And in just a few weeks, we’ll be celebrating another senior—our oldest son. 🎓

My handsome high school grad.

Lately, I’ve found myself mentally moving from one thing to the next, checking off a box and immediately tackling another.

And did I mention I got my first driving ticket a few weeks ago? (Yes… at 45.) So now I’m spending some of my free time in defensive driving courses. 😅

This time of year is always a busy stretch as a full-time working, part-time homeschooling mom. I’m not trying to win any awards for being the busiest, but sometimes it does feel like I’m punching a time clock—coming and going.

But this year feels a little softer.

For the 45th time welcoming the beautiful, busy month of May, I’m learning—slowly—to stay present. To lean into the moments. To notice what I’m feeling, what I’m looking forward to, what I’m actually enjoying…

Not just what I’m doing (or what I need to do next).

And in the middle of all of it, here’s what’s been bringing me joy lately…

📖 What I’m reading

• “It Rained the Day He Left”
  A heartfelt Substack post written by my friend Kris. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to release your child into military service… 🇺🇸

✨ What I’m loving

• Shimmer Eyeshadow Trio
  These silky eyeshadow sticks glide on easily and are travel-friendly and water-resistant. I’m always up for a bit of shimmer.

🌿 What I’m learning

• I’m learning to give myself permission to enjoy the good, simple things—rest, food, comfort, being loved, and loving in return… and to release what keeps me anxious and stuck.

📬 If you missed it . . .

• “A Gentle Reminder That God is Kind”

  A short, devotional read to remind you: God is not distant. And He is not disappointed in you. Read now.

Have a beautiful weekend, sweet friend! And happy May.

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

If you’re like me, you may be stepping into a new season—new routines, new responsibilities, maybe even new roles.

Or maybe you're in a season that hasn’t changed in a long time—and you’re starting to wonder if it ever will.

Wherever this finds you today, may it serve as a soft, soul-level reminder:

God is kind.

Not just in theory. Not just when you’re at your best. But always—especially when you’re tired, stuck, grieving, or starting over.

In legalistic or shame-shaped systems, we often internalize the idea that God is distant or disappointed.

But the God of Scripture—the One who knows you fully and loves you anyway—is rich in kindness.

Let these words wash over you:

"But—When God our Savior revealed His kindness and love, He saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of His mercy..."
— Titus 3:4-5 (NLT)

"How priceless your faithful love is, God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings."
— Psalm 36:7 (CSB)

"Do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?"
— Romans 2:4 (ESV)

"Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you."
— Isaiah 54:10 (NIV)

"As high as heaven is over the earth, so strong is his love to those who fear him."
— Psalm 103:11 (The Message)

Let this be the week you pause—not to strive harder, but to soak in the mercy of a Father who doesn’t rush us through healing, who doesn't demand perfection, and who never withholds compassion.

You are loved.

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

Even now, that sentence feels surreal to write.

I’m not sure what I expected to feel in the weeks leading up to this moment—
excitement, maybe.

Gratitude.
Anticipation.

But not this.

Subscribe now

I didn’t expect to relive some of the hardest parts of my story:

• Anxiety.

• Insecurity.

• Fear that kept me awake at 2 a.m., staring at the ceiling and questioning everything.

God chose this season—of all seasons—to dig His spade of Truth deep into the soil of my soul. And not gently.

👉 I wrote about it earlier this week in It Wasn’t the Roses That Were Failing.

I’m no stranger to imposter syndrome, but the struggle has been deeply real lately.

When Old Wounds Reopen

I told God something I didn’t even realize I’d been holding onto:

I wouldn’t have dreamed of joining a writing team—of sharing my story so honestly—if I had known I’d be reliving parts of it again more than a decade later.

I thought I was writing from a place of healing . . . only to feel the gut punch of one of my deepest wounds reopening almost overnight—just days after I submitted my final manuscript.

For weeks, I wrestled with that tension.

Until God gently interrupted my spiral with a simple reminder:

“You’ll always be living your story of healing, Kristy. That’s what will speak to others who are still living theirs.”

Subscribe now

Showing Up Anyway

So this weekend, I’m packing my bags and heading to the Hope Bookstore in North Carolina to launch Hope in the Waiting with nine other incredible women.

And I’m not showing up as someone who has it all figured out.

I’m showing up as a woman still in the middle of it—still growing, still healing, still learning what it actually looks like to find hope in the messy, in-between seasons.

An Invitation to Be Part of the Story

Maybe you’ll find it a little ironic that my chapter is titled “Grace for the Slow Healer.”

Because that’s the grace I love to write about . . . and the one I so often forget to live.

I used to think I needed to be “fully healed” to share my story.

Now I see—this is the story.

If you’re in a season of waiting, wrestling, or wondering if God is still at work, this book is for you.

Hope in the Waiting officially launches Tuesday, April 21, but it’s available now on Amazon.

If you’d like to support this launch in a simple but meaningful way,
you can share about the book on social media on launch day—April 21. It truly makes a difference.

And if you’d like to read it for yourself, I would be so honored for you to grab a copy.

What Early Readers Are Saying

Thank you for being part of this journey with me.

I’m so grateful for you!

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

I’m a wife and mom, chaplain and copywriter.

I write for Christian women who are learning to love Jesus without performing for Him—and to live from grace instead of striving.

If you’re in an in-between season, you’ll feel at home here.

I share reflections regularly here and daily over on Instagram and Facebook.

Subscribe now

What I Write About

I write about grace-shaped faith and wholehearted femininity—and the messy in-between… what it looks like to follow Jesus without performing and become whole along the way.

A Little More About Me

I’m a lifelong evangelical from a long line of vocational ministers—shaped by both the beauty and the bruising of church life.

