Years ago my youngest son was fighting for his life in the children’s ICU. Days, weeks, and months on end he lay there, a tiny boy in a big hospital bed, surrounded by IV towers and monitors there to support his body and all its systems. Every day, I stood watch next to his bed. And most evenings I drove home, pleading with God to spare my son.

On many of those evening drives, too weary to form prayers, I cried out to God in the form of cry-singing hymns and worship songs in my car. One of those songs was “Surrounded,” sung by Michael W. Smith and written by Elyssa Smith. The simple, repeating refrain goes like this: “It may look like I’m surrounded / but I’m surrounded by you / This is how I fight my battles.”

Driving down I-65 in 2019, I felt like King David in the tenth century BC, fleeing from Absalom for his life. “Lord, how my foes increase!…Many say about me, ‘There is no help for him in God’” (Psalm 3:1–2). The medical diagnoses were stacking up to create a wall too high for my boy and his brilliant medical team to scale. There seemed to be no help strong enough to save.

But the Lord was a shield around him even then. The Lord lifted up my head, right there in the middle of the battle. In the middle of the difficult prognosis, He welcomed my cries and my questions. In the middle of the unknown outcome, He welcomed my weariness and my grief.

The psalms are evidence of a God who invites us to bring our whole selves to Him. These poems and prayers demonstrate the radical closeness we have with God—in every emotion and circumstance, today and every day—through the cross of Jesus Christ. Access, intimacy, and irrevocable belonging are ours because our God pursued us with His presence all the way to death and life again. Underneath every expression of praise, adoration, petition, and lament in the psalms lays an unshakeable foundation: the character of our good God proven in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

I feel needy of the psalms in this season. Lent is a time of remembering and repenting, reorienting our hearts to the truth of who God is and who we are in Him. It requires honesty, patience, and the pain of a heart broken for the reality of sin and suffering. As we read the book of Psalms for Lent, I pray we will respond to the invitation to bare our hearts as before God as His beloved children. May this ancient prayerbook teach us to question and yet trust, grieve and yet worship. Let’s savor the psalms as they lead us day by day, verse by verse, into Holy Week. There we will witness again the act of radical love and power that has rescued our hearts and reconciled us to God forever.

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

It’s an illustration so vivid that Peter’s hard-won lesson is impossible to miss. Like Peter, our central call is to stay focused on Jesus as He empowers us, through the gift of His Spirit, to do what we’ve been called to do.

This same Peter is a key figure in the book of Acts. Despite opposition and imprisonment, he consistently kept his eyes focused on Jesus as he helped build and lead the early Church. The book of Acts is the history book of the earliest Christians, like Peter, who were a brand-new community of Jesus-followers learning how to live out the gospel that had newly transformed every aspect of their lives and worldview. The inspiring, action-packed narrative recounts the spread of Jesus’s message and the growth of the early Church. But it’s important to remember that these first church planters and preachers were not superheroes; they were sinners saved by grace, ordinary people with an extraordinary Savior. The spread of the Church was fueled not by flawless strategy but by earnest faith in Jesus.

Pastor and theologian N. T. Wright notes that the book of Acts shows us how “the method of the kingdom will match the message of the kingdom.” The gospel is the good news of Jesus for the sinner, the suffering, the vulnerable, the misunderstood, and the overconfident. And the gospel is spread by these same unlikely ambassadors—not by their might or power but by the Holy Spirit living in and among them.

The birth of the early Church is the story of God’s kingdom alive in His people and spread by His Spirit at work in us. It is the true story of where we came from and where we are going. As you set out to read, ask God to guide you by His Spirit even now, training your eyes to focus on Him in carrying out the work He’s called us to do.

When I think of the Advent season in future tense, I picture a magical, set-apart time when everything slows and settles, allowing us to focus on togetherness, gratitude, and celebration. Then December arrives, and underneath the festivities and twinkle lights, a longing lingers. The difficult parts of life are still difficult. Strained relationships are still strained. The things we hoped would be different by now are mostly still the same.

Advent rarely looks or feels the way we wish it would, and our hearts would sink into despair but for the truth: This ordinary, in-process life is precisely where God meant to meet us.

The tidings of comfort and joy that we sing about are comforting and joyful because Christmas finds us in the throes of everyday life. Christ comes to bring light and life to us right where we are.

Christmas in the hospital.
Christmas in the wake of grief.
Christmas in the pile of past due bills.
Christmas in the fatigue of family strife.
Christmas in the uncertainty of what’s next.

