Six months ago I decided to stop skimming my Bible reading plan and just sit in the Psalms until they were done — however long that took. It has taken a lot longer than I expected, and taught me more than I bargained for.

There is something about reading someone else’s raw prayers, written thousands of years ago, that makes my own morning coffee-and-five-minutes routine feel a little less lonely. Some mornings it’s two verses. Some mornings it’s twenty. I am learning that consistency matters more than length, and that waiting well is its own kind of faith.