Along the way, I’ve walked through depression, anxiety, ministry wounds, and deep healing. ❤️‍🩹

Today, I live with my husband Jeremy in a 1920s farmhouse in North Texas, where we homeschool our kids, serve as hospice chaplains, and hold onto slow evenings, walks, and date nights.

My writing has been featured at places like (in)courage, NEWIM, inside the inboxes of women just like you—and mostly recently in the devotional Hope in the Waiting. (eek!)

Start Here

If you’re new, these are a few pieces readers come back to:

• How to Manage Emotional Triggers

• 7 Lies Christian Women Believe Because of Church Legalism

• Rest Was Never Meant to Be the Last Thing

• Healing from Legalism: The Testimony They Didn’t Want to Hear

Let’s Stay Connected

I send a weekly Weekend Reads email—sharing what I’m reading, loving, and learning, along with reflections for the in-between seasons of life.

Subscribe to receive these in your inbox, plus new posts—and I’ll send you The Grace Reset as a thank-you.

You can also find me:

• Instagram & Facebook: @KristyHowardWrites

• A private FB group: The Honest Pastor’s Wife (for women in ministry)

Drop me a comment and introduce yourself—I’m so glad you’re here!

Veritas et gratia,

Kristy 💐

But I’ll start there.

Jeremy and I have been trying to grow roses in our flower beds for years.

And for years, nothing grew. We watered. We fertilized. We replanted more than once. And every time, the same result: brittle stems, shrinking leaves, and eventually, nothing.

For a long time, I assumed we just weren’t doing enough. More water. Better fertilizer. Try again.

But last spring, I did something I’d never done before. I tested the soil.

And just like that, everything made sense.

The pH in our North Texas dirt was completely off. For years, this same soil had produced healthy, beautiful plants with very little effort from us.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted without us realizing it. What had once supported growth was now working against it.

The Invisible Work

So we stopped trying to grow anything. That part was harder than I expected!

Instead, we focused on the soil. We didn’t tear everything up or start over from scratch. We just began the slow, unremarkable work of restoring what couldn’t be seen: adjusting, testing, waiting.

Month after month, nothing changed—at least not where we could see it. Eventually, Jeremy dug up the last of the dying rose bushes. And for a while, our flower beds looked like a failure. Empty, unproductive, completely dead.

But underneath the surface, something was shifting.

A few weeks ago, Jeremy tested the soil again. “The pH is perfect,” he said, smiling.

So we tried again. And this time, the roses took off.

Every morning, we wake up to new growth. Soft green leaves reaching upward. Clusters of frilly, magenta blooms opening in the early spring light.

It looks like it happened overnight.

It didn’t.

The Turning

Like I said, this story isn’t about roses.

Lately, I’ve felt something similar happening in my own life. Like God has been turning over the soil in my heart.

Not gently.

More like a spade cutting deep—exposing things I didn’t realize had been there for years.

Soil that had been neglected.
Under-nourished.
Quietly poisoning the very growth I had been praying for.

The Realization

I’ve spent a lot of my life trying harder. Trying to be better. To fix things. To grow things.

And when things didn’t change, I assumed the problem was me not doing enough. Not being enough. Not trying hard enough.

But what if the problem wasn’t effort?

What if the soil was off?

There are parts of my life I’ve quietly given up on before. Not all at once—but slowly, over time. Because nothing seemed to grow there.

And yet, even in seasons that feel still, Scripture reminds us: “I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?” (Isaiah 43:19).

Not always visible and not always immediate. But already in motion.

The Truth

Growth doesn’t start where you think it does.

It doesn’t start with effort. Or discipline. Or trying harder. (Read that line again!)

It starts beneath the surface.

And if the soil is wrong, no amount of effort will make something thrive.

But when the soil is right, growth comes naturally. Steadily. Inevitably.

So if something in your life isn’t growing, maybe it’s not because you’re failing. Maybe it’s because God is doing something deeper first.

Maybe He’s restoring the soil.

If You’re in a Season Like This

Sometimes the hardest part of these seasons is that they don’t look like progress.
They feel quiet, invisible, even discouraging.

I’ve learned that these are often the seasons where God is doing something I can’t yet see.

Here are a few clues that you might be in one too:

• You’re putting in effort, but seeing little to no visible results

• Things feel stripped back, quieter, or even regressing

• Old beliefs, wounds, or patterns are being exposed

• You feel stretched internally more than you see change externally

• God feels present, but He’s not producing the outcomes you expected

These are not signs that something is wrong.
They may be signs that something deep is being restored.

What This Season Might Be Asking of You

So what do you do when you find yourself here?

Not everything in you needs to strive. Some things need to be surrendered.

• Ask God: What in me are You restoring right now?

• Stop trying to force visible growth and pay attention to what’s shifting beneath the surface

• Stay consistent in small, faithful steps, even when nothing looks different yet

• Trust that unseen work is still real work

Bottom line: When you find yourself in a season where nothing seems to be growing, don’t be too quick to call it failure.

God may be working in ways you can’t yet see.
Breaking up what has hardened.
Restoring what has been depleted.

Because He doesn’t just grow things. He prepares the ground they grow in so the growth can last.

And when He’s finished, what once felt impossible will begin to bloom. 🙌🏻

Veritas et Gratia,
Kristy 💐

P.S. This season of “waiting” and unseen growth is something I’ve been sitting with deeply. I recently wrote a chapter on it in an upcoming devotional, Hope in the Waiting. I’ll be sharing more soon—including an opportunity to join the launch team. I’d love for you to be part of it. 📖

Have you ever known for sure you were supposed to do something, and you just didn’t do it?

It might have even felt like you couldn’t do it, for reasons you couldn’t name.

That happened to me when I was in my early 20s.

I remember sitting in a hospital lobby in East Texas, and looking across the room to see a woman on a pay phone. She was weeping, and something inside my heart knew I was supposed to get up, walk across the room, and ask if I could help her.

