Amy Boucher Pye

Category: Christian life

Guest Post with Evelyn Bence: Redeeming the Time with Thyme

My very first guest post! I’m thrilled to host the lovely writer and editor Evelyn Bence today, whom I know through the Christian publishing world. She lives in Virginia, where I used to live, though we didn’t know each other well when I lived there. Yet I can picture her in my former stomping grounds, the suburbs of Washington, DC, which makes me smile. Snarled traffic but warm hearts.

Photo: Jason Baker, flickr

Late spring: over coffee I was catching up with a former colleague named David. My news: “I’m just finishing a book manuscript. Fifty-two devotionals or meditations, about table hospitality. The setups are very anecdotal, from early planning and shopping to cooking, conversation, and cleanup. I’ve got forty-two. I’m not sure where I’m going to ‘find’ ten more stories, say nothing of insightful spiritual applications.”

“Fresh herbs,” he said, taking his conversational turn and describing his nightly foray before dinner, out into the yard to snip parsley, basil, rosemary, thyme for the vegetable or salad served up to his family. “The boys”—high school and college-aged—“roll their eyes at me. But I know they appreciate the taste, and, besides, I’m having fun.”

When he dropped me, back home, he recognized and pointed to the greenery in my porch boxes. “Remember the herbs. Parsley. Right there. Write about it.”

I knocked the idea around but couldn’t make it work. The final meditations jelled by other means, other themes.

Fast forward to a cold-weather Wednesday, late morning. An editorial job due on my desktop on Monday hadn’t yet arrived, but surely it would come in any moment now . . . or maybe not. Restless and unfocused, I flitted around the house, not able to settle on a new project or pick up an old, until my eyes rested on a bunch of thyme stems, grown out front, pruned way back, dried in a closet, and now pushed aside on a tabletop. David came to mind and his “remember the herbs.”

“Just sit,” an inner voice said. “Strip the leaves from a few stems.”

The hands-on—tactile—sensation focused me physically. Then the aroma! My spirit settled down. My restless thoughts turned to prayers, including thanks for David and the memory of our herbal conversation. I stayed with fragrant manual task until I had only two piles: barren stems for discard and tiny pointy leaves for my thyme tin.

I calmly checked my computer inbox. The job hadn’t arrived. But I felt as if I’d been graced—by choosing to redeem the time with thyme.

Evelyn Bence is author of Room at My Table: Preparing Heart and Home for Christian Hospitality.

February 6, 2015
A Dream Shopping Trip – An Abundant God

Have you ever gone on a dream shopping trip? Like one of those televised free-for-alls where someone can keep whatever they grab in thirty minutes? Well, I’ve not been on one of those – thankfully, I think, for I can only imagine the specter of my consumerist heart going mad. But a few years ago I got to go on an even better trip to the mall.

“Let’s go shopping!” Lulu said.

“Okay!” I responded, with a surge of joy and nervousness. My friend was a generation older than I, and in a different stratosphere financially. I sensed this wouldn’t be any ordinary shopping trip, but an amazing experience of grace and beauty.

I had recently given birth to our second child and wasn’t feeling good about my body. The weight hadn’t magically melted after my daughter appeared; nor was it shifting in the months that followed. I felt I didn’t deserve the nice clothes Lulu might buy for me – I was lumpy, not svelte. Somehow I believed that gorgeous clothes should only be enjoyed when we are at our goal weight. Not when we’re way over.

But Lulu wanted me to feel beautiful, extra pounds or not. She decided I needed some stunning business suits and dress clothes, with no cost spared. So we camped out in the fitting room of a high-class department store with a special salesperson at our beck and call. This woman dashed from one rack of clothes to another, finding the right sizes of sparkly shirts and well-cut trousers.

As I glimpsed the expensive tags I started to worry. How, I wondered out loud, could she spend so much money on me when I wasn’t slim and trim? Lulu shushed me in a loving but firm manner. “Amy, I want you to look and feel good. Let me do this for you. Besides, when your size changes, you can always find a tailor.”

Grace incarnate. Did I deserve the clothes? No. But do I feel good when wearing them? You bet I do (although for some I now need a tailor). What a gift, this lavish splurge on clothes. What an example of love and acceptance.

