also the time many folks decide to give special attention to a word-of-the-year.

New Year’s resolutions and choosing a word-of-the-year are two practices I follow a lot of years, but not all.

I don’t remember my resolution from last year, or if I even had one. If I did, I’m sure it included pitching my soon-to-be completed, edited, and polished novel to a list of agents. (That resolution has gathered some mileage over the last several New Years.) But, formally resolved or not, by the start of the last quarter of 2024, I could see I’d made progress on my novel goals. I was polishing away on my final (I hoped) draft, sending chapters to my Timothy and preparing my proposal for a list of agents whom I thought might be interested.

What I do remember is not one word, but two, Courage and Humility, took me by the hands to lead me on a brisk, scenic walk through the hills and valleys of the year. A pair I enjoyed spending time with. An interesting and balanced duo that offered lessons for stepping forward in scary places and, in other ways, stepping back. Teaching me I don’t have to make such a big deal of myself (what a relief!).

In the final quarter of 2024, a likely candidate came forward as 2025’s word-of-the-year. A word quickly followed by another.

And another.

And another.

When a flu knocked me off my feet two days before Thanksgiving, hours of bed-bound reading time brought new candidates via the stack of books on my nightstand. Repeated in Scripture and song, an ever-lengthening parade of words marched through my mind carrying an unlikely resolution hoisted on their shoulders: 

Go slow and do less in 2025!

This was unexpected. Not a slogan that fits my idea of resolution material in general and far from the top of my needed-improvements list. (Let’s just say Speedy Doer would not be an apt description for this gal!)

The aftereffects of my pre-Thanksgiving flu dragged on until a Christmas cold knocked my baby steps of restored energy back to the ground. And after getting banged up a bit by twice tumbling down the bottom steps of my staircase, I could see going slow had benefits I hadn’t thought of.

So, I carefully pulled Christmas decorations from the attic at a one-box-per-day pace. I bought and wrapped gifts (or not) on a case by case basis. It felt sloppy and wrong until a bout of post-flu, low-grade depression took care of that, slowing even my thoughts about what matters in the doing of the holidays.

Now, having packed away the last Christmas decorations by the midpoint of January with only a dozen or so Christmas cards left to sign and address, I’m signing and addressing with a slow and loving hand. My guilt-free transition into this slow year.

I don’t know exactly what my slow year will look like other than an unhurried pondering of the dozen or so words-of-the-year that look to be walking through it with me. I’m excited to tell you the stories behind them as, starting next month, I bring a few at a time. (Not a jumping up and down excited, more like a quiet, glowing, gladness of anticipation.)

A leisurely conversation inviting you to go slow, put aside some doings, and ponder along with me. 

Please join this slow conversation with a word or two (or more) of your own ponderings in the comments below.

This month’s question: What does your resolution or word-of-the-year practice like? (if you don’t have either practice, I’d love to know about that, too)

The post Go Slow and Do Less in 2025! Rah, Rah, Rah! appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

I remember when I learned such a malady existed. It was a staggering moment in elementary school when a fellow student casually mentioned he didn’t read.

It gave me something like the feeling I’d had while lying on the living room floor during a boring grown-up movie my parents were watching. One of the characters, upon being asked what he would like to drink, answered, “I don’t drink.”

That got my attention. I didn’t understand how it was possible for a person to live if he didn’t drink.

So it was with the kid at school. I couldn’t fathom it. Not read? It was as if he’d said he didn’t breathe.

I learned, as with the case of the movie teetotaler, there was a reasonable explanation. My young friend wasn’t saying he didn’t read at all, only that he didn’t read anything for pleasure. He limited himself to the bare necessities of literary hydration. Reading, for him, consisted of compulsory assignments. A pile of school books. A sentence of sentences. Not something a person would choose to do in his free time.

I’m pretty sure, since you’ve chosen to hang out with me, that’s not your story. I’m pretty sure you enjoy carving out moments in your afternoons or evenings or weekends to spend with a good tale. But I’m wondering if, like me, you find it increasingly difficult to justify the time when there is so much to do. And so many compulsory reading assignments required of you just to function in and understand all the important things going on in the “real” world.

If so, I hope this little interview with my oldest daughter might put that struggle to rest and send you back to your reading corner confident that your fiction habit is not only pleasurable but also highly beneficial.

Ashly, a middle school English teacher and mother to two adorable and precocious children under nine, is also an avid reader. So, as part of an assignment for a course I was taking, I asked her a few questions about her fiction habits.