Instead of getting up, I sat frozen in my seat. It was like I could not get up.

Looking back, there were a million reasons why I didn’t get up, but it was mainly fear. It was a disbelief about who I was, what I was called to do, what I was capable of doing.

I remember watching her walk out of that lobby, thinking, I know I was supposed to get up and talk to her.

I’ve thought about this day with regret for many years.

Fast Forward 20-Something Years

I am a hospice chaplain.

A few weeks ago, I was in a facility visiting patients and I saw a woman coming down the hall weeping.

This time, without even stopping to think, I felt myself moving toward her.

I held out my hands toward her and said, “Ma’am, I’m a chaplain. I see that you’re crying, can I help?”

Through her tears, she told me that her sister was dying and asked me to go and pray with her. I walked to the room, met several other sisters, and spent some time praying with and just being with this family.

Honestly, it felt like a normal day in the life of a hospice chaplain.

But later in the day, the memory of younger me in that hospital lobby came to my mind. God gently reminded me of how much I’ve changed.

This time, I wasn’t frozen; thinking; ruminating; self doubting. I just moved forward toward a need, and let God take care of the details.

I can tell you today that living out my calling is so freeing. It is meaningful. And as I pondered this, I had to lift my voice in a prayer of gratitude: Thank you God for changing me!

I’m so grateful He didn’t leave me in that stuck space—that place of fear that kept me from doing what I was created to do for many years.

Living Bold and Free

This morning in my team devotion, I shared this story along with a Scripture:

These words took on a whole new meaning for me this morning as I thought about where I’ve been, where I’m at, and what I feel like God is calling me to in this season.

This is your Grace Note for today:
You are called to live free and bold before God.
You can silence debilitating self criticism.

Sometime today, look up I John 3:18- 21 in The Message translation, and sit with it for just a bit. If you want to take it a step further, grab your journal and ask yourself:

• Where is God calling you to live more bold and free?

• Are you allowing His grace-full truth to shut down debilitating self-criticism?
  

Hit reply and let me know your thoughts.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

P.S. This post is transcribed from my YouTube post. Watch that video here (and subscribe!)

This morning, I’m writing from my dining room table, fogged windows framing a grey, wintry world outside. I’m wrapped in a blanket, laptop open, getting the final edits in on my chapter for the Hope*Writers collaborative book. It’s due for submission in just a few days.

Last week, I asked if you’d read an early draft. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the outpouring of encouragement and thoughtful reflections you sent in?

It undid me, in the best way.

Here’s just a glimpse of what some of you shared:

“I love how you were very real and vulnerable about your struggles. I think that will really speak to women who are battling anxiety.”

“Thank you for being so vulnerable and willing to share this. I found that it really resonated with me.”

“It is very relatable! Again, thank you for your bravery and honesty.”

“Thank you so much, you’re brave to be that honest.”

“I wept as I read.”

“I could totally relate. What a sense of relief.”

“There were several moments of, ‘Me too!’ It felt good to have my own issues acknowledged, and then followed up with encouragement and backed up by God’s word.”

Your words reminded me of something I’ve been holding in my heart lately: “Heal out loud so that others don’t have to suffer in silence.” Maybe that’s part of my calling as a writer.

I even wrote a prayer for the woman who has suffered in silence. If you missed it on the blog this week, you can read it here:
👉 A Prayer for the Christian Woman Who Has Suffered in Silence

Thank you again for reading, for responding, and for walking this journey with me. I’ve got a list of lovely friends to reply to by email, and I’m soaking in every word as I finish up these edits this weekend.

If you’re iced or snowed in like we are, I hope you stay warm and safe.

With so much gratitude,
Kristy 💐

Dear Heavenly Father,

Today I’m praying for my sister who has suffered in silence.

She knows she’s blessed, so she daily dismisses her own pain.

Looking on, everything seems okay.
No one would know.
And they don’t know.

About today’s anxiety.
Yesterday’s grief.
Last year’s guilt.
Tomorrow’s fears.

Sometimes, even she questions her own experience.
Gaslights herself.
And some days, it’s easier to cope that way.

But the silence is quietly killing her.
Because invisible pain can still be fatal.
Like an emotional cancer no one knows about or talks about or does anything about.

Silently, it eats away everything that’s good and beautiful and life-giving inside of her.

Today, I pray for her to have the courage to say it out loud.
Write it down.
Look herself in the mirror and state the truth.

I pray for an advocate to interrupt the silence.
If she can’t find her voice, let someone else’s voice speak to her and for her.

Give her courage to not shy away when you pull back the curtain and reveal the pain. Let her meet it, face-to-face and eye-to-eye—knowing You’ve got her back.

Provide a soft place to land in the breaking.
Send loving hands and grace-shaped tools for the remaking.

Remind her that You “will compensate you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten” (Joel 2:24, ESV) and that You’re “doing a new thing” (Isaiah 43:9, ESV).

Center her heart in Your truth.
Bathe her tired mind with your renewing grace.

Don’t let my sister forget that You are the God who urged Your people to,

Assure her that’s she so much stronger than she thinks.
And that when her strength fails, You will keep showing up.

Help her to imagine new beginnings.
Live out new habits.
Believe new narratives.

Let past failures meet with present favor.
Let’s hear the sound of laughter in the halls of her home and heart again.
It’s time for super-natural hope to greet earthly grief.

God of Angel Armies, remind her that the ultimate battle is already won.
And that means she will win this war, too.

I pray this in the mighty name of Jesus Christ, our Savior—
Amen.

As a reader of Friday Reads, you’re part of the heartbeat behind my writing.

This week, I’m excited (and a bit nervous) to share something deeply personal—a first draft of a chapter I’ve written for a new collaborative book with Hope*Books.