I’m still not at the perfect weight, and my daughter is well into her primary school years. But instead of hating my body, I try to remember that God has formed me and created me. He doesn’t want me to look down at myself with despair, but to turn to him in praise and out to other people with love.

He’s always sending his loving words to us, saying that he’s chosen us and not rejected us. That he is with us when we pass through the waters – they will not sweep over us. That we are precious and honored in in his sight.

When I look to the Lord for love and affirmation, I gain a sense of well being – whatever the number on the scale. How about you?

January 16, 2015
Christmas Cookies Galore

Advent is a time of waiting. Advent is a time of baking (for me, at least).

This month’s Woman Alive features my article, “Love on a Plate,” which shares this American’s love of Christmas cookies with a British audience. I’ve already seen photos of some wonderful cookies that readers have made (posted on our Facebook group); love the upside-down gingerbread people that turn into reindeers!

As a bit of background, Christmas cookies remain popular in America, having been introduced by European settlers – German, Dutch, Swedish and Norwegian in particular. Americans without English roots don’t eat Christmas pudding, cake or mince pies; instead we enjoy Christmas cookies and candies.

In the article I promised more cookie recipes. Here you go!

Peanut (or almond) Blossoms

1 ¾ cup (220g) flour

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ cup lard (or butter)

½ cup peanut (or almond) butter

1 egg

2 tablespoons milk

1 teaspoon vanilla

½ cup (100g) sugar

½ cup (100g) brown sugar

1 package of chocolate stars or milk buttons or Hershey’s kisses

Sift together flour, salt, and soda. Cream together butter/lard, peanut butter, egg, milk, vanilla, sugars. Chill. When chilled, shape into balls and roll in sugar. Place on an ungreased baking sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes at 375F/190C/gas mark 5. Remove from oven and press in chocolate.

Oatmeal Toffee (or M&M) cookies

1 cup (250 g) butter

2 cups packed light brown sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoon vanilla

1 ¾ cup flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon salt

3 cups oats

1 ¾ cups toffee bits or M&Ms or raisins or chocolate chips or mixture above

1 cup coconut flakes (optional)

Heat oven to 375F/190C/gas mark 5. Lightly grease cookie sheet (or use magic liners from Lakeland). Beat butter, brown sugar, eggs and vanilla until blended. Add flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt and beat.

Stir in oats and other ingredients as desired. Drop dough by rounded teaspoons onto cookie sheet and bake 8 to 10 minutes.

Lemon-Poppy Seed Cookies

1 cup butter (about 250 g)

1 cup granulated sugar (about 250 g)

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 teaspoon poppy seeds (I use more)

1 teaspoon finely shredded lemon peel

¼ teaspoon salt

2 cups flour

Beat butter for 30 seconds. Add sugar and beat until combined. Beat in egg and vanilla. Then add in poppy seed, lemon peel, salt and flour. Chill for an hour or two.

Shape into 1-inch balls. Cook on ungreased cookie sheet for 8-10 minutes in a 375F/190/gas mark 5 oven.

Frost with lemon juice/icing sugar for an extra pop of lemon. Yum.

Gingerbread People

2¼ cups plain flour

2 teaspoon cinnamon

2 teaspoon ginger

1 teaspoon baking powder*

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon cloves

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

¾ cup of butter (roughly 180g)

½ cup packed light brown sugar

½ cup dark molasses

1 egg

Combine flour through nutmeg. Beat butter and brown sugar in a large bowl until light and fluffy. Beat in molasses and egg. Gradually add flour mixture; beat until well blended. Shape dough into 3 discs. Wrap well in cling film and refrigerate for an hour.

Preheat oven to 350F/180C/gas mark 4-5. Work with one disc at a time. Roll out on floury surface. Cut into gingerbread shapes.

Bake 10-12 minutes. Cool on wire rack.

Ice with butter frosting or icing sugar frosting.

* This refers to American baking powder. I’m told you can substitute ¼ teaspoon baking powder plus ½ teaspoon cream of tartar for every teaspoon of baking powder.

