“Art can be seen as not hostile to faith, but as practice for it. Building the muscle of imagination makes us better fit to believe. And love, the central command of faith, requires enormous imagination, to understand the life, feelings, or needs of someone else” -Carey Wallace It’s because I’ve been deeply affected by good books that I enjoy making art on pages too. When we write, we engage imagination. When we read, we open to the experience of letting another soul’s imagination stir our own. Books are the most patient teachers. They never demand to be read. If you’ve had your fill for the day, they are content to rest in the corner for however long you need—whether a day, or a month. In a book, I step inside another’s mind, made available for me to enjoy or consider. But I can leave anytime I need to. I’m grateful for many people who chose to put their thoughts on paper, knowing they leave their readers with this gift. During the release of Stepping Home, I want to share some books I’ve been taught by—teachers I drew from while I wrote my book about belonging. I’ll share them in the order they appear in the endnotes of Stepping Home. The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses by C. S. Lewis To be honest, I’ve only read one of the other addresses, but “The Weight of Glory” is a must-read for any seeking soul. While originally shared as a sermon, it would never do for this to not be available in writing. I received this book as a birthday gift several years ago and savored every word of this sermon. Lewis puts language to desire in a way that soothes my fears, awakens my yearnings, clarifies my wants, and leaves me feeling free to let my heart come alive. Placemaker by Christie Purifoy I learned about Christie from an author I follow. Christie writes about trees and homes almost like they’re full of dreams—as if they are always open for us to help them bear a reflection of our perfect, eternal home. She leads her reader to see the physical places we share as tender invitations into the art of partnering with our Creator. Her love for magnolias and maples, and her soul-deep ache to tend well to the places that shelter her people, made me see life in our farmhouse home with new eyes. The Soul of Desire by Curt Thompson, MD I heard Curt Thompson interviewed on a podcast and needed to read his book. I read The Soul of Desire right after one of my biggest personal failures. It stirred my imagination for a hopeful future. Thompson explores the science behind our yearning humanity and our need for connection, and he considers it from a perspective of faith as well. His book gave me both scientific and biblical reasons to see my ever-searching heart, not as defective, but as beautifully made and capable of coming to trust and believe in the goodness God has in store. The Meaning of Marriage by Timothy Keller with Kathy Keller Nano and I did this study with a church small group. It’s a grounding, relatable guide that validates the human longing for companionship and takes great care in addressing the obstacles of attachment and commitment. What gave it the most value to me is how it stayed in tune with the desires of the reader and acknowledged our humanity with frankness. Marital conflict and sexual struggles were handled with candor and grace. It prompted good self-reflection. And it did a beautiful job of connecting the needs of marriage, in all aspects, with the work of Christ—both in laying Himself down for His bride, the church, and in submitting Himself to the Father. The Listening Life by Adam S. McHugh This is also a book I learned about from an author I follow. I’ve never read a better book about listening. Every time I read it, I remember how healing it feels to be listened to, and how powerful a gift we share when we choose to listen intentionally. McHugh walks his reader through the art of living life with a posture that holds space—to hear what lies beneath the surface of our lives and those around us. Whenever I return to McHugh’s words, I feel exposed in my need to listen, and also gently led to a richer place. Ideally, I’d like to read this book at least once a year to help myself remember. Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton I read this as part of a course I took on contemplative spirituality. In a noisy world, Barton invites her reader to slow down on the inside and embrace rhythms of solitude and stillness. She helped me learn beautiful ways to savor and experience Scripture when I need a break from diagrams and intellectualism. She connects deeply with desire, encouraging her reader to know that the longing for more is valid and worth our deep attention. The Path of Loneliness by Elisabeth Elliot The summer after I turned eighteen, I ran across this book for sale at an event. The title drew me in because I felt deeply alone. I’ve read a few of Elisabeth Elliot’s books and this is my very favorite. While not every page resonates with me, this book as a whole reaches me at my core every time I read it. It comforts me, convicts me and leads me to embrace the gifts that lie along the path of lonely places. While a good bit of what she writes comes from her two experiences of being widowed, Elliot’s words are deeply applicable to any kind of lonely season. Dear White Peacemakers by Osheta Moore Osheta wrote this after George Floyd’s death, and lovingly addressed it to her white brothers and sisters in Christ. In a way, she speaks to Christians who want to help bring us away from racism as a culture, but would like to know more about what it feels like to be in someone else’s shoes. I ran across her book online and wanted to learn from her perspective. She dives deep into the art of balancing grit and grace in the desire for peace. I find so much in her words that helps me consider more deeply, from a biblical perspective, what it means to listen, to repent, to take accountability and to embrace ways that make for peace. Spiritual Direction by Henri Nouwen This was originally a discourse Nouwen shared that was turned into a book after his lifetime—by one of his students, and by his editor. I came across it at a bookstore. I found it to be deeply refreshing in helping me hold space to listen to the voice of the Spirit of God. Nouwen addresses how we can create better space for this in our hearts, in Scripture, and in church community. While reading, I felt encouraged in my identity in Christ, and challenged to plainly see things I chase after for the wrong reasons. Not every teaching in the book was for me—and as for anything, I’d encourage testing this book through the lens of Scripture. Praying God’s Word by Beth Moore In Stepping Home , I share the story of how I stumbled upon an old stained copy of this book on the day I turned 29. The next morning Beth’s words had me in tears. In a kind way, she helped me to be pricked by Scripture, which prepared my heart to be faced a few days later with a difficult truth from a sermon that I needed to hear. This book is a helpful guide to using Scripture to pray through various struggles in life—from rejection, to idolatry, to despair. For each specific difficulty, Beth speaks into your heart, then provides words to help you in prayer—prayers she’s written based on specific Scripture. Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortlund I learned about this book while sitting in church. I found myself so hungry to hear what Scripture shares about the gentle heart of Jesus that when I finished the book, I turned back to the beginning and read the whole book through again. Ortlund shares the profound truth that when Jesus describes his own heart, the two words He chooses are “gentle and lowly.” This book is full of Scriptural assurance for the sinner, the doubter, the one who lives with fear and guilt. It does a thorough job of reaching into the reader’s heart, and carefully showing from Scripture how deeply God’s heart longs to meet His children where they are. The Holy Longing by Ronald Rolheiser While I wouldn’t agree with Rolheiser on many things, I find so much rich truth in his perspective, so much to gain and learn from. Most every time I hear him quoted, his words strike me to my core, and books about longing will always catch my attention. He speaks to our felt sense that our passion and our spirituality are at odds with each other. He invites his reader to consider how our longing, even our sexuality, is interconnected with our spirituality. Rolheiser invites his reader to come to the table of spirituality as a whole person, where our passionate parts can learn to thrive in healthy ways. I haven’t finished reading his book, and again, encourage discernment. Each of these books have met me in deep places. To share about them all stirs my memories and my gratitude for the means God uses to meet us. Perhaps one or two of these are books God has used, or will use, to meet you too. These twelve books all play a role in my own written journey. If you’d like to read a book that combines these ideas, that’s what you’ll find when you read Stepping Home. How do we engage in faith without pretending away the desiring, aching, yearning parts of us? It’s a healthy question to sit with, one that invites authenticity. I don’t promise black and white answers, but I share my favorite ways God has met me in this question. I’m so happy to share about the gift that is open for all—the gift of always having the option to take another step toward Home. "Stepping Home by Maggie Janaye" is available now through Amazon and other retailers.

On a chilly November day in 2018, I woke up feeling heavy with the weight of disappointment and unanswered questions. I had taken so many risks over the last several months—emotional risks that left me feeling exposed and empty. Could life go anywhere good from here? I reached for my Bible and ended up in Psalm 121. “I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber.” I locked onto verse three. “He will not let your foot be moved.” This is what I longed for—to trust that God had me…and that life could be more than a downhill tumble from here. Tears came, because I wanted to believe the words I read, but I wasn’t sure where to find the faith. I journaled a prayer, and told Nano about my wish to believe with more sureness that this could be true for my life. He listened while he finished shaving, then gave me hope to borrow. Over the next hour, I bundled my children in their hoodies and delivered them to their teachers—then made my weekly trip to Jo’s for coffee and a day of writing. Like every Wednesday morning, I greeted the familiar coffee shop faces, and ordered the signature latte. I found my favorite table by the window—bright with warm sunshine. I opened my journal to where I left off that morning. My wish continued to stir. I felt scared my heart was defective, and I longed for more light to guide me to hope. Around mid-morning, a low voice spoke to me—the man who just walked in the front door. I looked up to see twinkling eyes and an unfamiliar, fuzzy face. Ears tucked into his beanie, he approached me with a teddy-bear-like presence. With a careful slowness while he read my face, he placed his hand on the table in front of me. He said he hoped it didn’t come across the wrong way, but when he walked in the door and saw me, something urged him to come share a message. “I think you’re supposed to know that God says your heart is beautiful. And He is putting all of its broken pieces back together.” I felt a bit unsure, but curious, so I listened on. He continued for some time and I don’t remember everything, but I do remember these words, “You can trust that your help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved.” While he spoke, my eyes misted over. God sees me. When I heard him speak the words of Psalm 121, say them aloud, I knew God said yes to my prayer. He didn’t hesitate to help my unbelief. I learned the man’s name to be Chris, and I shared about my morning while drying my eyes. He smiled with the jolliest smile and said he just knew he was supposed to say something. I asked for a picture with him to help myself remember the moment. In the last seven years, I’ve seen him maybe five times. Jo’s is the only place I’ve ever seen him and he always has timely words of courage to share. He is one of the many reasons I love local coffee shops. In the light of Jo’s front window, I’ve put dreams onto paper, poured prayers into journals, and have met the image of God in dozens of caring people. At least a couple times a month, I still return to Jo’s to see if I can find a seat at my favorite writing table. When I settle into that old, familiar place and look around, my heart fills with memories of the faithfulness of God. It fills me to return to that moment and the place it happened. There are no supernatural qualities to that table or that building, but the act of returning there is an intentional practice that grounds me. It’s a tangible way to bring my heart back to a place where it’s easy to remember: I am loved and seen by a God who knows me.