Before I send it to the editing team at the end of the month, I’d love your honest feedback.

If you’re up for reading the chapter and sharing a few thoughts, just hit reply and say, “I’m in.” I’ll send it your way.

I’m hoping to gather feedback by next Friday (Jan. 23), so there’s a short window—but even a few quick reactions would mean so much.

Thanks for being here with me! I can’t wait to hear from you.

With gratitude,
Kristy 💐

For years, I carried guilt like the heavy burden in Pilgrim’s Progress, convinced it was evidence of spiritual devotion.

But the truth is more nuanced, and a lot more freeing.

Guilt is a human emotion. And like all emotions, it can be misunderstood, misused, or manipulated.

5 Myths I Believed About Guilt

Here are some common myths Christians can believe about guilt, and what Scripture actually says about each one.

Myth #1: “Guilt means I did something bad.”

⤷ Truth: Guilt is a human emotion, but not necessarily a spiritual warning.

Yes, sometimes guilt is our conscience signaling something we’ve done wrong. But not every guilt we feel comes from actual sin.

Sometimes we feel guilty because we’ve been conditioned to believe the wrong thing about ourselves, our roles, or our faith.

The Bible describes conscience as part of our human makeup:

“God’s law is not something alien, imposed on us from without, but woven into the very fabric of our creation. There is something deep within [us] that echoes God’s yes and no, right and wrong.” — Romans 2:15 (The Message)

But that same conscience can also misfire when shaped by shame, not truth.

So if you feel guilty and can’t identify an actual wrongdoing, that guilt may be a shadow of something deeper, not a signal from God.

For a long time, I also believed guilt was one of God’s tools, and that He used it to keep me on the right path.

But is that really how a loving Father leads His children?

Myth #2: “God uses guilt to make me do better.”

⤷ Truth: God’s kindness brings us to repentance, not guilt.

Guilt can certainly motivate, but not in a life-giving way.

True transformation comes not through fear or self-loathing, but through the love and kindness of God that draws our heart back to Him.

“So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children.”
— Romans 8:15 (NLT)

And in The Message translation, Paul writes:

“There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.”
— I John 4:18 (The Message)

God doesn’t use guilt to make you obey.

He calls you into relationship, and from that place of love, your heart wants to follow Him.

But what about when guilt feels like a spiritual attack? Is that the enemy... or something else?

Myth #3: “The devil makes me feel guilty.”

⤷ Truth: Satan uses condemnation as a weapon, but guilt itself comes from our fallen human nature.

Let’s be clear: the enemy doesn’t have authority over your conscience in the same way God does.

But condemnation—that heavy, persistent voice that says you’re unworthy or beyond grace—is absolutely a tactic of the enemy.

“But now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death.” — Romans 8:1-2 (NLT)

I love the way The Message translation verbalizes this Truth:

“With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ’s being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.” — Romans 8:1-2 (The Message)

Condemnation is a spiritual attack—a heavy, persistent voice that says you’re unworthy or beyond grace. That’s not your conscience; that’s the enemy trying to steal your identity in Christ.

Guilt, on the other hand, is a human emotional response—sometimes rooted in conscience and truth, sometimes distorted by shame.

And sometimes, it’s not the enemy or even your own sin that weighs you down with guilt. It’s the culture or community you’ve been part of, especially religion.

Myth #4: “The church makes me feel guilty.”

⤷ Truth: Shame-shaped religious narratives use guilt, but guilt itself is not God’s design.

This one hits close to home for so many of us—especially women who’ve carried shame-shaped condemnation because of church legalism.

Religious guilt says:

• You’re not spiritual enough.

• You should be doing more.

• If you knew better, you’d behave better.

But the Bible tells a different story:

“Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin?” — Romans 2:4 (NLT)

Kindness, not guilt, is the catalyst for genuine repentance and transformation.

So while the church (and people in the church) can use guilt, that doesn’t make guilt holy or God‑given.

After a while, it’s easy to start thinking all guilt is bad, especially if you’ve been burned by false guilt or shame.

But let’s not forget: not all guilt is unhealthy.

Myth #5: “All guilt is bad.”

⤷ Truth: Not all guilt is unhealthy. There is such a thing as healthy guilt.

Hear me out: guilt isn’t inherently evil. It’s an emotion. Sometimes it’s a God‑given conscience response when we violate a moral law or hurt someone we love.

Healthy guilt says:

• I did something wrong.

• I need to reconcile.

• I need to make it right.

This is normal and part of spiritual and emotional maturity.

But when guilt sticks around long after repentance, or emerges without real wrongdoing, that’s no longer holy conviction. It’s shame.

Also read: “What’s the Difference Between Healthy and Unhealthy Guilt?” (Psychology Today)

Healthy guilt is action-oriented and leads you back into relationship (with God and others).
Unhealthy guilt keeps you “stuck” ruminating, hiding, and isolating (from God and others).

If guilt has confused you, exhausted you, or made you question your worth, you’re not alone. But you’re not stuck, either.

So What Do We Do With Guilt?

Here’s how I’ve learned to think about guilt in light of grace, not shame.

We don’t dismiss it.
We don’t demonize every uncomfortable feeling.
We don’t let shame narrate our identity.

Instead, we learn to:

• Discern whether the guilt reflects actual wrongdoing or false narratives.

• Bring it to Jesus, who doesn’t condemn but heals (John 8:11).

• Recognize when guilt is a useful signal of conscience, and when it’s just a voice rehearsing old shame.

You don’t have to be afraid of guilt. And as a believer, you don’t have to let it destroy your peace or confidence.

A Prayer

Dear Lord, help me recognize when my guilt is a reminder to turn back to You, and when it’s a lie I need to reject. Give me wisdom to hear Your voice over every other narrative in my mind. Help me understand Your heart of grace toward me.