Chocolate Crinkles

3 eggs

½ cups granulated sugar

4 oz (225 g) 70% chocolate, melted

½ cup cooking oil (this seems too much to me)

2 teaspoon baking powder*

2 teaspoon vanilla

2 cups flour

Beat eggs, sugar, chocolate, oil, baking powder and vanilla. Beat in flour. Cover and chill for an hour or two.

Shape dough into balls. Roll in icing sugar. Bake on ungreased cookie sheet for 8 to 10 minutes at 375F/190C/gas mark 5.

* This refers to American baking powder. I’m told you can substitute ¼ teaspoon baking powder plus ½ teaspoon cream of tartar for every teaspoon of baking powder.

Almond Logs (or Bursts)

An adapted recipe from my grandmother, Nellie Wiese Mohni, whose parents moved from Germany to Iowa in the late 1800s.

1 cup (about 250g) of butter

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 teaspoons almond essence

¾ cup (150g) sugar

1 egg

3 cups (375g) flour

1 teaspoon nutmeg

¼ teaspoon salt

Cream the first three ingredients; add sugar and blend in the egg. Stir in the rest of the ingredients. Roll in ½ inch logs about 3 inches long (or however you want to make them; I generally form them into small balls). Bake at 350F/175C for 8-10 minutes on a greased pan (I never grease the pan, but just use those magic liners from Lakeland).

Frosting

1/3 cup (75g) butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 teaspoons almond essence

2 cups (250g) icing sugar (powdered sugar)

2 tablespoons milk

Mix above together; frost when cool and sprinkle top with nutmeg.

Try to share with your loved ones; makes about 36.

Dark Chocolate Truffles

1/3 cup heavy whipping cream

12 oz semisweet chocolate, divided (I use best 70% chocolate – fairly traded!)

2 tablespoon Grand Marnier (or other liqueur such as Amaretto or Kahlua)

Powdered sugar

Cocoa powder (if desired)

Pour cream in a heavy bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil over high heat and immediately reduce heat. Add 6 oz of the chocolate, broken into small pieces. Stir constantly until chocolate is melted. Remove from heat and stir in Grand Marnier. Transfer to a mixing bowl and refrigerate for 2 hours or until firm.

Using a melon baller or teaspoon dipped in hot water, scoop 1 inch balls out of the truffle mixture onto a plate (I just formed them into balls myself). Dust with confectioners’ sugar, shape into balls, and place on wax paper. Freeze for at least 1 hour.

Melt the remaining chocolate in a double boiler, stirring occasionally. Set aside. If you wish to dust with cocoa (I didn’t), cover the bottom of a small shallow baking pan with cocoa powder. Remove truffles from freezer and dip in melted chocolate, one at a time, coating all sides. Drop coated truffles into cocoa powder. Gently shake pan to coat.

Place truffles in a single layer in a covered container and refrigerate. Serve at room temperature and try not to eat them all in one sitting.

December 4, 2014
Giving Thanks

Photo credit: Martin Cathrae, flickr

Today is the fourth Thursday in November, so for me and millions of others, that means only one thing: Thanksgiving. A day for giving thanks and feasting. A day to tease our British friends that we’re celebrating our independence from them.

But living as an American in the UK as I do, these high days and holy days bring not only joy but a corresponding ache as I’m away from family and friends. On Thanksgiving I feel the loss of feasting around a table heaving with turkey, stuffing, and gravy and of enjoying the friendship and lively conversation that ensues. Of course I understand why the British don’t celebrate this holiday, but I’m grateful that St Paul’s Cathedral hosts us for a meaningful Thanksgiving service each year.

Living today, I enjoy a mobility never imagined by the Pilgrims. My seven-hour airplane ride is a blip compared with their five-month journey across the choppy Atlantic in 1620. Their journey on the Mayflower was desperate. The ship was designed for carrying cargo, not passengers. And the cabin where they slept was intended for thirty people, not eighty. Their food rotted and was infested with insects; they nearly drowned when the ship’s main beam cracked; they endured ridicule from the sailors.

To read the rest of the blog, pop on over to Tania Vaughan’s “Best of British Women” blogs. (Yes, I’m British!)

November 27, 2014
Hope will not disappoint

Photo: Creative Commons, Urko Dorronsoro

“Don’t give up hope!” the well-intentioned friend says.

