After a little over a year of writing, editing, re-writing, praying, second-guessing, deleting whole sections, and starting again… Rooted Womanhood is officially published and available on Amazon!
That sentence still feels a little surreal to type.
This book didn’t come from a desire to “add my voice to the noise.” It came from a burden… a burden for women to read Scripture carefully, in context, and with confidence. A burden shaped by my own journey of learning how easily verses can be pulled out of context, how feelings can quietly replace truth, and how discernment is not optional for the Christian life.
This book is for women who love God and His Word and who want to grow in understanding how to read the Bible, not just what to read.
Inside, I walk through:
Why context matters more than we often realize
How to slow down and actually observe what the text is saying
How to move from observation to interpretation without importing our own assumptions
Why Scripture interprets Scripture
And why going back to the Word itself is always the safest place to land
My prayer is simple: that this book would help women open their Bibles with greater clarity, humility, and confidence and be rooted in God’s Word.
I’m deeply grateful to everyone who encouraged me along the way, prayed for this project and provided feedback.
If you’re interested, the book is now available on Amazon in both paperback and ebook formats.
Thank you for being here, for reading, and for caring about truth.
If there’s decent coffee, thoughtful decor, a cozy atmosphere, and a room full of women who are honest, open, and longing for something deeper… I’m in! I’ve attended many. I’ve been encouraged by many. Some of those spaces genuinely meant a lot to me at the time.
I’ve also led women’s ministry.
I planned a women’s conference, or two and organized events. I chose themes and shaped messages. And here’s the part I need to say out loud: I’m guilty too.
Not of intentionally avoiding repentance but of not even thinking about it. At the time, it honestly didn’t cross my mine. My heart was sincere. I wanted women to feel welcome, safe, and encouraged. I wanted them to leave feeling lighter than when they walked in.
Looking back now, I realize something essential was missing.
When Welcome Quietly Becomes the Goal
Women come into ministry spaces carrying real things.
Past trauma. Broken relationships. Abandonment. Deep insecurity. Sin they don’t know how to name. Shame they’ve quietly carried for years.
That matters. Scripture never minimizes suffering. We are called to bear one another’s burdens and to weep with those who weep.
And women’s ministry is often very good at this part.
We talk about wounds. We talk about healing. We talk about identity and worth. We talk about sharing burdens… sometimes with object lessons meant to show that no one has to walk alone.
There is truth here. Real truth.
But over time, I began to notice a subtle shift. The focus increasingly landed on us.
And Christ often felt like the supporting character rather than the center.
The Gospel Is Not a Self-Help Message
Here’s the tension I couldn’t shake anymore.
We talked a lot about pain… but very little about sin. We talked a lot about healing… but rarely about repentance. We talked a lot about God’s love… but not much about why the cross was necessary.
The message, unintentionally, began to sound something like this: God loves you. You matter. You’re worthy. Jesus is here to help you carry what’s heavy.
Some of that is true, absolutely!
But without repentance, the gospel quietly shifts from rescue to reassurance.
Scripture never presents the gospel as a way to feel better about ourselves. It presents it as salvation from sin and death.
And that’s where Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians become impossible for me to ignore.
We Preach Christ Crucified
Paul writes:
“For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:18, LSB
Right away, Paul draws a dividing line. The cross doesn’t land neutrally. It exposes hearts. Some hear it and reject it. Others hear it and are saved.
He continues:
“For Jews ask for signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, to Jews a stumbling block and to Gentiles foolishness.” 1 Corinthians 1:22-23, LSB
In other words, people wanted a message that fit their expectations.
The Jews wanted something impressive and the Greeks wanted something sophisticated.
Paul refused to reshape the message to make it more appealing. Instead, he centered in on the very thing people were most tempted to avoid: a crucified Savior.
A suffering Messiah. A bloody cross. A message that confronts pride, self-sufficiency, and sin.
And then Paul explains why he is unmoved by how offensive it sounds:
“Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.” 1 Corinthians 1:25, LSB
What looks weak is actually where God displays His power.
Paul’s Ministry Philosophy
Paul doesn’t stop there. In the next chapter, he explains how this conviction shaped how he ministered:
“And when I came to you, brothers, I did not come with superiority of speech or of wisdom, proclaiming to you the witness of God.” 1 Corinthians 2:1, LSB
Paul intentional avoided polished rhetoric, emotional manipulation and impressive presentation. Not because those things are evil but because they can distract from the message itself.
Then he says this:
“For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” 1 Corinthians 2:2, LSB
This wasn’t minimalism. It was clarity.
Paul understood that the moment the message shifts from Christ to human experience something essential is lost.
And he gives us this reason:
“So that your faith would not be in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 2:5, LSB
That verse should stop us in our tracks.