In Jesus’s name I pray,
Amen.

I only knew I was tired:

Tired of asking permission to be a person.

Tired of trying to make everyone happy.

Tired of ignoring my God-given intuition because “obedience” mattered more than anything else.

I didn’t know to call it spiritual codependency.

Or enmeshment. Or loss of agency.

I just knew something didn’t feel right.

Read also: “What is Church Legalism? And How Do I Know If I’ve Been Living Under it?”

When Obedience Looks Like Disappearing

I had been a good girl in a good church. I’d studied the Bible, memorized verses, volunteered, and showed up with a smile—even when I was breaking inside.

But somewhere along the way, I’d confused “being a good Christian” with becoming invisible.

I thought I was being faithful by denying myself.

But the truth was, I’d never really developed a healthy, Spirit-formed sense of self to deny.

Immaturity Isn’t Your Identity

I remember years ago, reading something by Sally Clarkson that stopped me in my tracks.

She said many Christians are told to “deny yourself,” but no one ever helped them develop a self in the first place.

And that’s not maturity. It’s dysfunction disguised as discipleship.

Also read: “7 Lies Women Believe Because of Church Legalism”

The apostle Paul spoke to this when he wrote:

]I get it now.

Denying yourself is mature when it flows from a place of identity; when you know who you are in Christ, and your obedience is rooted in love—not fear.

But when you live without identity, without agency, without healthy boundaries or personhood—what you call “discipleship” might just be spiritual immaturity wrapped in people-pleasing.

I don’t say that to shame us. I say it because I lived it.

But thank God, there’s a way forward.

I spent years doing the “right things” but felt emotionally stuck and spiritually burned out.

If you feel like that’s you too, there are three small steps you can take toward self-leadership today.

Three Gentle Steps Toward Self-Leadership

1. Start noticing. Pay attention to what drains your energy or causes internal tension. These are cues from your body and spirit that something’s out of alignment. Before you try to “fix it,” get curious about it.

2. Practice agency. Begin making small decisions that honor both your faith and your personhood. Whether it’s saying no to a church obligation or taking a walk instead of answering your phone, you’re allowed to choose from a place of wisdom and freedom.

3. Nurture your inner life. Read books that challenge you to grow in grace. Take walks. Pray honestly. Journal. Build inner strength through spiritual and emotional rhythms that ground you.

You’re Safe to Grow

You’re safe to grow, my friend. God delights in every small, faithful step you take toward Him.

If you need a gentle tool to help you get started, I created something for you:

✨ “The Grace Reset”—a reflective tool to help you begin leading yourself from a place of grace-shaped identity rather than guilt.

(You’ll receive it for FREE when you subscribe, plus you’ll get weekly Grace Notes delivered to your inbox.)

We’re not meant to walk this road alone.

I’m honored to walk beside you, one grace-filled step at a time.

Thank you for being here.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

I don’t know where—or who—I’d be if not for good books.

By “good books,” I don’t mean stories penned by Dickens and Tolkein and Alcott and Austen—although those are definitely among my favorite authors.

But I mean the writers who show up as flawed, vulnerable, very”human” humans and bravely show us the way forward as fellow strugglers.

The mentors who don’t pretend to have it all together.

The broken who use their pain to help us heal.

The sinners whose words weave sonnets of grace that land on our souls like a salve.

When I open a page and feel seen, loved, and called to a better way—I know I’ve found a “good book.”

What I Thought Was Truth—Wasn’t

I entered adulthood (more than two decades ago) carrying a lot of “shoulds” and “dos.”

I wasn’t unraveling (yet!), but there were voices in my head.
Voices that I misunderstood to be Truth.
Voices completely devoid of grace.

Over the years, I’ve slowly laid down the heaviness of church legalism and embraced the “easy” and “light” yoke that Jesus offers (Matthew 11:28-30).

But I didn’t outgrow sinful, spiritually elite mindsets by myself.
And for a long time, I didn’t outgrow them inside a faith community—because nearly everyone I was close to had the same mindsets that I did.

I grew and healed and learned better by reading good books.

Books written by Jesus-loving strugglers who had learned to trade religious guilt for extravagant grace.

Why Good Books Help When Faith Feels Heavy

If you are walking into this season with inner heaviness that you can’t name, and definitely can’t shed—become friends with good books.

Stop ruminating.
Stop ignoring.
Stop running from guilt and start running toward grace.

Yes, you will likely have to turn around and face the music in order to silence it.
Yes, you will have to acknowledge the pain before it begins to heal.
Yes, you will have to figure out where the voices of guilt came from so you can replace them with Truth.

Good books—written by Jesus-lovers who understand this grace-shaped Gospel—can help guide you forward.

Start Here: Let a Good Book Guide You

If you need a few recommendations, check out my “10 Books to Read This Year (for Grace, Growth, and Boundaries)” post.

These are the books on my reading (or re-reading) list for 2026.

I could also call this list “10 Books to Read This Year (to Heal from Guilt, Control, and Co-dependency). Because that’s pretty much the opposite of grace, growth, and healthy boundaries.

And that—guilt, control, and co-dependency— was where I was at in my 20s when I first started reaching for “good books.”

Mercifully, I found them. And I haven’t stopped reading.

Tell Me Yours: What Book Shifted Your Faith?

What about you?

Have you ever encountered a book that shifted your faith paradigm in a meaningful way?

What “good books” help you live more fully as a confident, healthy Christian woman (or gentlemen, if you’re a guy)?

Hit reply or drop me a comment… I’d love to hear.

10 Books to Read This Year: 2026 Edition

Whether you’re navigating ministry, motherhood, emotional recovery, or personal growth—I’m sharing this list with you in mind.