Jesus is God who came to dwell with us, here in the midst of our angst and messiness and sickness and pride. Here in our busy schedules and aching bodies and tired hearts. Here in the world He created and loves and is committed to redeeming.

The baby in the manger is not the start of the story. Jesus’s birth happened in the midst of God’s ongoing pursuit of His people and His plan to bring them back into the glory of His presence forever.

This year’s Advent reading plan approaches the Christmas story from this point of view, starting with the creation in Genesis and walking through traditional passages of the season as they unfold in Scripture. Alongside God’s people in the Old Testament, we’ll feel the ache for the promised Messiah and the anticipation of His coming. We’ll watch in awe when God sends His Son into the world, at just the right time, to save the world through Him. And we will look with hope to the second advent—His promised return.

As you enter this Advent season, lay down your heavy load, and lean into the comfort of Christ. He is “the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). He is the light who “shines in the darkness, and yet the darkness did not overcome it” (v.5). Our longings will linger until Christ comes again, but there is deep joy offered to us—right where we are—in the love and mercy of Jesus. May every reading in this reading plan lead you into the presence of the God who came near.

Jesus in 500 words or less. Is that even possible? After all, the apostle John ended his Gospel by stating that the world is not big enough for all the books that could be written about this man, Jesus Christ of Nazareth (John 21:25). And if John says it can’t be done, who am I to try?

The daunting task reminds me of those blue test booklets in school, the ones designed to hold handwritten answers to essay questions, paragraph after painful paragraph to prove how much we did—or didn’t—know about the subject at hand. I love words and I liked school, but even I hated those blue booklets. They symbolized a reckoning none of us could escape, the teacher acting as the sole judge of whether our finite knowledge was enough.

“Who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 16:15), Jesus asked His disciples after yet another encounter with the religious leaders who were constantly trying to corner Him, embarrass Him, and discredit Him. But His question isn’t only for the Twelve; it’s also for us.

Who is Jesus? He is God incarnate, the very fullness of God in the form of a man. John described Him this way: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. We observed his glory, the glory as the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Jesus was present at creation when the earth was formed and as the first man and woman were made in the image of God. “He was with God in the beginning,” John writes. “All things were created through him, and apart from him not one thing was created that has been created” (John 1:2–3).

Not one thing was created apart from Jesus. “He is before all things, and by him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:17). And yet, Jesus came to walk the very earth He formed, becoming a real human being who talked and laughed and ate breakfast and felt physical pain. He came to dwell among us—to live and die and rise again as the Savior of the world.

Who is Jesus? God the Father answered the question as His only Son stood high on a mountain, three of His friends beside Him and two ancient fathers of the faith looking on. “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased” (Matthew 17:5). God then followed that statement with a not-so-subtle command: “Listen to him!”

Who is Jesus? He is the Son of God who reveals the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:14,18). He is the Lamb of God who fulfilled the law we could not keep and took the punishment for our sins on Himself (Romans 8:3–4). He is the risen Savior who reconciles us to God and gives us peace (Colossians 1:19–20).

All of Scripture points to Jesus. Every story whispers about Him. And though we may not be able to explain this reality in any number of blue test booklets, we can know it in our bones all the same. As we read the stories of women and men in the New Testament, I pray that we see Jesus. May we stand with Peter and profess: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16).

But Genesis is another story. It is the story—our story. The beginning of all beginnings, this book is the true history of who we are and where we came from. As the first book of the Bible, it is the debut of God’s character, His creation and compassion, and His covenant with humanity. And though, yes, we humans did dive headlong into sin upon our first entrance onto the stage, our faithful, holy, and steadfast Creator remains true. God is the author and star of this story, and still He has invited us into it. 

The book of Genesis presents hard truths about human nature and the fallen world we live in, but it is ultimately a book of hope. God created each one of us to bear His image, and He has not changed His mind. Fear and fallenness plague us here on earth, but God will one day bring us home to the perfect peace of His presence. Even death itself will die, and we will get the fresh start we’ve always longed for—the perfect new beginning, free from fear. 

As we read Genesis, we’ll watch as God spoke light into being and made humanity out of dust. We will see how He formed the nation of Israel in the womb of a barren Sarah and promised to make them His people. And we will find ourselves in the stories, children of God whom He has loved and pursued since the beginning. 

I pray that this reading plan brings you to a deeper knowledge of the God who made you and a deeper longing for His presence. He alone knows the end from the beginning, and we can rest in Him. 