Why This Connects Directly to Women’s Ministry
When ministry centers primarily on our wounds, our stories, our healing or our worth, faith can quietly begin to rest on experience rather that on Christ.
Atmosphere, vulnerability, shared emotion, and encouragement are not wrong but they cannot carry the weight of saving faith.
When repentance is sidelined, the cross becomes symbolic instead of central. When Christ crucified fades into the background, the message slowly becomes about us.
Paul refused to let that happen.
Not because he lacked compassion but because he loved the church too much to give them anything less than the true gospel.
Repentance Is Not the Enemy of Grace
Repentance makes us uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel cozy. It doesn’t fit neatly into conference branding. And it risks making people uneasy.
But repentance simply tells the truth.
It says:
You are not only wounded—you are a sinner.
You don’t just need healing—you need forgiveness.
Your deepest problem isn’t what happened to you—it’s your separation from a holy God.
And that truth is what makes grace so astonishing.
Becoming a Christian doesn’t erase sin. It changes our relationship to it.
We are saints declared righteous in Christ. And we are still sinners being sanctified day by day.
Repentance isn’t a one-time doorway. It’s the ongoing rhythm of the Christian life.
Less Focus on Us, More Freedom for Us
Here’s the irony I didn’t see when I was leading women’s ministry.
The more we center everything on our wounds, our stories, and our healing, the heavier everything becomes.
But when Christ crucified is preached clearly, our pain finally finds its proper place.
Jesus didn’t come primarily to make us feel better about ourselves. He came to save sinners.
He lived the life we could not live. He bore the suffering we could not bear. He took the judgment we deserved. He defeated death. And He now sits at the right hand of the Father because the work is finished.
That’s not harsh.
That’s hope.
Truth Spoken in Love is Still Love
This isn’t a call for colder ministry or harsher language. It’s not a dismissal of compassion or care. And it certainly isn’t written from a place of superiority.
It’s written from experience. From someone who led, planned, and taught with good intentions, and later realized something essential was missing.
We don’t make women less welcome by telling the truth. We don’t diminish God’s love by talking about repentance. And we don’t honor Christ by keeping the cross in the background.
The gospel is good news because it tells the truth about who God is, who we are, and what Christ has done.
I’m reading through the ESV Chronological Bible this year, and right out of the gate, I was reminded why the early chapters of Genesis can feel so unsettling.
These are stories many of us first heard as children. They were often softened, simplified, and wrapped up neatly for us. But when you return to them as an adult and read them slowly, they don’t always land the way you expect.
Ham seems to be punished for doing the “right” thing. Cain seems to be rejected despite bringing an offering. And if we’re honest, God can appear harsh or unfair if we skim.
And that reaction is exactly why this matters. When Scripture feels unfair, it is usually inviting us to read more carefully, not to sit in judgment over the text.
Reading too fast makes Scripture feel harsh
We live in a culture that skims. We’re trained to expect immediate clarity and quick explanations. But Scripture doesn’t operate that way.
The Bible often tells us what happened without immediately telling us everything. It assumes we will keep reading, compare passages, and allow later Scripture to shed light on earlier events. This is not a flaw; it’s a feature.
From the beginning, God reveals truth progressively. Genesis lays foundations. Later books build on them. Scripture interprets Scripture.
When Ham looks honest and the curse feels unfair
In Genesis 9, Noah becomes drunk and lies uncovered in his tent (Genesis 9:20-21). Ham “saw the nakedness of his father” and told his brothers, while Shem and Japheth carefully covered Noah without looking (Genesis 9:22-23).
When Noah wakes, the text says he “knew what his youngest son had done to him” (Genesis 9:24). His response is striking: he curses Canaan, Ham’s son, rather than Ham himself (Genesis 9:25).
At first glance, this feels confusing. Ham appears to tell his brothers what happened, and Canaan seems to bear the weight of a curse for something he did not personally do.
But Scripture is careful with its language here. “Seeing nakedness” is not a neutral phrase in the Old Testament. It often carries connotations of grave dishonor and sexual wrongdoing (cf. Leviticus 18). Whatever Ham did, the text makes clear it was serious enough to warrant a prophetic response, not a momentary outburst.
As we keep reading Scripture, we learn why Canaan matters. The descendants of Canaan become known for persistent sexual immorality, violence, and idolatry. Sins that God explicitly condemns and eventually judges (Leviticus 18:24-30; Deuteronomy 9:4-5). Genesis is not recording an arbitrary curse; it is foreshadowing a moral trajectory and a future judgment that unfolds over generations.
Genesis plants the seed. The rest of Scripture reveals the fruit.