I’d love to know if you’re reading (or re-reading) any of these books this year, too.

1. Start with Your People – Brian Dixon

I’m reading Start with Your People, by Brian Dixon, to re-center how I show up in my relationships—at home, work, and in our faith community.

2. Never Go Back – Dr. Henry Cloud

I chose Never Go Back because I’ve outgrown some patterns, but I need language and structure to keep moving forward. (I read a lot by Dr. Cloud, as you’ll see in this list.)

3. It’s Not You – Dr. Ramani Durvasula

It’s Not You is on my list this year because I need more clarity around emotional patterns I’ve experienced but realized I haven’t fully unpacked. (Listen to this podcast with Mel Robbins to learn more about the author and the book.)

4. Your Desired Future – Dr. Henry Cloud

This one by Dr. Cloud feels like the right book for this season. I want to set intentional direction for where I’m going, not just react to what’s happened. (Pre-order Your Desired Future now for the May book release.)

5. A Love Worth Giving: Living in the Overflow of God’s Love – Max Lucado

My husband started reading this book recently and I found myself picking it up, too. A Love Worth Giving is a definite must-read if you struggle with feeling like you have to earn God’s love.

6. Well Lived: Shaping a Legacy of Gratitude and Grace – Sally Clarkson

I’m looking forward to reading Sally’s newest book, Well Lived: Shaping a Legacy of Gratitude and Grace. Sally’s message speaks directly to my desire as a Christian woman.

7. The Let Them Theory – Mel Robbins (re-read)

This was one of my top reads in 2025. The Let Them Theory is a liberating mindset shift and major reset for emotional freedom. I can’t wait to dive in again!

8. To Know Him – Dr. Henry Cloud (currently reading)

I just started this 90-day devotional, To Know Him, and am getting so much out of it already. I have a feeling I’ll read this more than once over the next 12 months.

9. Boundaries in Marriage – Dr. Henry Cloud (re-read)

Jeremy and I have been through a lot the past few years, and this book feels like a timely read for 2026. Check out Boundaries in Marriage on Amazon.

10. Boundaries with Teens – Dr. Henry Cloud (re-read)

This book gave me language and structure for when parenting feels hard. I’m still raising three teens (soon to be four), and I’m coming back to Boundaries with Teens this year.

Ready to read together?

I’ll be sharing reflections and real-time takeaways throughout the year, so make sure you’re subscribed to weekly emails and following on Instagram and Facebook!

Subscribe now

If one of these books stands out to you—or if you’re craving a year that’s lighter on guilt and heavier on grace—I’d love to hear from you.

Drop a comment, hit reply, or just bookmark this post. We don’t have to grow alone!

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

Merry Christmas, friend.

As this year comes to a close, I’ve found myself reflecting—on the joy, the stretching, and the quiet formation that happens over time.

This year marked 23 years of marriage for Jeremy and me, and just as many years serving together in vocational ministry. We celebrated weddings and graduations, welcomed our first grandchild, and continued a life shaped by faith, family, and calling.

A lifetime in the American evangelical church brings both beauty and bruising. It offers purpose and community—and it also asks something of us. Eventually, we all face the choice between bitterness and growth.

In recent years, I’ve sensed a deep shift taking place. People are naming things they once buried. Women are disentangling fear from faith and choosing honesty over performance.

It’s uncomfortable for some, but to me, it feels like a necessary kind of revival.

My own path has been marked by legalism, people-pleasing, trauma, and healing. And it’s why I write what I write now—to help Christian women silence shame-shaped religious narratives so they can love, live, and lead from grace rather than guilt.

Thank you for being here. Your presence truly matters to me.

As the year turns, I’ll continue writing about faith without fear, leadership without shame, and the grace that meets us in real life—right where we are.

Merry Christmas!
Here’s to another grace-shaped year.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

She lights the fourth candle with a heart that’s tender and tired.

Because love—real, holy, healing love—can feel like both a comfort

and a cost.

This week reminds her of what love really is.

Not polished. Not performance.

But presence.

Sacrifice.

God-with-us.

Love is the backbone of every moment she pours herself into.

But sometimes, she forgets she’s allowed to receive it too.

Advent love says:

You don’t have to earn Me.

You don’t have to fix yourself to be worthy of gentleness.

You are already held.

This is how we wait:

By letting love reach the parts of us still wrapped in shame, fear,

or fatigue.

By letting ourselves be nurtured, not just needed.

By receiving what we so often give away.

Love came down at Christmas.

But it comes to you now, too—right in the middle of your doubt,

your mess, your longing.

You are not just God’s servant.

You are His Beloved.

“We love because He first loved us.”

—1 John 4:19

Reflection:

✨Where do you still feel like you need to “get it together” to be loved?

What might shift if you let His love find you right there?

Scripture Reading:

Luke 2:1–20—The birth of Jesus and the love that entered our world

Dear Friend,

Thank you for following along during this Advent series.

For full access to the devotional, This Is How We Wait, subscribe below and check your inbox.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

I just came in from a trek out in the blustery, very-autumnal-feeling December air this morning.

Fall colors have come late in North Texas this year, as they usually do.

Friends from Canada, New York, and Colorado have been posting pics of their snowy woods and neighborhoods for weeks now.

I’m over here reveling in the fiery crowns of our red oaks and basking in the leaf confetti swirling above me on morning jogs.

Not quite the quintessential December Norman Rockwell painted in my imagination as a child.

But this season is still beautifully a gift. Even if it’s wrapped in orange and red instead of a diamond snowfall.

Always a Season Behind

This isn’t easy for me to admit, but most of the seasons of my life have felt like they arrived later than everyone else’s.

Like I’m always a season behind, and can never figure out why I’m raking leaves while everyone else is building snow forts.

And I generally enjoy raking leaves—until I realize that it’s snowing everywhere else.

