2021 in Books

Books have a way of keeping me afloat. Sometimes that looks like a life raft, a comfort-read I can cling to when life’s waves get stormy. Other times they expand my horizons, carrying me to places I’ve never been before. Every page is its own tiny voyage. In 2021, I waded through 8 novels, 5 collections of poetry, and 6 books of the Bible. I’d love to tell you about my favorites.

Memoirs proved to be particularly seaworthy vessels. My first read of the year was Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey. This book made me fall in love with living. Who knew an actor’s real life could be even more exciting than a blockbuster film? I usually like to transcribe my favorite quotes from the books I read into my journal, but this work was so deeply personal that it almost felt intrusive to do so. Honest, philosophical, and downright cinematic, Greenlights is as fascinating as it is lovely. 

“I found myself right where I left me.” —Matthew McConaughey

Now that I write poetry myself, reading the work of other poets has become a beacon for me, guiding my own art back to shore. This year, I was so grateful to be a beta reader for On a Tuesday in April, written by my Instagram friend Grace M. Wells. This collection is a must-read for anyone who has ever had their heart broken (so, like, everyone). I also found some really cool chapbooks in a tiny bookstore in Taos, New Mexico. Last but definitely not least, I had to throw in some powerhouse poets. Honeybee by Trista Mateer will literally transport you in time, and suddenly you’re 19 again, going through your first big breakup. Homebody by Rupi Kaur filled me up like a good meal. Reading Kaur’s work felt like feeding myself with nourishing reminders that I am loved and good and strong. 

I debated including On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong in the paragraph above because it’s almost more poetry than novel. This genre-bending work spans poetry, memoir, and fiction—historical and contemporary—to create probably the most beautiful book I’ve ever read. I already loved Vuong for his poetry (might I recommend Night Sky with Exit Wounds), and this book only magnified my admiration for his prose.

I pray the day never comes that I grow out of young adult fiction, but luckily, I am far from it. Alex, Approximately by Jenn Bennett was this year’s ultimate comfort-read. This fast-paced, young-love story was so delightful that I finished it in a day. It follows two teenagers who start crushing on each other both online and in real life without knowing it’s the same person. Dramatic irony? Count me in. I also finally read Delirium by Lauren Oliver. My favorite quotes from this YA modern classic were surprisingly spiritual. I guess you can’t help but brush up against God when you really start talking about Love. 

“This is what people are always talking about when they talk about God: this feeling, of being held and understood and protected. Feeling this way seems about as close to saying a prayer as you could get.” —Lauren Oliver

Okay, I’m running out of ocean metaphors. This means it’s time to try to describe some of my indescribable favorites. Let’s talk about People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry. Full disclosure: the whole best-friends-falling-in-love trope has me in a chokehold. This romance novel checks every single box and then some. Henry’s superpower is that she curates those small, romantic, will-they-won’t-they moments with mastery, so much so that reading this story had me out of my seat, doing actual laps because I just could not contain my delight. Please, please, please read this book. 

“My heart tripped over its next beat.” —Emily Henry

(also me, the entire time I was reading People We Meet on Vacation)

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens is another incredible novel. The prose is both diligent and dazzling in the way it details the intricacies of the natural landscape in which our protagonist, Kya, makes a home. Owens’ writing is so beautiful that the book almost doesn’t need a plot, but she gifts us with a storyline just as compelling as the setting. The strength that Kya cultivates from her connection with the land will fill you with wonder. If you like nature, read this book. If you don’t, read it anyway. You could probably use the literary fresh air like I did. 

“Standing in the most fragile place of her life, she turned to the only net she knew—herself.” —Delia Owens

Owens’ lovely quote brings me to my favorite book of 2021, which was Know My Name by Chanel Miller. This poignant memoir took me a long time to finish—for good reason. You cannot rush healing, nor should you. I felt indebted to Miller for her generosity in letting readers into the darkest period of her life as she navigated a high-profile sexual assault case. With care, honesty, and strength, Miller led me through the ins and outs of a broken justice system, the complexity of trauma, and the beautiful, almost paradoxical nature of the path toward healing. What compelled me most about Know My Name was that the assault was not the bedrock of the story Chanel was telling: she was. Through and through, this is a book about Chanel first, about her humor, her resilience, and her love for the people in her life. Her dignity could not be taken away, not for a single page. To say I am blown away by her strength is an understatement. I strongly recommend this book, but please take care of yourself if you choose to read it and do be mindful of the content warnings (such as sexual assault, suicide, and violence). 