The one in pain wants to punch her friend, but restrains herself while thinking, “What does she know about hope? What does she know about disappointment and betrayal and death? How can she tell me not to give up on hope?”

Though perhaps lacking tact, the friend has a point. For those who follow Christ are told not to give up on hope. Even though their child might have died, or they suffer in a loveless marriage, or they face a life of unwanted singleness, or, or, or. The list of pain is as long as there are people, for we live in a world that is not as it should be. So how can we hope in the midst of what we face?

Continue reading at The Hope Diaries, an achingly honest blog about the birthing of faith, hope, and love in the midst of a marriage once shattered but now being rebuilt, stronger than before…

November 22, 2014
When God throws you a life ring

I sucked in my breath as I read a suicide note.

Having seen plenty of movies, I was expecting drama or at least a nice piece of paper. But this was just a torn scrap with a few words jotted down. He was matter-of-fact in his note to my friend, saying that his girls needed money, as did his ex-wife; that he couldn’t take it anymore; that his neighbor had a key. Desperation and depression, fueled by a chemical imbalance after years of drug abuse, resulted in his final act of an overdose.

Life ring on the dunes in Alnmouth, Northumberland. Credit: Dan Brady, flickr

Except that my friend received his letter in the afternoon, not the evening, as she was unexpectedly off from work. She grabbed a friend and went to his flat, broke down the door, and found him drugged but living. She wondered if he’d be angry to be found alive. He wasn’t; in fact, he later thanked her for caring. He said he had written to her because he didn’t want his body to be found after a week, covered in flies.

This was the same friend who a couple of months earlier had been told by an acquaintance, a doctor, to “get that mark on your face checked out.” He was the second medical friend who noticed it, which propelled her into actually making an appointment with her GP instead of delaying or brushing off the advice. She found out that she had pre-cancerous cells and underwent treatment. A few weeks later she heard that this young doctor had died on a hiking adventure after falling into a ravine. His potentially life-saving advice to her turned out to be one of his final acts of service on this earth.

Two men I’ve never met, and yet they made a profound impact on me. Why? Because I can easily get caught up in projects or tasks, and thus startling stories such as these remind me to value what really is important. For instance, just this morning I woke up early. Finally admitting I wasn’t going to fall back to sleep, I gave in and went into my study to write. But PyelotBoy also woke early and joined me, eager just to sit and spend some time together. I battled internally but stayed with him on the couch, reminding myself to enjoy these sweet moments together.

I wish I could say it was a grand success of communion with one whom I love, but throughout our half-hour together I kept thinking of the tasks I could and should be accomplishing. But although I didn’t succeed in shutting down the distracting thoughts, at least I stayed rooted to the couch, sitting with my son and chatting together. I didn’t shoo him away or give him some early iPad time to compensate for me wanting to get on with my next thing. Small victories, yes, but worth celebrating.

Life. It’s worth living. Who is sitting on your couch today whom you can be present to and enjoy?

November 21, 2014
My one word – train

Who loves training for a marathon? Not me.

Elite athletes at the London Paralympics 2012.

But that’s my word for the year (see my other posts on this movement) – train, with the accompanying verse is 2 Timothy 3:16 (about Scripture being God-breathed and useful for training in righteousness). Not exactly the word I was looking for in January, but it kept popping up in my mind, demanding to be heard. Is that from you, Lord? Okay, I’ll accept your gifts. The gift of training. Um, is that really a gift?

Last year, in contrast, I had the rather lovely word flourish, with Isaiah 55:10-11 as the accompanying verse (about the word of God bringing about the flourishing of his people and earth). I don’t know about you, but flourish seems a rather more fun word than train.

For training seems like hard work, marathon or not. (Not.) Sacrifice and graft. Saying no, no, no. Focusing down. But how can we flourish if we don’t train? How can we become the people God wants us to be if we don’t curb our tongues (against false words or too much indulgence or…) or practice our skills or share our gifts?

I’m seeing more and more how flourish and train go hand in hand.

When I first sensed that train was my word for the year, I immediately applied it to my writing life. That first longed-for book, I thought, I’ll have to train to write it and get it done. But of course my vision is too small, and the word doesn’t apply just to that first book, but to the whole of life.