Life is like that. Seasons vary around the globe just as they do in our personal lives.

But in real life, I can’t pack up and escape the season I’m in for a vacation in the snowy woods—just because I’m tired of the leaves.

I have to stay here and tramp through them every day, until the season changes.

And the seasons do change. Even if I’m never the one posting the snowy woods pics, one day—in a month or so—I’ll wake up and all the fiery leaves will be gone.

Winter will settle in and I’ll begin my own fresh season.

Permission to Enjoy What You Have

But there’s a big chance I will miss the beauty of the one I’m living right now if I’m not willing to get out there and dance in those leaves.

To accept that it’s okay to relish an autumnal December that isn’t quite the Hallmark Christmas kind.

To enjoy the ever-present Texas sunshine and stop pining for the snowy woods that aren’t mine.

I can survive this season or I can enjoy it to the hilt.

Because if four decades have taught me anything, it’s that those who live with joy are those who simply give themselves permission to ENJOY life—just as it is.

So maybe you’re raking leaves while the world is building snow forts.

Maybe your season looks late, or weird, or just not what you pictured.

It’s okay. Truly.

Give yourself permission to enjoy it anyway.

To find wonder in your offbeat December, in your not-yet dreams, in your right-now life.

And when you do, drop me a note or leave a comment.

I’d love to hear what your current season looks like—and how you’re choosing joy in it.

But pardon me for now while I slip back outside for another romp in the leaves...

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

P.S. We’ll wrap up our final Advent reading this Sunday… thank you for following along this season! xo

They grinned and waved from the lobby of our tiny post office, anxiously waiting for me to finish mailing my packages.

“This won’t take long,” I had said as we climbed out of our SUV fifteen minutes earlier.  “Just wait in the lobby while I drop these boxes off.” 

Famous last words.  

As I pulled my eyes away from my boys, the conversation taking place in front of me came into focus. 

The guy in line in front of me—I’m pretty sure he had at least ten packages to mail—had just asked the clerk about her plans for Christmas.  

Big mistake. 

For the next five minutes, she simultaneously scanned packages and expounded upon the many reasons she dreaded the holidays.

“I get one day off, and that just makes the next day twice as busy,” she stated matter-of-factly.  “December twenty-sixth, it’s right back to work-as-usual.”   

She sighed.  

“The older I get, the more I lose the Christmas spirit, you know?”

I shifted my boxes and involuntarily sighed with her. 

For a split second, my inner pessimist was ready to concede that, yes, it’s tough to keep the “Christmas spirit” alive when you’re busy adulting.

But something deep in my heart wouldn’t submit to that thought.

If I believed that the “Christmas spirit” was nothing more than the magical, carefree, and seemingly perfect holidays of my childhood then, yes.

I would say that keeping the “Christmas spirit” as an adult is an exercise in futility. 

But I don’t believe that. 

As much as I love everything magical and carefree about Christmas, I’d feel deeply disappointed if that’s all I had to hold on to in this season of life.

Because, really, there’s not a lot of “carefree” or “perfect” left in the fabric of my life as a busy ministry wife and mom. 

Honestly, my soul craves something deeper than that.

At the risk of over-spiritualizing the holidays, I must confess:

This year, more than ever before, I’ve been realizing that Christmas really is all about worship.

I know, I know.

You’ve probably never even considered adding “worship” to your holiday schedule.

And neither have I.

But the more deeply I ponder this, the less I expect Christmas to be carefree or magical or perfect. 

Because the more I began to grasp that even on the crazy days- 

the ones that feel anything but carefree, magical or perfect- 

even on THOSE days we can choose to worship.

And, yes, worship is so much more than lifting your hands at church or whispering a prayer. 

Worship is simply the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration.  

It is recognizing the worthiness of Christ and relishing the wonder of who He is:

Christ, the almighty King of Kings, who broke into our hopeless world on a mission to provide unthinkable grace and favor with God.

So how can we live with a heart of worship at this busy season? 

Let me share three really simple and practical ways to keep worship at the heart of your Christmas (and throughout every day of the year). 

This isn’t rocket science. 

But it could very well take your heart from a state of overwhelm to wonder.

1) Take Time to Acknowledge Him 

It’s easy to take a look at our secularized culture and curse the way the world has squeezed Christ right out of Christmas. 

But let’s be honest.

As believers we often do the same thing, just in a different way.

How many times have you been all about the form of Christmas (plays, programs, to do lists) and feel very little of the heart of this season (patience, gentleness, peace)?

There’s nothing really second nature about this business of worship, especially in a world that idolizes productivity and busyness. 

Like the stressed-out clerk in the post office, it’s very easy and very natural for us all to feel like we’ve out-lived the wonder of what turned out to be the busiest season of the year.

So we must choose to live intentionally against the grain.

Against the grain of our culture. 

Against the grain of our humanity.

Lord, it’s true: life is so busy right now, and I’m so tired.  But, thankfully, this season isn’t actually about perfection or festivities.  It’s about You, and I choose to celebrate You.  You are good and you are gracious.  Thank you for loving me! 

Worship is simply taking the time to adore Christ. 

To notice His presence and his fingerprints in every little detail of our day and our world. 

The very act of saying, “Lord, this really is all about You” reveals a heart of worship. 

2) Stay Faithful in Both Your Work and Rest 

I believe that faithfulness is an oft-overlooked aspect of worship. 

It’s so easy to forget this when we’re bone weary from the emotional, mental, spiritual or physical load of our responsibilities. 

But faithfulness matters. 

Showing up at work another day, and doing your best.  That matters.

Climbing out of bed in the morning to serve and love your family well.  That matters too.

Facing an increased work load with determination, then giving yourself permission to unwind at the end of another busy day.  God sees it, and it honors his design for your life.