When Cain looks sincere and God looks unfair
The account of Cain and Abel raises a similar tension. Both brothers bring offerings to the Lord (Genesis 4:3-4). God accepts Abel’s offering but not Cain’s (Genesis 4:4-5). Cain becomes angry, and God warns him plainly that sin is crouching at the door and that he must rule over it (Genesis 4:6-7).
As children, many of us were left with the impression that God simply preferred Abel’s gift. But Scripture tells us more. Just not all in one place.
Hebrews explains that Abel offered his sacrifice “by faith” (Hebrews 11:4). 1 John tells us that Cain’s deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous (1 John 3:12). Even Genesis itself makes clear that Cain was warned and invited to repent before judgment ever came (Genesis 4:7).
Cain was not rejected without explanation. He was confronted, corrected, and given an opportunity to respond and he refused.
Again, Scripture interprets Scripture.
Genesis is establishing a pattern
These early accounts are doing more than telling stories. Genesis consistently shows us that God is concerned with the heart, not just outward actions (cf. 1 Samuel 16:7). It shows us that judgment is never impulsive and that God gives warnings before consequences (cf. Ezekiel 18:23).
What feels abrupt or unfair when isolated begins to make sense when we read patiently and in context. God is not inconsistent. We are often just reading too quickly.
Why this matters more than we think
When Scripture makes us uncomfortable, our instinct is often to soften it, explain it away, or quietly move past it. But discomfort is not the enemy of faith. Sometimes it’s the very thing that pushes us deeper into the Word.
When a passage feels unfair, the most faithful response is not, “This can’t be right,” but, “What am I missing?” Scripture repeatedly calls us to humility; to trust that God is just even when we don’t yet see the whole picture (Deuteronomy 32:4; Psalm 19:7-9).
This matters today because so many women are being discipled, often unintentionally, to evaluate Scripture through emotion, cultural assumptions, or personal experience rather than allowing Scripture to define truth for itself.
Careful reading guards us against shallow conclusions and helps us see the consistency of God’s character across the whole Bible.
A better posture as we read
When Scripture feels unfair, the problem is rarely the Bible itself. More often, it’s our pace, our assumptions, or our unwillingness to let Scripture explain Scripture.
Genesis doesn’t need defending. The Bible doesn’t need modern approval.
It needs careful, humble readers who trust that God is both just and good—and who are willing to keep reading until His Word makes that clear.
The start of a new year always comes with a strange mix of hope and pressure.
On one hand, the world tells us January 1 is a reset button — a clean slate, a chance to reinvent ourselves, a fresh start where all the hard things from last year politely stay behind. New planners, new routines, new goals, new us.
But if we’re honest… that’s not really how life works, is it?
Because even when the calendar flips, real life keeps happening.
People we love pass away. Health issues don’t politely wait for a new season. Financial stress doesn’t disappear because it’s January. Relationships strain. Transitions come whether we’re ready or not.
2025 was a hard year for many of us and the truth is, every year carries its own set of trials. Scripture never promises us a year free from sorrow or struggle. What it does promise is something far better: steadfast truth, an unchanging Savior, and grace that holds us when everything else feels unsteady.
So instead of chasing the idea of a “fresh start,” what if we entered 2026 asking a different question?
Not How can I reinvent myself? But How can I live more anchored in Christ?
The World Loves Reinvention. Scripture Calls Us to Rootedness.
The world’s version of growth is loud and self-focused.
Be better. Do more. Fix yourself. Manifest a new reality.
But Scripture doesn’t tell us to look inward for transformation. It tells us to look upward.
Real spiritual growth doesn’t come from hype or hustle. It comes from nearness to Christ.
Charles Spurgeon captured this beautifully when he said:
“I wish, my brothers and sisters, that during this year you may live nearer to Christ than you have ever done before. Depending upon it, it is when we think much of Christ that we think little of ourselves, little of our troubles, and little of our doubts and fears that surround us.”
That’s it, isn’t it?
Not thinking more of ourselves. Not obsessing over our circumstances. But thinking much of Christ.
Because when Christ is near, everything else finds its proper place.
Start the Year by Anchoring, Not Achieving
Before we talk about goals, habits, or plans, we need to talk about posture.
Scripture invites us to begin not with ambition, but with humility.
Psalm 139:23–24 says:
“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
This isn’t a prayer asking God for new revelation or mystical insight. It’s a prayer of submission.
It’s saying: Lord, let Your Word examine me. Correct me. Shape me. Lead me.
That kind of prayer doesn’t hype us up. It grounds us.
Before the year gets loud, busy, or overwhelming, anchoring ourselves in God’s truth reminds us who we are and whose we are.