ME: Why do you read fiction?

ASHLY: Really, I like stories. And I think my favorite thing about reading fiction is just being taken away from

my life and put into a different experience and a different world. I think the greatest thing about fiction is that

it teaches empathy and understanding of other people’s experiences because it shows you something new that

you can relate to. Because humans are humans (or there are human qualities in everything that’s written about

even if your subjects aren’t human).

I read more fiction, I think, because I read to fall asleep at night. Nothing settles my mind or takes me out of my

own cycle of thinking about things than reading someone else’s story. I can do the same thing with story-based

fiction, like history or memoir. But if it’s something like a parenting book or any kind of informational book,

then I’m thinking too much. I need fiction to take me out of my own head and let me fall asleep at night.

ME: Where do you go when looking for your next read?

ASHLY: I enjoy The New Yorker and will often look up the synopses of books mentioned there. If I like a short

story published in the magazine, I’ll look up the author and find many of those authors also have novels.

A lot of people on Instagram will post about five or so of their favorite recent reads, so I get a lot of

recommendations that way and also from friends. My friend Kelly is always posting books she’s read and liked. I

have a few other teacher friends who will post when they finish a book they really like. I’m also in a book club so

sometimes the book I’m reading is because somebody put its title in the hat.

It didn’t come up in that conversation, but I do know, like me, Ashly enjoys rereading her personal favorites. Depending on my mood or circumstances, I like to revisit particular fictional friends. I like knowing what I can expect. There’s something comforting in spending time with people whose stories and character arcs haven’t changed in the interim. Folks who, paradoxically, sometimes show me ways I’ve changed since last we met.

I do love the excitement of opening a new book with the possibility of discovering new worlds. But between times, revisiting old literary friends does something settling in my soul. It’s like stretching out under a tree in my own yard.

I know September is, for many of us, a busy season. A time to get schoolbooks and school schedules and school activities in order.

But maybe this transition from summer to autumn is also a time to put on a light jacket, stretch out under a shady tree and open a book. A time to remember what it is to live in another world for a while and see life in new ways. Or a time to visit old worlds and discover how you yourself have become newer.

Here are just a few of the titles I like to revisit: The Anne of Green Gables books, Gone with the Wind, Peace Like a River, Miss Benson’s Beetle, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, The Scent of Water, The Far Pavilions, Christy, A Wrinkle in Time, The Dean’s Watch, The Chronicles of Narnia, Still Life (the one by Christa Parrish), All Creatures Great and Small 

What keeps you reading fiction (or do you stick to non-fiction)?

Do you see some mutual friends in my list?

What stories do you like to revisit from time to time?

Do you like to reread favorites, or do you always reach for something new?

What books are keeping you company this September? I’d love to know.

The post Why Read Fiction? appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

A Hammocky Invitation

I’ve heard more than a few people found the days of summer more crazy and hazy than lazy this year.

If this is you, please carve out a few minutes to find yourself a quiet place in the shade for a late summer read (or even two!). I’ve picked out a selection of stories from my blog shelf for you to choose from. Just click on whichever is most inviting to you today and enjoy.

• Non-fiction (10 minutes): The story behind my stories (Just in time for election season!)
• Fiction (18 minutes): A little romance (He’s not your everyday romantic hero)
• Fiction (15 minutes): A story of contentment (for when your life isn’t shaping up to be what everyone expected)
• Fiction: (14 minutes) A nudge in a Christmasy direction (reflections on the one Story that’s always in season)

(And if you really want to do it up right, may I suggest a frosty glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade?)

How about you?

Was your summer crazy, hazy, lazy or something else altogether? Please share your summer thoughts in the comments below. Or if that’s not the kind of sharing you want to do today, perhaps you might like to share this reading invitation with a friend who could use a quiet break. Of course, you are always welcome to do both : )

The post A Breath of Summer Air appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

our inner self is being renewed day by day.” 2 Corinthians 4:16

Once upon a time I was the picture of health. I could eat whatever I wanted, travel wherever my budget and schedule allowed, and teach six or more hours a day at the ballroom dance studio. My moods were a little wobbly at times, and I got hit by insomnia on occasion. Otherwise, I didn’t give my health a lot of thought.

Suddenly, the picture changed, and I started giving my health a whole lot of thought. Sleep logs and food logs accompanied frequent visits to the phlebotomist, naturopath, and, of course, Google. That wasn’t the direction I’d planned for my story to go. It didn’t feel like it ought to be my story at all.