“I have created a self inside the suffering.” —Chanel Miller

Finally, for me, one of the biggest parts of my reading life is the Bible itself. I jumped around a bit, which helped connect a lot of dots for me between the Old Testament and the New Testament. Ecclesiastes cracks me up because it is objectively one of the most depressing books in the Bible, but when I read it, I found it to be quite encouraging. It takes the philosophical weight off of your shoulders to find meaning in life by reassuring you that these worldly troubles don’t last. This sentiment echoes in Paul’s letter of Philippians, where he examines the joy to be found in times of suffering. Song of Songs and Hosea taught me about the depth and complexity of God’s love for us, using some pretty shocking metaphors at times! This year, I had been using a Bible-in-a-year plan that was organized thematically rather than chronologically, which I personally found to be a very helpful approach at the time.

Until next time, keep looking in and looking up (and reading good books!). <3

—Lexy

A Biblical Case for Feeling Your Feelings

NOTE: I am not a mental health professional. While this post discusses certain aspects of mental health, it is heavily influenced by my personal (unqualified!) experiences. If you need mental health services, talk to a licensed professional. We love those guys!

I’ve struggled with anxiety—and a dash of depression—for over a third of my life. For any of you who have experienced your own mental health struggles, you know how disheartening and debilitating it can be. Even if you’ve never dealt with mental illness, don’t you worry. Life itself beats us all down at one point or another. (I’m chuckling at how sad and dark this intro is. I promise we are on a hopeful trajectory.)

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned in therapy is that I have a bad habit of judging my own emotions. I get very critical of myself for feelings I can’t control. Why haven’t you moved on from him yet? What are you sad about now? Why haven’t you gotten out of bed yet? Why is this tiny, tiny thing making you anxious? Why can’t you just let it go? Have you had similar thoughts before? 

Outside influences can bring their own criticisms. It can feel like the world wants our feelings to fit into neat, little boxes, complete with a happy bow. “How are you?” is more greeting than question. The productivity juggernaut of Western society doesn’t seem to care about your wellbeing, so long as you meet your quota. 

Sadly, this critical attitude has permeated corners of the Church as well. “Just pray about it” Band-Aids are often slapped onto anxiety and depression. Prolonged struggles are met with questions about the adequacy of your faith. I think we’ve gotten some things backward. 

The joy of the Lord doesn’t always look like happiness and a smile. Sometimes it looks like curling up in a ball at the feet of Jesus and trusting Him in the midst of the chaos. 

Emotions are not inherently good or bad. They are simply signals, reactions to the world around us. It’s what we do with them and how we channel that energy that can help or harm us. 

When we make ourselves feel bad for feeling bad, it just becomes a ten-car pile-up on Feel Like Crap Highway. Let that emotional traffic flow freely, friend. (Do we love or hate this analogy? I’m rolling with it. Ha, rolling!)

While I was thinking about all of this, the Spirit reminded me how Jesus handled big feelings. Here’s what we need to understand: He’s been there, and He gets it. 

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. 

Hebrews 4:15

The beauty of Jesus is that He is fully God and fully man. He knows what it’s like to be human, and to be human is to hurt and love and grieve and rejoice and everything in between. All over the gospels, we see Jesus grappling with these very human emotions, and in living His life the way He did, we are given the power, permission, and blessing to do the same. 

He felt grief when his friend Lazarus passed away, and He wasn’t afraid to express it. At the sight of Mary of Bethany, Lazarus’ sister, mourning, Jesus was moved. 

“33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 34 ‘Where have you laid him?’ he asked. ‘Come and see, Lord,’ they replied. 35 Jesus wept. 36 Then the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’”

John 11:33-36

On the night before His execution, our Lord was overwhelmed, fearful, and anxious, pleading with His closest friends to stay awake with Him on the hardest night of His life. 

“Then he said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.’”

Matthew 26:38

In a sermon on Exploring My Strange Bible, Pastor Tim Mackie actually posits that Jesus had a panic attack right here in the Garden of Gethsemane. Whether you ascribe to that particular interpretation or not, the intensity and anguish of the moment is indisputable. If you’re curious, you should really give this sermon a listen. It gave me such a greater depth of love and appreciation for Jesus. 

Our Lord is not a robot. Jesus felt righteous anger when He cleared the temple courts (Matthew 21:12-17). He felt hunger (Matthew 4:2). He experienced homelessness (Luke 9:58). Of course, Jesus’ life wasn’t just one big downer. His life is also the culmination of all the fruit of the Spirit, and He is the epitome of love, joy, and peace. 

The assurance that we can take from the life of Jesus is that it is okay not to be okay sometimes. When you want to cry, it’s okay to cry. When you feel depressed, it’s okay if all you can do that day is brush your teeth. When your anxiety has its hand around your throat, it’s okay to be afraid. If you are prescribed medication for a chemical imbalance in your brain, let’s rejoice for the blessing of medicine and care providers and a chance at some healing. 

The most beautiful part of it all is that when Jesus found Himself in dark places, He did not allow the heaviness to consume Him. In fact, His response is always to come to the Father. If you are a Jesus follower, I’d invite you to do the same. 