Nearing the finish line, the result of many hours of training.

Who can I become if I train my tongue? One who brings life or death?

Who can I become if I train my body? One fit, able to run the race, or one easily winded?

Who can I become if I train my mind? One who thinks and explores and delves into the riches of God’s wisdom and world or one who atrophies, settling on past revelations and understanding?

Who can I become if I train my emotions? One thrown by the latest wind or fashion or crisis, or one anchored in the truths of God and of his love?

Who can I become if I train my heart? One who loves or one who doesn’t? And not just my family, but can I love people online (that pesky irritant who keeps spamming me), the young mother struggling with feeding her babe, the older gentleman at church who finds walking difficult, the person next to me on the Tube, those whom I come into contact with professionally?

And so on, and so on.

How about you? What comes to mind when you think of the word train? (Thanks in advance to those who restrain from the cheeky responses about wheels and engines and Thomas the Tank Engine.)

October 30, 2014
Join me in some shameless audacity?

The disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray. He answers with the now-famous Lord’s prayer, and then tells an intriguing story about you needing bread in the middle of the night because of unexpected visitors. You go to your friend and ask, but he can’t be bothered to get out of bed just on the weight of your friendship. But as Jesus says, “Yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need” (my emphasis, Luke 11:5-8).

You’re in dire straights – visitors to feed and no food – and so you receive what you ask for. The door opens for those who knock. Those who seek will find.

And how much more will our Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.

Signing the book contract with Steve Mitchell, MD of Authentic Media. Whoop, whoop!

I’m taking this passage to heart, as I embark on a writing project with a deadline of the end of the year. I’m asking the Lord with shameless audacity for his Holy Spirit, that he may spark ideas and fun and stories to fill this book – that it might be something actually worth reading! (But if it’s trash, I’ll not blame God. I don’t always hear him clearly, and I am trying to train myself away from distractions. Those distractions that could keep me from writing well.)

Oh, what’s the book? I’m glad you asked. Called View from the Vicarage, it’s a loving look at life in my adopted country – tea and all – to be published October 2015.

Do you need a dose of shameless audacity today? What’s your dream that you’ve long wanted to pursue?

October 1, 2014
Joys and Hurts of Hospitality

Photo captured on a sunset-hunting expedition with an artistic visitor.

Sometimes, hospitality hurts. We extend ourselves and welcome people into our homes, anticipating times of engaging conversation and laughter. But afterwards, we find ourselves drained in body, mind, and spirit. We become tempted to pull up the drawbridge and keep our castle for ourselves for a time.

The PyesAreUs have just come through a time of intense hospitality. Each weekend through the spring and summer, we hosted various groups of friends and family. As we’ve been gifted with the use of such a large and wonderful vicarage, we’ve always had the policy of saying “yes” when people want to stay. So this spring we said yes, and yes. And yes and yes and yes some more. Until we weren’t sure how we would cope. In fact, NicTheVic and I had just agreed that we’d not have anymore visitors when I opened up a social-networking site and glimpsed a request from one of my favorite people – someone I hadn’t seen in years. How could we pass up the opportunity of hosting them? “The speech bubble is still over my head,” I thought, musing over the decision NicTheVic and I had agreed. “I hope he sees the irony…”

Don’t get me wrong, we loved hosting (especially if you’re one of our guests as you read this!); what we struggled with was the timing of the many visits. Mainly: Why did they bunch themselves up together in an unrelenting cluster?

We were given an out at the end of the summer, and though hesitant, I took it. The friends who were to arrive just days after the kids and I dragged our jetlagged bodies home from two weeks in the States got in touch to say that the family they were visiting were all struck with the flu. The violent vomiting and diarrhea kind. Our friends had been exposed, so they said they’d understand if we wanted them to find an alternative place to stay.

Normally I would shrug off fears of sickness, but knowing how tired we were, and not being able to face tidying up the house again while so foggy in mind and body, and contemplating packing up PyelotBoy for his camp the day they’d arrive, and with the thought of body fluids being expelled so unpleasantly, I accepted their offer not to stay. Yes, I felt guilty. And yes, I labored over the decision. But it was right to say no, not least because they were able to extend their stay where they were, avoiding a huge hotel bill.