I was nervous about bringing our boy home. I was excited, overjoyed, in tears with anticipation, but the unknowns that were ahead made my chest tighten. I had to remind myself to practice what I learned when waiting for our first three children to arrive: “Breathe. Just breathe.”

I wondered how he’d adjust to his new home, to his big sister and big brothers, to his two big dogs and the cat and the chickens in the backyard. I wondered how he’d take to American culture and American food. But the thing I was most nervous about was the language. He only spoke Mandarin; we spoke English. Would we be able to communicate? Would he understand our botched renditions of “I love you” and “You are our son” and “It’s okay” in his native tongue?

How and what we communicated to our son mattered then, and it matters now. Everything we say, from playful banter to earnest conversation, we want to be from our love and desire to care for him—our words rooted in the fact that we are family.

When Paul addressed the gifts of the Spirit in 1 Corinthians 14, specifically the gifts of prophesying and speaking in tongues, he said some things that are tough for our modern ears to understand. But if we look at the chapter as a whole, we can see a theme emerge: “Seek to excel in building up the church” (v.12). In this lengthy chapter, Paul acknowledged that the Holy Spirit is real, that the Spirit indeed gives gifts that can only come from God and that these gifts are good and God-honoring. But in the same breath, he offered a warning about how these gifts are to be used—and, as importantly, why they are to be used. According to Paul, the reason is more straightforward than we might expect: “Everything is to be done for building up” (v.26).

The Church, the body of believers, is God’s dwelling place on earth. Just as God’s presence filled the tabernacle in the Old Testament, His Spirit fills those of us who have put our faith in Jesus. The way we conduct our worship and our gatherings matter because God is in our midst, and “God is not a God of disorder but of peace” (v.33). Furthermore, our interactions and our meeting together ought to be governed by unity, not discord. We are a family—a family established by God Himself. Our words and actions are rooted in this eternal truth.

The diversity within the family of God is a beautiful, purposeful thing. May the Holy Spirit that binds us make our hearts tender toward our fellow family members, seeking to love the Church and build her up in all we say and do. May we worship in a way that causes the unbelievers in our midst to proclaim, “God is really among you.”

Early on in working together, back when it was just the two of us, Raechel and I learned a valuable lesson: seeing things differently is a gift to be stewarded, not a tension to be avoided. Today there are many more teammates at SRT headquarters, and this lesson still rings true—each person brings different skills and perspectives to the table, but we are a team. We are here for each other, for the work set before us, and for you. Above all, we are here to hold out God’s Word and bring glory to Him. Our differences help, not hinder, this pursuit. 

It’s easy for me to see God’s provision in the differences among our team members. But I’m embarrassed to admit I often expect homogeneity in the Church. I find myself frustrated by our differences, bothered that we can’t all agree on every aspect of our faith and life as followers of Jesus. I’m saddened when these differences go beyond disagreements to cause division, and I get discouraged when these divisions are not easily overcome. I forget that God’s Word and perfect wisdom are not diminished by our limited understanding or altered by our various opinions. 

In his letters to the church at Corinth, the apostle Paul encouraged this congregation of young believers to embrace their common and primary identity in Christ. He desired for them to know and act on the truth that “we were all baptized by one Spirit into one body” (1Corinthians 12:13). The image of the Church as one body appears throughout these letters, making clear Paul’s resounding declaration: we are many, but we are one in Christ. 

As you read, ask the Holy Spirit to open your eyes to see the Church all around you. Ask Him to teach you more about Himself, His body of believers, and the truth of His Word. Like the church at Corinth, we come to this text from a colorful array of backgrounds, experiences, and traditions, but we have a Savior who binds us together. May His mercy and grace unite us as we read.

The maps of our lives rarely look the way we expect them to. I talked to my friend Sissy about this recently as we sat together in the She Reads Truth podcast studio, acknowledging the aches and uncertainties of being human. A counselor with over thirty years experience ministering to families, Sissy described an exercise where she asks kids to make a timeline of their life so far, drawing mountains and valleys to represent the happy and hard things they’ve walked through. It’s sobering to realize that even young children have painful events and difficult seasons that they can look back on and name.

When I consider what a map of my life might look like, there are detours and dark places, unexpected joys and mountaintop moments. There’s also an invisible thread that runs through it all—a thread I trust my own children will one day see. God’s character is constant, and His presence pursues me. 