Managing your time, or your family’s time, well at the holidays so that there’s at least a little margin for down time or hitting pause. Did you realize that is also an act of worship?

Working hard honors God, so don’t forget to acknowledge that the next time you feel overwhelmed by the task in front of you. 

Keeping a habit of rest also honors God, so give yourself permission to embrace His gift of Sabbath.

Love Well 

This is probably the easiest part of Christmas to relate to. 

In theory, any way.

After all, Christmas is love. 

Giving gifts. 

Donating to a toy drive, or dropping your extra change into the red Salvation Army bucket. 

But do you know what? 

I find myself struggling with this more than I care to admit. 

Yes, I’m all about buying gifts for the children’s home our church sponsors. 

But I have a hard time being patient with my kids’ messes and needs right now. 

I took the time to write personal notes in over one hundred Christmas cards last week.

But I don’t get excited about giving up some of my personal time if someone needs another piece of my already-full day.

Do you see how easy it is to fall into the grind of doing well, when really God is calling us to a life of loving well? 

What other season could possibly be more about loving well than this holy season of Christmas? 

When Christ stepped into our brokenness, clothed himself with our rags of humanity, and declared that we were worth-

not just dying for-

but living with. 

Did you ever think about that? 

Christmas chose to live among us. 

He didn’t just lay down his life for us and suffer a cruel death. 

He gave us a lifetime. 

He showed us what love looks like, how it lives.

Understanding that overwhelms me. 

It paints a backdrop for my life that changes the way I view everything:

From demanding to do lists, to needy kids and messy bedrooms, to broken people that I sometimes pull away from because I can’t fix them. 

He loved generously so that we would know what it feels like to receive so much more than we deserve. 

Then we can live, love and give from a source much deeper than our limited humanity. 

This is the worshipful heart of Christmas. 

May it beat deeply in your soul this season. 

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

She lights the third candle—a flicker of joy in a tired season.

But joy doesn’t always look like laughter or sparkle.

Sometimes, it’s quieter.

Softer.

Like breath returning to the body after too many days of holding it.

Advent joy is different from holiday cheer.

Cheer is easy to fake.

Joy is something deeper.

It’s what bubbles up when you know you’re loved, even when

nothing is going according to plan.

Joy is the sacred defiance of despair.

It’s singing anyway.

It’s lighting the candle even when your heart feels heavy.

It’s saying, “God is still good,” even when the world is not.

This is how we wait:

With eyes open for the joy tucked into ordinary places.

Not manufactured joy, but noticed joy.

Like the smile of someone who really sees you.

A moment of laughter that surprises you.

A sudden stillness that soothes your spirit.

Joy isn’t the reward for getting everything done.

It’s the grace that shows up in the middle of the mess.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

—Nehemiah 8:10

Reflection:

✨What’s one small moment that made you smile or exhale this week?

Pause and thank God for that joy—it’s not small to Him.

Scripture Reading:

📖 Luke 1:39–56—Mary visits Elizabeth and both rejoice in God’s faithfulness

Dear Friend,

Thank you for following along during this Advent series.

For full access to the devotional, This Is How We Wait, subscribe below and check your inbox.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

She lights the second candle with a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding.

This week, she’s craving something more than answers or resolutions.

She’s craving peace.

But not the tidy, Pinterest-worthy kind.

Not the silence-of-snowflakes or the perfectly clean kitchen.

She needs peace that meets her in the chaos.

Peace that holds her when the text message stings,
when the expectations pile up,
when the family tension simmers just beneath the surface.

She needs peace that doesn’t require her to hold it all together.

Advent peace isn’t about tranquility.

It’s about trust.

It’s about letting go of control—even when everything feels unfinished.

It’s worship, not perfection.

It’s breathing deep in the middle of the mess and whispering,

“I’m not in charge… and I’m safe anyway.”

This is how we wait:

Not by performing calm,

but by practicing peace.

Even if that peace comes in small, stubborn moments:

a quiet prayer before the house wakes,

a short walk without multitasking,

a kind word spoken even when you feel frayed.

Even if peace looks more like surrender than stillness.

“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You…”

—Isaiah 26:3

Reflection:

✨Where are you grasping for control right now?

What would it feel like to hand it back to God, just for today?

Scripture Reading:

📖 Luke 1:26–38—Mary receives the angel’s message and responds with faith

Dear Friend,

Thank you for following along during this Advent series.

For full access to the devotional, This Is How We Wait, subscribe below and check your inbox.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐

She lights the first candle with a shaky breath.

Not because everything feels hopeful—but because hope is how she keeps showing up.

That’s the quiet truth of Advent:

Hope is not a feeling.

It’s a posture.

A sacred refusal to give up.

Advent reminds us that waiting is not wasted time.

It’s where the soul is remade.

It’s where grief and expectancy share the same breath.

It’s where the Spirit whispers, “You’re not forgotten.”

You, dear one, are not forgotten.

Even when your prayers feel unanswered.

Even when you’re so tired of waiting for something to change.

Even when you’re showing up while carrying disappointment you haven’t had time to name.

Hope says: I don’t know how this ends,

but I’m trusting the One who holds today.

This is how we wait.

Not with guilt.

Not with pressure to “do it right.”

But with open hands and permission to long for more.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy

and peace as you trust in him…”

—Romans 15:13

Reflection:

✨What are you still hoping for, even if it feels fragile or unspoken?

Write it down.

Whisper it back to God.

You don’t need a perfect prayer. Just a willing heart.

Scripture Reading:

📖 Luke 1:5–25—Zechariah and Elizabeth’s waiting and the promise of John the Baptist

Dear Friend,

Thank you for following along during this Advent series.

For full access to the devotional, This Is How We Wait, subscribe below and check your inbox.

Veritas et gratia,
Kristy 💐