Sparklers and panache.

I’m learning we don’t always have to say yes.

But the joys of serving and welcoming weary visitors outweighs the challenges. Reflecting on our summer of hospitality, I’ve jotted down a few things to celebrate.

Serving shapes our character. I’m selfish. I like doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. But hosting guests gives us an opportunity to put the needs of others before ourselves. We seek to make them comfortable; we give them the big piece of dessert; we seek to make stimulating conversation. We’re reminded that it’s not all about us.

We receive, even when we give. Providing hospitality isn’t something we do to gain in return, but without fail, we will receive from our guests. The gift might be intangible: a particular insight about a problem we face; the love expressed in ways individual to them; affirming words; acts of service (is a night of babysitting tangible or intangible?). Or they might give us things: items from our home country that we can’t source locally; a family heirloom; a work of art; a beautiful scarf.

Children learn by watching. NicTheVic and I hope that our modeling of welcome will rub off on our kids. CutiePyeGirl is positively energized by the prospect of guests, asking what they are like when she hears they are coming and counting down the days if we’re welcoming someone really special, like grandparents. PyelotBoy, being an introvert, is more reticent, but when the guests arrive he realizes that it’s pretty great to chat and talk and get to know them – especially if they like sport.

Memories last forever. When I think back over the season of hospitality, what stand out are the memories. Like singing the Star Spangled Banner on the Fourth of July with sparklers. Drinking Pimms and watching ArtistMan create a painting within minutes while laughing with his wife. The glories of a British BBQ without rain. Walks and talks and catching up on life and love and hopes and dreams and fears.

Have you ever hosted until you hurt? How did you respond afterwards? What joys and challenges do you find with hospitality?

August 27, 2014
God or Chocolate?

Do you have a security blanket? CutiePyeGirl falls to sleep best when she has her Baby Elmo on her left and her sheepskin fleece on her right, the nightlight shining on the table nearby. Me, I’ve moved beyond soft toys to chocolate. When I’m stressed out – the kids are demanding or cranky and I’m tired and lacking patience – I can easily turn to a quick pick-me-up in the form of a mint chocolate biscuit.

Photo credit: Shimelle Laine, Creative Commons

Sometimes I grab one and don’t savor every sweet bite; I’m eating it without even noticing. How much better, of course, to find comfort from God. But chocolate can seem more accessible than our heavenly Father; its right here and while he can seem so far away.

How can I turn to God? How can I live in the present? How can I resist chocolate?

As I ponder these questions, I’ve been reading the book of Romans, thinking of how amazingly smart the Apostle Paul was. Parts of the letter seem dense and outside of my grasp; I have to chew them over, asking God through his Holy Spirit to reveal what he’d like me to grasp. And biblical commentaries are pretty great too.

Here’s what Romans 8:9–11 says: “You, however, are not controlled by the sinful nature but are in the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, they do not belong to Christ. But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.”

I believe Paul when he says that the Spirit of God lives in me. Thus I am not controlled by the sinful nature anymore but by the Spirit of God who lives in me. Christ in me gives life. Even though my body is subject to death because of sin, Christ gives life because of righteousness.

So if I’m not controlled by sinful desires but by the Spirit living in me, then why do I succumb to the momentary pleasures of a crunchy chocolate mint biscuit? On the grand scale, it’s the war between good and evil; the sinful nature and the redeemed nature. On a smaller scale, it’s my need to reshape my habits. To replace the compelling desire for that taste sensation with seeking the comfort God gives through his sweet words of love.

I wish I had an easy answer to spiritual success over mint chocolate biscuit bars: “Just do these five easy steps and you too will be free from enslavement to chocolate!” Is it ever so simple? I don’t think so.

But one simple exercise that I’m trying is to focus on part of a verse from Romans, as above: “The Spirit gives life because of righteousness.” Righteousness, meaning right living before God. His Spirit living in my mortal body, transforming me from the inside out. Asking him to reign in me – in my thoughts and actions – moment by moment, that I look to him and not to self-medication in the form of ingesting something sweet.

Do you love chocolate? Is it your go-to food when you’re stressed or sad? If so, how do you let righteousness reign?

August 14, 2014