For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.

It’s early. The horizon is just now turning pink, the dark canopy overhead fading to a moody blue-gray that is reflected on snowy field. Fire is noisily burning while oldest son occupies the choice seat on its hearth, reading Acts by the light of flicker and flame.

I sit with my journal, Bible, planner, and the laptop that gives me instant access to Naves and Strongs and countless translations. This is my routine, and while it is disrupted now and again, it’s the baseline I return to. I dump the noisy nagging of my brain onto planner and push it away — no more, be done, time for still. I open my journal and awkwardly pen “2022.” It’ll take approximately 11 more months for that to feel normal, just in time for “2023” to make its entrance. My journal has been woefully ignored this last year, and I am determined to recover that habit. I love to flip through the pages and be reminded of the prayers I prayed, the struggles large and small, the testimonies to accompany those. And so I write.

A head cold that passed quickly: thankful.
William’s knee, still sore and swollen: praying, asking.
Another regular school day dawning, the third in a row!: testimony

I am, of late, studying “peace” in the Bible. Today landed me in Romans 14, and so I read verses 17-19, read the chapter, check the Greek, read it in other translations. And I mull it over, deeply aware that whatever this all means, it’s attainable only through the transforming work of the Holy Spirit in my life.

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.”

The kingdom of heaven is never about what I bring, but about the supernatural move of God in my heart. I am struck by this. Yes, righteousness and peace and joy work themselves out through my doing and my decisions and my convictions, but those doings and decisions and convictions are not THE kingdom of God, but rather its outworking. The wellspring of life bubbling up within — that’s the precious thing. Lean into that. Guard that. Oh, for more and more of that!

Baby cries, little girls wake, and clock says it’s time for breakfast preparations. We will honor the Lord today in what we do, eating and drinking and working as unto Him, but with hearts that are hungry for His Kingdom come: Righteousness, peace, and joy in abundance.