Wherever your inner emotional world is today, I’m here to tell you that your feelings are valid. It’s okay not to be okay. Lean on the people around you. Lean on God Himself. Take a moment to read the full story from some of the Bible passages in this post. I have a feeling you’ll feel less alone afterward. 

Until next time, keep looking in and looking up (and feeling your feelings!). <3

—Lexy

An Ode to Podcasts

If you hang out here long enough, you’ll learn pretty quickly how much I love podcasts. Half of my sentences begin with, “So I was listening to this podcast…” and I’m sure my friends are sick of it by now. Any podcast enthusiast will tell you how wonderful they are. These delightful shows serve up the very best storytelling, the funniest jokes, the purest motivation, the saddest realities, the most profound epiphanies, and everything in between. 

Something else you’re gonna learn about me is that I can get sentimental about anything, and podcasts are no exception. I fell in love with podcasts as I was starting college. In a lot of ways, they accompanied me into adulthood. There are a handful of shows that I have subscribed to for a few years now. Like ticks on a door frame, I charted my growth along with their milestone episodes. I have been guilty of talking about podcast hosts like I actually know them, but I can’t help it! On Girls Night, Stephanie May Wilson greeted me as her friend with such kindness and conviction that I really started to believe it. The attachment is real—when Meghna Chakrabarti announced that she would no longer be hosting the Modern Love podcast, I probably could’ve written a Modern Love essay on that heartbreak. I have many memories of eating in the Student Union by myself, but I wasn’t really alone. I had the hosts of The RELEVANT Podcast to keep me company and make me laugh out loud between bites. I bet giggling into my Chick-fil-A was a great look for me.

While I have plenty of light-hearted memories connected to podcast listening, they’ve also lowkey saved my life. There was a specific day during my sophomore year of college when a season of depression had pulled me down lower than I had ever been. I was sitting in my empty apartment, blinds shut and lights off, with too many hours to fill. I just remember thinking, How am I possibly going to make it through another day like this? When I picked up my phone, God had mercifully sent me a podcast. One of my favorite shows at the time had put out a new episode, which was a miracle in itself because of their sporadic posting schedule—no shade. I love you guys. (In case you’re wondering, it’s this obscure, magical One Tree Hill recap podcast called One Tree Will. It gives me life.) That day, they delivered a new episode for the first time in months, and it was the very day that I needed it most. God’s funny that way, isn’t he? He demonstrated his mercy for me through a podcast about a cheesy CW teen drama. It was pretty beautiful. 

Podcasts have rocked me to sleep. They have connected me to fellow listeners. On road trips back home from college, they have kept me safe. In so many ways, they are gifts. 

Even so, the greatest gift that podcasts have given me is a deeper capacity for empathy. Nothing in my life has stretched me more than listening to podcasts created by people who look, believe, and live differently than me. Something important to keep in mind: this didn’t happen by accident. With any media outlet, echo chambers are so enticing. We curate our social media feeds, news sources, books, and even friendships to perfectly align with our own ideologies. Podcasts are no different. For a long time, all of my podcast subscriptions were very safe. Very apolitical. Very Christian. Of course, there is nothing inherently wrong with listening to any of these shows, but I wasn’t growing. Even though I was learning new things, each idea fit a little too perfectly into my rigid filing system. They could be labeled easily, ready for painless consumption. 

Slowly but surely, though, my podcasts did start to branch out. I was being gently introduced to all of these new ideas that I had never—and would have never—bumped into before. Thanks to these beloved audio files, I met different kinds of people, heard new ideas, and tried on new eyes to see the world through. 

Here is the beauty of listening to a podcast: you can’t talk back. It turns out that when you are literally incapable of responding to an idea, you have no choice but to listen, and what a gift that is. From these seeds, empathy sprouted up in my life with the ferocity of a weed and the quiet beauty of a rose bud. Hand in hand with my blooming friend, I became a lot more comfortable with facing new ideas about culture, politics, and even faith. Podcasts were a safe space to challenge my ignorance. They rarely ever felt like lectures or arguments. Instead, they were interviews, stories, and beautiful narratives woven from the truths and experiences of other people’s lives. 

As Knox and Jamie like to put it on The Bible Binge, this post has reached its own “So What, Who Cares?” segment. What it really comes down to for me is this overwhelming sense of gratitude. It’s way too easy to find the flaws in the media we consume, and of course, there is plenty of harmful content out there to avoid. At the same time, though, I love finding the blessings in it too. The joy of the Lord can show up anywhere. He is there when you’re watching your favorite band in concert and the bass in your bones reminds you that you are alive. He is there in the movie theater (remember those?) as strangers connect through the beauty of collective laughter. He is even there when you’re curled up in your sad apartment, listening to a podcast in an attempt to feel less alone.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”

James 1:17

Podcasts have been so many things for me. They have taught, challenged, shaped, encouraged, buoyed, and saved me in so many instances. Above all, they’ve reminded me that my Father in heaven loves me so. 