I suppose that’s the way it is with a lot of interesting stories. Lucy Pevensie (before she was queen of Narnia) certainly didn’t plan for hers to include a war-induced move to stay with an elderly relative in a house old enough to entice tourist parades through the halls. She must have felt something had gone awfully wrong to so dislodge her from ordinary life. Yet, in that misplaced place, she found a door into another story altogether, with a way of life and a cast of characters she’d never imagined.

So it was with me.

Only, instead of creatures with curious abilities and unexpected features—the talking beavers and fauns in the land of Narnia—I met people with an assortment of curious symptoms and unexpected limitations. I met them in the back end of the doctor’s office, all of us hooked to IVs for hours at a time, living long, hard, wintery days, losing hope that spring or even Christmas would ever come again. Hard winter had staked a claim on our bodies: problems with digestion, sleep, pain, focus, memory, and energy, all tied up with not-so-tidy bows of anxiety, depression, or both. All the expensive and tedious “cures”—IV protocols, special diets, and supplements—bringing inadequate solutions and new frosty symptoms into our Christmasless stories.

We shared a lot of hard stories in the IV room.

I bet you’ve heard a few sad health tales yourself. Perhaps someone in your circle doesn’t really look sick but is always making appointments, trying some new supplement, or bringing the latest gluten-free, dairy-free, practically food-free recipe to your family party. Health issues aren’t always food related, but you’ll notice we affected know enough about GMOs and depleted soil to suspect dietary change is the secret sauce to bring the spring thaw we’re prayerfully awaiting. So we try.

The deepest part of my dark winter limited me to white rice, chicken, beef, fish, eggs, butter, mushrooms, sweet potatoes, squash, onions, salt, and a few oils. If I stuck to those foods and spent a few hours a week hooked to IVs, my symptoms were manageable. The managing was sort of exhausting and time-consuming, and bringing my own food to eat when dining away from home was awkward. But I was grateful to have found relief from symptoms. So I counted my blessings and accepted my somewhat wintery life.

Then I learned about neuroplasticity, the limbic system, and all sorts of fearfully wonderful things about the bodies God designed for us earth people to inhabit. More to the point for me, I learned controlling the food I allowed on my plate wasn’t necessarily the dietary answer to ending my long winter.

You know the saying “Food for thought”? Well, it seems some of the thoughts I’d been subconsciously chewing and chewing on lacked the nutrition my body’s headquarters required. Instead of running the everyday systems of rest and digest, my thought fuel kept my body operating in fight-for-your-life and run-for-your-life modes. Those are just the thing when a bear happens to be tearing after a person but are overkill for a person threatened by a spoonful of sugar. That kind of vigilant attention is akin to employing a machine gun to shoo a housefly.

I blasted bullets every day.

All the live long day.

Through the nights too.

(You can imagine the dings in the furniture!)

In recent decades, science has made giant strides in understanding the brain. We’ve learned it isn’t hardwired in youth as once believed but retains the ability to make new neural pathways throughout our lives. We’ve learned how thoughts release chemicals that communicate whether we should operate with war or peace responses—with supplies from the ready-for-war closet (cortisol, adrenaline, norepinephrine) or the peacetime closet (dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins). We’ve seen how extended interior war results in an array of mysterious and chronic illnesses.

If I sound like a brain nerd here, that’s what happens when a person is set free from the IV room to lie down in springy green pastures and take a seat at the lovely, full table her Good Shepherd has prepared for her. Looking back toward the IV room, I’m eager to tell friends still trapped in winter all about my new view.

You may recall I consider making connections my thing. So I’m grateful my story supplied opportunities to connect food with thought, science with Scripture, and scared and suffering people with hope and relief. Those connections are the best of the good things yielded. Things that point to the Power who brings good from every hard story this broken world can throw at us.

I created a list of resources during my journey back to health and make it available to anyone who asks. But I’ve long wished I could point the chronically and mysteriously ill to one well-organized scientific program built on the biblical principles I dug up for myself along the way. Principles like being transformed by the renewal of the mind¹ and letting the mind dwell on whatever is good, pure, honorable, and praiseworthy.² Principles like demolishing strongholds by taking every thought captive for obedience to Christ.³

I’m writing to you today because last month, I made one more good connection. I found the biblically based, brain-retraining program I’d been seeking!

If my hard story sounds a bit like yours or that of someone you know, I encourage you to click on that link and explore.