Spiritual “Goals” That Actually Last
Let’s be real, spiritual growth isn’t measured by how many boxes we check.
It’s measured by faithfulness, not flash.
Instead of setting goals that put pressure on your performance, consider rhythms that draw you nearer to Christ:
Spend regular, unhurried time in God’s Word. Not to get through a plan, but to know Him.
Let Scripture shape your prayers, even when words feel hard to find.
Memorize passages that remind you of what’s true, especially when emotions tell a different story.
Commit to your local church, even when it’s inconvenient or imperfect.
Invite godly women into your life who will point you back to Scripture, not trends or opinions.
None of this is flashy. All of it is deeply forming.
Community Matters More Than Ever
Anchoring ourselves in truth isn’t meant to be a solo effort.
Hebrews reminds us not to neglect gathering together and that feels especially relevant in a world where isolation is normal and discernment feels rare.
A doctrinally sound local church, faithful preaching, and Christ-centered relationships provide stability when the world feels shaky.
And for women, Titus 2 relationships matter deeply. Not for trend-driven mentorship, but for wisdom rooted in God’s Word and lived experience.
We need each other to stay grounded.
Growth Is Slow and That’s Okay
One of the biggest lies we believe at the start of a new year is that growth should be quick and obvious.
But sanctification doesn’t work on a calendar.
Philippians 1:6 reminds us that God finishes what He starts; not on our timeline, but His.
Some seasons grow us quietly. Some stretch us painfully. Some simply teach us endurance.
All of them matter.
Faithfulness in small, ordinary obedience glorifies God far more than dramatic spiritual overhauls.
Rest in What Is Already Finished
As we step into 2026, it’s worth remembering this:
Your spiritual growth does not secure your salvation. Christ already did that. “It is finished” wasn’t a suggestion — it was a declaration.
Our obedience flows from gratitude, not fear. Our growth flows from grace, not striving.
So, as We Begin This Year…
Let’s worry less about starting fresh and focus more on staying anchored.
Anchored in truth. Anchored in Scripture. Anchored in Christ.
If we live nearer to Him this year, truly nearer, everything else will fall into its proper place.
And that is a far better goal than any planner could ever promise.
The organ began playing “Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus,” and it felt as though every note carried the weight of a prayer. Even as a child, I sensed that this hymn held something deeper than I could fully articulate. It captured both the ache of longing and the quiet joy of expectation. Two themes that sit at the very heart of the Christmas season.
In my Through the Hymns series, I’ve loved exploring the rich theology and history behind the songs that shape our worship. This Christmas season, I find myself drawn again to hymns that highlight both the anticipation of God’s promises and their fulfillment in Christ. Few hymns do this as beautifully as “Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus.” It bridges the longing of the Old Testament with the hope we rest in today.
Written in 1744, this hymn was penned by Charles Wesley during a time of great social and spiritual need. Surrounded by poverty, injustice, and suffering—particularly among orphaned children—Wesley wrote these words as a prayer for deliverance, restoration, and lasting peace. Drawing from passages like Isaiah 9:6 and Haggai 2:7, he pointed hearts to the promised Messiah who would bring true freedom. Set to the beloved Welsh tune Hyfrydol, the hymn has endured because it speaks to a longing that is both deeply personal and universally shared.
Come, Thou long-expected Jesus, Born to set Thy people free; From our fears and sins release us, Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation, Hope of all the earth Thou art; Dear Desire of every nation, Joy of every longing heart.
These opening lines draw us straight into the meaning of Christmas. Jesus is the One who releases us from sin and fear and invites us into true rest (Matthew 11:28). He is Israel’s promised Messiah and the hope of all nations (Isaiah 9:6; Haggai 2:7). Wesley reminds us that Christ does not merely fulfill ancient prophecy; He satisfied the deepest longings of the human heart.
Born they people to deliver, Born a child and yet a King, Born to reign in us forever, Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.
By Thine own eternal Spirit, Rule in all our hearts alone; By Thine all-sufficient merit, Raise us to Thy glorious throne.
Here we are drawn into the holy paradox of the incarnation. Jesus enters the world as a child, yet He is the eternal King whose reign will never end (Luke 1:33). The prayer that His Spirit would rule in our hearts echoes God’s promise to give His people new hearts and His indwelling Spirit (Ezekiel 36:27). And the final plea rests squarely on grace. Our hope is not in our merit, but in Christ’s all-sufficient work (Ephesians 2:8-9).
“Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus” calls us to look backward and forward at the same time. It invites us to rejoice in Christ’s first coming while longing for His return. It offers rest to weary hearts and anchors our hope in the certainty of His eternal reign.
As we sing these words during this Christmas season, may they lead us into deeper worship of the Savior who has come and who will come again.
