a new year rolls in, familiar and fresh at the very same time. we count it down just like the last, pens in hand, writing resolutions most of us will give up before cupid even peeks out from the greeting card aisle.

eat less, exercise more.
watch less, read more.
spend less, save more.

nevermind that we made the same goals last year and the 5 years before that. our lists grow on, fed by excitement over the possibility of a skinnier, smarter, richer self.

i can't say for sure whether this year will be different. maybe 2014 will greet different versions of you and me. maybe it won't.

those who know me best know the color coursing through my veins: maroon.

texas a&m, with all her people, traditions, and football (especially her football), gave me four exciting years, several precious friendships, and countless lessons that had absolutely nothing to do with the classroom. i loved my time there, growing along with the east Texas pines, and the gold ring on my right hand serves as a constant reminder of the memories. i'm proud to be an aggie.

but those who know me best also know i almost skipped out on a&m altogether.

remember this "no duh" moment?

"to praise God, we must know God. to know God, we must read His word."

i'm on a journey to praise God more by knowing God more, to know God more by seeking Him more, and to seek Him more by reading His word more.

will you join me?

part 1: commit to reading one chapter of God's word every day for 7 days. {if you need a suggestion on where to start, email me at faithinbetween@gmail.com}.

part 2: focus on the question, "what does this show me about who God is?" and journal through it as you read.

part 3: come back here or visit our facebook page & share anything you've you learned or rediscovered about God.

    i never knew how to praise God. not really, i mean.

    in the difficult and desperate times, people get that. most know it themselves, the challenge of finding relentless faith in the midst of persistent pain. there will be a few, usually, standing by, leaning in to help pull you out of the hard seasons.  and after some healing and overcoming and growth, the pain passes and praise returns, invigorated. strengthened. more powerful than ever before.

    but i didn't just struggle with praising God in the difficult and desperate times. i struggled in the Monday mornings and the Sunday service, in prayer time and in every day moments.  oh, i could say the right words and whisper the psalms. i could listen to a prayer warrior pour out praise and for a moment, feel the truth of their words in my soul, but it never lingered long.

    i thought by now i'd have it all together.

    as a teenager peeking over the edge of high school into college, i couldn't wait to leap into the stable career, exciting romance, and cute stilettos my twenties were sure to hold. it would all seamlessly unfold: an impressive degree into money, money into marriage, marriage into kids and a porch and a white picket fence. and oh yeah, there would be plenty of time to take spontaneous trips with perfect friends and an endless supply of cute shoes.

    but the transition into adulthood has felt less like leaping and a little more like being shoved, pulled, and twisted. stable career? i've had at least 4 different jobs since graduation. cute stilettos? who knew they cost so much money? spontaneous trips with perfect friends? we're lucky if we squeeze in dinner once a month.

    turns out, this whole 20something thing is a little different than the movies told me it would be.

    and that's where sarah martin's Stress Point comes in.

    they have good intentions, you know, those who tell you that real beauty is on the inside.

    they just want you to know that your significance is not tied to your outward appearance, that your heart is so much more important than your hair or your figure or your face. they see the messages this world throws at you and more than anything, they want to protect you.

    and i agree with them. i just think they're only telling half the story. and it's unfair to you because the other half is just as important as the first.

    sometimes church feels like first monday back to school after a slumber part you weren't invited to.

    the little jokes, the innuendos, the giggling. someone walks up and asks how you are but their interest is fleeting; before a response even forms on your lips they're walking away, laughing with someone else about something you don't understand and so you turn, once again unnoticed, and slip into the crowd. in a split second you've transformed from a woman at church to a 6th grader in a lunchroom, staring into your sandwich as your friends laugh over a funny memory you weren't there to make. week after week, it takes its toll, this game you don't have the energy to play. it's frustrating.