This encouragement may feel like a Narnian invitation to a mystery, but if you have enough Lucy-like courage or curiosity to step into the wardrobe, I believe you’ll find good adventure and a few kind friends at the back end of that effort to venture in. Please count me as one of those friends. I invite you to pass my story on to others, comment below, send me an email. I don’t have all the answers, but I would love to pray for you. May you be blessed to discover good things in your own hard stories.

1. Romans 12:2
2. Philippians 4:8
3. 2 Corinthians 10:5

The post The Good Thing about Hard Stories appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

How are you feeling about the world today? I don’t mean the baby-quail-trailing-around-your-backyard, blue-sky, branches-dancing-in-the-breeze world. I’m talking about the peopled world. Your peopled world.

The authors you read, the singers you listen to, the influencers you follow, the leaders you voted for (or didn’t vote for).

Your co-workers, church family, neighbors, friends, friends of friends.

The people you live with or used to live with, and the more distant ones you reunite with from time to time.

How is that world going for you?

I ask because, in my peopled world, I’ve noticed a lot of conflict buzzing around lately. A lot of harsh and hopeless words. Friendship-splitting, marriage-ending, church-leaving words. People falling short, turning away, shutting down.

And these are people who love God and bear the name of Christ. People who, it seems, should be able to work through and forgive misunderstandings. Work through to peace and reconciliation. People who are not strangers to these words from Colossians 3—

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts since as members of one body you are called to peace.

It sounds good, but it can be oh-so hard to do.

This kind of escalating conflict has happened to all of us, hasn’t it? Don’t we all bear the scars of torn-away relationships? Don’t we all have a sad story or two about a Christian friend, co-worker, or church acquaintance who is no longer someone we would choose to eat lunch with? We can get to the point where we don’t even want to think about them at all.

Though, sometimes, we suspect we maybe should pray for them. (It’s hard to read our Bibles and not suspect that. Every once in a while, at least.)

But even to pray for that person feels pointless. And risky. Feels like a pain-point of connection that will only keep us caring. Keep us hurting.

Anger is easier than prayer sometimes.

And that also goes for those who aren’t so close to us. We all know stories of pastors, speakers, authors, actors, and singers who slipped up or gave up or in some other way failed to live up to the hopes and expectations of their admiring fans.

Those who once inspired and encouraged us fall hard, sometimes. You can probably think of one or two right now with a sad sort of pain in your chest. I know I can. It’s the kind of fall that takes with it all the good hope and encouragement we once found through the things that person said, sang, or did.

So, what I really want to know is this. Do you pray for them?

Because, when your heart is in a tangle, as nice, and right, and Christian as it sounds to pray for the ones who tangled it, I find it’s often the last thing most of us want to do. The last thing anyone wants to be told they should do.

This isn’t my usual kind of blog post, I know. You may wonder where I’m going with this. I usually focus on stories, right?

Well, here’s where I’m going.

We live in stories.

Every one of us.

Family stories. Work stories. Salvation stories. Political stories. Marriage and friendship stories. Tragedy and recovery stories. And some of those turn into Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and Twitter stories.

And however things may look, there is always more to the story.

I believe prayer is a powerful way of entering the stories of others. A thing that, even if it doesn’t change the way the story goes, can most certainly change the way we perceive the story and those who are living in it. And that in itself is a change.

It’s a way of stopping and noticing stories everywhere and saying, “However things may look, this present moment is not the whole story nor the end of it.” I find it’s a way of aligning with the Writer of all stories. A way of playing a part in the furthering of His will and His Kingdom even now. Not by judging, complaining, fearing or manipulating, but by prayers that teach me to watch with interest and hope, and plant in me a growing willingness to see things from a heavenly perspective.

I believe it’s important for God’s people to pray for those who are in positions to influence others. I’m not alone in that. I’ve heard more than one speaker encourage Christian writers like me to prioritize building a prayer team over building a platform because, whether a person serves many or few, there’s an enemy who prowls around like a roaring lion.

The most talented singers, speakers, actors, writers, preachers, and teachers can and do inspire dangerous levels of admiration that no human can live up to. So, even though your favorites might look like they have it all together, that could crash in a flash of overtired rudeness or misdirected friendliness. All the good those people are doing today could be dismantled by family drama or sudden success and the sneaky tendrils of pride that goeth before a fall.

Perhaps, as you read this, you are thinking of your pastor or Ann Voskamp or Amy Grant or the woman who runs the crisis pregnancy center or a teacher in the Christian school or Co-op your child or grandchild attends. Or perhaps, you are in a position of Christian influence or leadership yourself and God is stirring your heart to the idea that you should maybe ask a few folks to form a prayer team for you.

