The past two Sabbaths began with immediate immersion—words flowed, thoughts were clear, and I began journaling right away. There was no resistance to entering into Solitude and Sabbath.

So naturally, I expected the same this week.

But this time, I found myself returning to box breathing, simply sitting in the LORD’s presence… waiting.

And then I wondered:

Is this resistance? Or is this what intentional connectedness looks like today?

Good Tired

On Monday morning, after an amazing and memorable Baptism Sunday—when ten of our family members publicly declared their faith in Jesus (and held their breath underwater as they were reborn)—I woke up with a headache and that familiar feeling of coming down with something. So, I slept in.

I pushed through the day and felt a little better by evening, even managing to squeeze in a nap before dinner. Looking back, though, I realize it wasn’t illness—it was what Ruth Haley Barton, in Invitation to Solitude and Silence, calls “good tired”:

“This is the kind of tiredness we experience after a job well done, a task accomplished out of the best of who we are.”

That phrase resonates deeply. The tiredness I felt after Sunday wasn’t sickness—it was a sign of deep engagement, joyful exertion, and shared celebration. It was temporary and meaningful.

Barton warns of a different kind of weariness: “dangerous tired”—a chronic exhaustion that threatens to undo us. But this?

This was good tired. And for that, I delight.

Discernment in Solitude

This week, my reflection centered on where I most feel God’s nearness—through Solitude and Scripture. As is my rhythm, I began Sabbath by entering into intentional Solitude, followed by time in the Word. After that, I moved into reading from my spiritual formation stack.

Typically, I commit to at least one chapter, then continue as led—sometimes reading from six or more books, other times lingering in Scripture alone. This week, I found myself immersed in Ruth Haley Barton’s Invitation to Solitude and Silence, and it prompted me to send a text to someone who came to mind. That message turned out to be timely and meaningful for them. I also spent time in Ed Silvoso’s Women: God’s Secret Weapon, which offered fresh insight into God’s calling for women in the Kingdom.

As with all books outside of Scripture—even those deeply Christ-centered—I read with discernment. Authors, like all of us, are fallible. That’s why I always encourage testing everything against Scripture. Good ideas and well-written prose do not necessarily equal God’s truth. As Paul reminds us in 1 Thessalonians 5:21–22, “Test everything; hold on to what is good, reject every kind of evil.” Or, as the idiom goes: Eat the meat, spit out the bones.

Silvoso describes women as “twice refined”—a phrase he uses to highlight the purposeful design woven into the genetic and spiritual differences between men and women. He suggests that identity and purpose begin not with society’s definitions of masculinity, femininity, or even sexual orientation (though these are important), but with God’s intentional design.

In all things—books, insights, impressions—let us seek the truth with both mind and heart. Because in Solitude, through Scripture, and with discernment, we draw nearer to the voice of God.