The Old Testament book of Numbers is a kind of map. It is an account of Israel’s indirect journey from Mount Sinai to the Jordan River, the forty years between their rescue from Egypt and their arrival at the border of the promised land. Their wilderness wandering—a consequence of their disobedience—is testimony of God’s holiness. And it is a testimony of God’s faithfulness, the setting in which God demonstrates His unwavering commitment to His people by pursuing them with His presence. 

Numbers is a redemption story, but not just for the generation of Israelites who ate the manna and drank water from the rock. It is a redemption story for all nations and generations! Through the person and work of Jesus, we are all invited into the presence of the God whose holiness and compassion are like no other. Jesus Christ is the bread of life, the living water, the one whose perfect obedience redeems our wandering souls. 

Wherever you stand on the timeline of your life, I believe God will meet you here as we read His Word together. By the kindness and power of the Holy Spirit, may we come to understand more fully the beauty of obedience and the goodness of God’s grace. The Lord goes with us! Thanks be to Him.

Written by Amanda Bible Williams

They all asked the question. Those who walked the streets with Jesus, who encountered His teaching in the synagogues, who witnessed Him healing the sick and eating with sinners—they were compelled to understand who this man was. That was 2,000 years ago. And here we are, asking the same question today.

Even now, sitting in my Nashville office, surrounded by modern technology and Western comforts, I can think of no more foundational question to ask. The answer frames what I believe about God. It frames what I know about myself and how I view the world around me. And, on one hand, my response as a Christian is simple: Jesus is the Son of God. But because that is true, is there not infinitely more to know?

Theologian Charles Hodge said, “The gospel is so simple that small children can understand it, and it is so profound that studies by the wisest theologians will never exhaust its riches.” I believe he’s right, and I believe the same is true with the central figure of that gospel, the person of Jesus Christ. We cannot exhaust the depth of Him, but we can know Him.

The Gospel of Matthew is a great place to start.

Beginning with a genealogy, Matthew lays out his account of who Jesus is: the Messiah that the Jewish people—and the world—had been waiting for. He presents Jesus as the Son of God, born of the Holy Spirit, baptized by a prophet, and tempted by the devil. He shows Jesus as teacher, healer, servant, and friend—a man who walked the earth but was not bound by it.

In telling us who Jesus is, Matthew tells the story of our salvation.

It is a story written from the foundation of the world (Matthew 25:34). In these two chapters alone, our historian Matthew references five Old Testament prophecies fulfilled in Christ’s birth (1:22;2:5,15,17,23). He is Immanuel, “God with us,” the one who “will save his people from their sins” (1:23,21). Jesus is not just part of this story—He is the story.

I hope you’ll read along with us these next four weeks as we explore Matthew’s Gospel together and discover the true answers to that all-important question. Jesus is the Son of God. He is the Savior, the Christ, the Messiah.

This is the story Matthew tells. This is Jesus.

Our family lost the last of them this year, and my mom and I found ourselves immersed in my grandmother’s old photo albums. There in black and white stood the Sisters, as we call them, and a simple realization startled me. These wise, lovely, larger-than-life women from my earliest memories were not the otherworldly figures I always thought them to be. I couldn’t see it as a young girl, but now as a woman, not much younger than they were then, I can imagine the longings that must have lived underneath the laughter. Longings for painful relationships to be repaired, for ailing bodies to be healed, for deeply held hopes to become reality, for mounds of uncertainty to be overcome with surety. In my eyes the Sisters were strong and sure. But they were just like me, limping toward Christmas Day with an ache for restoration embedded in their hearts. 

I’ve been thinking of them as we prepare for another Advent, how each generation is united to those before and after by a bones-deep desire for everything to be made right. We see it throughout the Old Testament as God’s people waited for the Messiah. We hear its echo in the New Testament as the early Church waited for Christ’s return. And we feel it still today as we remember the birth of our Savior and look forward to His promised return. 

This is what the season of Advent is about: anticipating the birth of the One who meets every need. Jesus is the man from heaven who came to reconcile us to God. He is the bread of life who satisfies our deepest hunger. He is the King of the nations who brings the hope of heaven to the whole world. He is God with us, the only one worthy of our worship. 

This is our twelfth Advent as a She Reads Truth community, and I’m thrilled that you’re joining us! Together we will celebrate the season with food and song. We will decorate and anticipate. We will read the ancient prophecies of the Savior and rejoice in their fulfillment. And we will look with hope to the promised day when every nation and generation will know full and lasting peace in the presence of Jesus. 

O come, let us adore Him! For He alone is worthy—Christ the Lord.