If you do have someone in mind, I’d like to encourage you to contact them to see if they have a prayer team you can join. And if they don’t, you could perhaps offer start a prayer team for them.

If you aren’t sure how to pray for a person of influence, here’s a prayer I found and adapted as a lovely way to lift someone and their ministry up to God:

Almighty and Eternal God, so draw (name’s) heart to you, so guide her mind, so fill her imagination, so control her will that she may be wholly Yours–utterly dedicated to You. Then use her, I pray, by Your will, and always for Your glory and the welfare of Your people.

I hope we are all faithful to pray for those who live with us and church with us and cross our paths in other ways. But I think it is right that we should also do the battling work of prayer that serves as Aaron and Hur did when holding up the arms of Moses during battle. (Exodus 17:8-13)

And if God does put someone specific on your heart to do this for, or moves you to form a prayer team for your own work, would you mind mentioning that in the comments? I think it would be a wonderful encouragement to many (including me).

The post The Unfancy Power of Prayer appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.

• What if you’re doing all this work for just one reader?

• Would you do all of these things for just one person whose life and heart will be nourished by this story you’re writing?

• Will you do it for just one person even if she doesn’t read your book until after you die?  Would you, will you even then?

Honestly, besides feeling I might have landed in a Dr Seuss story, I was at that moment deep in the waters of overwhelm from conference classes that opened this hopeful writer’s eyes to exactly how long and arduous the road from idea to bookshelf was bound to be.

My answer didn’t come easy.

But, when it’s God asking the hard questions (and since I am His actual property) I know the only answer is yes.

And knowing that, why would anyone risk filling the time between question and answer with a bath in the stormy sea and an uncomfortable ride to shore? (Right, Jonah?)

Still, though I did say yes that day, the questions haven’t stopped. More questions keep coming and coming even now. Only they have a different quality to them.

Instead of,

How can I convince an agent to take me on?

and,

What is the largest group of readers I could thrill with my book?,

I entertain questions like,

Who is she, this mysterious reader?

What do I need to do to reach her?

and,

How can I be faithful to keep writing the words her heart needs if she’s the only one who will ever want or need them?

In pondering that question, Who is she?, I’ve come to see her age or location or career or hobbies don’t really matter all that much. Of course, she will have such things. Everyone fits in the demographic somewhere, right? She will be young or old, rich or poor, short or tall. These things, I don’t know.

The more important thing for me to understand is her interior landscape.

In an effort to do that, I put together a sort of Missing Person’s description. A way to get to know and understand this someone I may never meet.

And as a step toward figuring out all the things I might need to do to reach her, I’m sharing my Missing Person description with you.

Because she might just possibly be someone you know.

She could be your mother or sister or co-worker.

She could be the new woman at church you’ve yet to say hello to, or your best friend.

She may, in fact, be you.

So, if you find her, would you please point her in my direction? I’m making something just for her.

Do You Know This Woman?

She once perched at the edge of her pew and reveled in the idea of the thing. She was wooed by the romance and imagined her fully surrendered life as this shining work of art. Then she stood at the edge of the abyss. She stood at that “What if I jump and God isn’t there?” place and jumped scared. She jumped and discovered the wild glory and wonder of the bold, true life she had imagined, and the lonely, dry corners of wrung-out, heart-breaking silence she had not.

Even so, on her best and bravest days, she revels (a bit more quietly) in the romance of being God’s possession—To do with. as. He. will.

She is a mess of contradictions. She is weak and stubbornly tenacious, an optimistic pessimist, a shy performer, an authentic phony, a brave chicken. She is a woman grown bold in her faith, still taunted by anxiety—and, in some black seasons, depression. She is a church girl who knows the bolstering companionship of God’s loyal, caring people and the devastation of being left to struggle on, alone, at the far end of the pew. She is the scarred friend you go to for deep talk and dizzy laughter into the wee hours. The one who remembers the just-right words of God and blushes to hunt for the address.

And right now, she’s a worn-out servant longing for a quiet space just to sink her roots deep in the soil of God’s love.

To this woman, by way of words, I offer relief. A break. Fresh water for those thirsty roots. Space to breathe. Room to re-leaf her feeble sheltering limbs for God’s next too-big-for-her assignment. To this woman I offer a place to ponder and pray, and a people to walk with in her gloriously messy, surrendered life.

The post Have You Seen This Woman? appeared first on Jody Evans, Author.