I hope you are reminded of every good gift the Lord has given you, all the way down to the dumb joke you heard today that made you laugh. His presence really is everywhere. All you have to do is look. 

Until next time, keep looking in and looking up (and listening to podcasts!). <3

—Lexy

How the Heck I Got Here

This blog was never supposed to exist. It’s a miracle you are even reading this post right now, friend. Somewhere along the road of my life, the world tricked me into believing that my voice didn’t matter. I was the quintessential “quiet one” of any and every group. As a teenager, I was completely locked inside myself. Fear was a constant companion, and anxiety had an unbreakable hold on me. Even though I had grown up learning about Jesus, I had tried to take on life’s battles all by myself. It reached a point where there was always a war going on in my mind and my nervous system. 

I can’t voice my opinion. What if someone disagrees with me?

I can’t raise my hand in class. What if my answer is wrong?

I can’t share my writing. What if the reader doesn’t like it?

I can’t express doubt. What if that makes me a bad Christian?

I can’t start a blog. What if no one cares about what I have to say?

I have a feeling that you have had similar thoughts before. It’s okay—we’re all human here. We all struggle with doubt, fear, and imposter syndrome. We’ve all been afraid to speak up, stand up, or be the first one. Welcome to the Being Human Club, friend. In case you haven’t heard it in a while, there is nothing wrong with you. I’m so glad you’re here with me. 

Throughout high school and into college, I was on a rollercoaster of debilitating anxiety, bouts of depression, and a deeply rooted fear of being myself. My life had become so emotionally tangled that by the end 2019, I had reached my breaking point. But sometimes we have to break, friend. As it turns out, God loves to show up in our brokenness with His arms wide open. 

Heartbroken, spiritually drained, and with nothing but time on my hands, I finally cracked open my Bible again. I’m sure it’s frustrating for God, the way I only draw near to Him when everything is falling apart. I always treated Him like the last resort to happiness when all else had failed me. Even so, the Lord was gracious to me. He met me right there, right in my dorm room between the pages of my Bible. It kind of breaks my heart to know that He was waiting there for me all along, but He greeted me as if I had never left. It was a real life prodigal son moment (Luke 15:11-32). 

At this low point in my life, I finally realized that I just didn’t have it in me to save myself. When God intervened, He picked me up, dusted me off, took my hand, and has walked with me every day since. And here is the good news—He wants to do the same for you!

With God’s newfound presence in my life, I’ve been on my own wild and wonderful journey of Looking In and Looking Up. 

Looking In is all about introspection, which looks different for everybody. For me, it meant taking care of my mental health. It meant embracing my introversion instead of fighting against it. It meant writing like crazy—the thing I love to do the most. It meant learning to love myself for the child of God that I am, flaws and all. For you, maybe it looks like taking more risks. Maybe you need to challenge some preconceived notions that you hold or learn how to feel comfortable in your own skin. Maybe there are past mistakes that you gotta forgive yourself for. 

Looking Up is all about growing closer to Jesus. Nothing in life can satisfy like He can. Whether your spirit needs more rest, Scripture, prayer time, solitude, or community, the Lord shows up in all of it. For me, diving headfirst into the Bible was exactly what I needed to reconnect with God after being distant from Him for so long. You are probably going to hear me say this a million times, but READ YOUR BIBLES, DUDES. The beautiful words on those pages will give you more wisdom and insight than this blog ever, ever could. 

Let’s be real. Neither of these things are easy. Sure, they’re fruitful, but they can be oh, so painful. I hated getting up close and personal with all of the messy parts of myself. I hated relinquishing control of my life over to God. But friend, I promise you can trust the Lord with all of you. He can handle all of your feelings and all of your fears. 

So that’s what got me here—a whole lot of reflecting and a whole lot more of Jesus. I do not have this all figured out, and I don’t think I ever will. I’m just here to talk your ear off about God’s faithfulness in my life. I pray that you experience the same fullness of joy that He brings me. I can’t wait to share what He’s been teaching me, ask the hard questions, and engage with uncomfortable topics in genuine and loving ways. I hope you’ll join me on this journey. 

This blog is a big, fat here goes nothing. I don’t know what God’s plans are for this little corner of the Internet, but I’m so grateful to be a part of it. The only reason I have anything worth saying or the courage to say it is because of Him. 

Friend, congratulations on making it the end of this post! I seriously cannot thank you enough for reading this. This one was a little heavy, but thank you for giving me this space. I’m a very joyful person, I promise! Maybe this was just an opportunity for me to be vulnerable so that you can do the same. I hope you feel seen here. I hope you feel God here. I hope your empathy blooms here. 

Until next time, keep looking in and looking up. <3

—Lexy