On walking with Christ again

Plus some life updates and reflections about my time on Substack

Me and one of my dogs, Bear - Captured by Mary Claire Coleman ✨

Life has been really beautiful lately.

I’m grateful for this. Late spring has been filled with gorgeous days and a few storms, which by some miraculous grace have created even more gorgeous days. The blue false indigo (baptisia), yarrow, hydrangeas and honeysuckle are in full bloom. The birds have been active and hungry, so I’ve done my best to keep the feeders full.

Alex and I had the anniversary trip of a lifetime, met with warm sun, clear-blue oceans, Mayan ruins and delicious foods on the Yucatán peninsula. I determined while in Mexico that we ought to consider calling it the “Gulf of the Americas,” because that seems more true. But cooperation, collaboration, and shared visions for humanity don’t seem to be on anyone’s foreign policy agenda these days.

My fatigue about our political environment has been tempered by a few gentle boundaries with social media, and that includes Substack. I wish it wasn’t so, but these little screens and apps really do a number on the soul. I’m doing my best to stay engaged by following along with my favorite political news team, Pantsuit Politics, and echoing back to myself the words of one of my mentors: “We’ll respond to what actually happens. Not to conjecture.” Focusing on what’s real and happening, instead of on what’s not yet real and could be happening has given me a modicum of peace.

My spiritual and religious orientations have also firmly shifted Christ-ward, as I was received into the Eastern Orthodox Church on Palm Sunday. It’s still a strange admission on my tongue and I’ve brought countless doubts and questions with me. I’m learning the Christian life is just as much about holding space for our doubts and questions as it is about anything. Certainty, thankfully and perhaps obviously, is not a prerequisite for a life of faith. A willingness to be honest, to learn, to trust, and to change our minds is what’s needed.

In the midst of this welcomed and life-giving transition, the label “Christian” continues to generate stress and sadness in me. Sarah Bessey articulates this tension remarkably well, and I’ve held her words close as I’ve reflected on my own deep disappointment with how those who call themselves Christians are showing up in the world today. I can’t do much about it, so I pray for the Lord’s mercy, and I echo the words of St. Ephraim: O Lord and King, grant me to see my own transgressions, and not to judge my brother. There’s something empowering and clear-eyed about focusing on what is within the realm of my influence and control, namely my own harmful proclivities and choices. Dwelling with my own failures and shortcomings is more than enough to keep me occupied, even as my concern about the harmful choices of others looms large.

These firm changes in my spiritual life, coupled with the magic of these near-summer days, has me revisiting my purpose and intentions for being here, on Substack, writing to you. I started this journey nearly three years ago. I was on the other side of my deconstruction journey and piecing together a new spiritual life rooted in my body’s wisdom, in the rhythms of the natural world, and in an expansive and creative view of the holy. Writing here on Substack was my way of working through this process in public, giving language to my evolving faith and inviting you to slow down and center the sacred alongside me.

As I look to the future, especially with a new religious orientation, I believe some aspects of my former expression will remain. I still live at Cedar Wilde, a one-acre parcel of land in rural Middle Georgia where my husband and I are making a good and peaceful life. I still love living seasonally, planting flowers, and watching the birds. I’m still a working woman, leading a non-profit and doing my best to embody rhythms of productivity that honor my limits. I’m still interested in politics, culture, and who we are becoming as a society. I’m also still deeply invested in spirituality, contemplation, and soul care. These things are still true. The only real change is that for all my angst and disdain about the label, I’m firmly a Christian now. And an Orthodox one at that.

Writing online to a community of readers has at times felt to me like sending letters into a void. Given the asynchronicity of these exchanges, it’s tough to feel as though we are truly in conversation with one another. But we are in conversation. This is a relationship. We do get to know each other in bits and pieces. I’m sharing these faith updates with you because you are, to some degree, my community. It’s important to me that you know who I really am.

I don’t know for sure how this space will evolve over the coming months. I’m praying about it and discerning what’s next for my creative and spiritual work in general. Here are a few things I do know:

One, I will keep writing because it’s oxygen to me. I don’t know how often I’ll post or when, nor do I have clarity about the topics, but I do know if God wills it, I’ll keep showing up.

Two, I have a book coming out on March 3, 2026, which happens to be the day before my 36th birthday! My book has been titled, A More Beautiful Way to Live: Nine Practices to Unlearn Habits of Anxiety, Fear, and Urgency. It tells the story of my professional burnout and subsequent recovery through practices like slowing down, living seasonally, listening to one’s body and more. I’m incredibly proud of it and can’t wait to share the cover with you soon.

Three, I’m still a spiritual director, but rather than holding space for spiritual lives generally, I’m specifically interested in walking alongside women who are also moving Christ-ward, rebuilding or deepening their faith within the Christian tradition, and are seeking spiritual companionship for their journey. If this sounds like you or if you’re curious about what this could look like, send me an email (hello@bethaneywilkinson.com) and we’ll find a time to chat.

Peace has been among the most elusive pursuits of my lifetime.

Anxiety, hyper-vigilance, and fear have been my norm, as I imagine is the case for many of us. Defining, exploring, and creating A More Beautiful Way has largely been a quest for peace, for rest, and for a sense of control and meaning in world that often feels like it’s spiraling further and further into disarray. There’s so much to be worried about, personally and collectively. I believe there’s a reason Jesus told his beloved friends, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

He knew we’d need it, a peace so healing and so complete that it could only come from another world.

Whether your life right now is full of gorgeous days or tumultuous storms, my sincere prayer for you is that you would know the peace Christ gives, and that it would drastically and beautifully reorient everything for your good.

Until next time, your friend,

Bethaney