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Meet Kris

As a sequin-wearing, homeschooling mother of four, Kris is passionate about Jesus, people and words. Her favorite room in the house is the kitchen, and she’s been known to take gratuitous pictures of her culinary creations, causing mouths to water all across Instagram. Once upon a time, she ran 10 miles to raise money for Compassion International. Kris is the author of,  Come, Lord Jesus: The Weight of Waiting and Holey, Wholly, Holy: A Lenten Journey of Refinement, and the follow up, Companion Workbook. She has contributed to numerous other books, is the Director of Refine {the retreat} and the founder and Executive editor of  GraceTable.org .

Books

Come, Lord Jesus

The Weight Of Waiting, 24 readings for ADVENT

HOLEY, WHOLLY, HOLY

A LENTEN JOURNEY OF REFINEMENT

Additional Writing

READ MORE FROM KRIS IN THESE BOOKS

THE LATEST FROM THE BLOG

Where Is My Rage, Safe?

The other day after listening to my friend recount a recent wounding at the hands of another, I felt the familiar surge of indignation rise in my gut. I quoted back to her the 6th verse of Psalm 58, O God, break the teeth in their mouths; tear out the fangs of the young lions,

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What Always Brings Us Back To The Table

If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen a number of poolside photos in my feed this summer. We spent the summer mostly by the pool. Those plastic loungers acted as a cradle of respite for me, a safe, uninterruptible space for me to wrestle with my angst related to community and a

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Writing As An Act Of Worship

Writing As An Act Of Worship The other day I spoke with my friend Kate about sharing my experience of self-publishing with you, and she asked me what worked well, and what was perhaps harder than I anticipated—she asked me if I saw self-publishing as a spiritual journey and I’ve thought hard about how to

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When It’s A Slow Transfiguration

A week ago I sunk my toes into the sugar-white sands in Destin, and tried hard to release the junk I’d carried with me to the sea. I wanted a transfiguration moment. I wanted a soul-shattering revelation that would send me home altered forever. I went there bone-dry, weary and in need of healing. But

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On Fighting Resistance And Leaning Into Rest

We sit on the deck overlooking the mountains, my girls blowing bubbles around me in a swirl of iridescent colors. The air is damp, a breeze shifts the bubbles this direction, then that way. The evening is as close to perfect as I could have imagined, watching the sun slip behind a veil of thick

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