I have a new book out, and this post is a straightforward explanation of what it is, why it exists, and why I think it belongs on your shelf—or more precisely, in your clients' hands.
Grace for the Scattered Mind: Six Spiritual Disciplines for Living Well with ADHD is available now on Amazon in paperback and Kindle editions.
Christians with ADHD are usually offered two kinds of help, and both leave something out.
The first comes from the church, and at its worst it sounds like this: if you can't sit still in prayer, focus during the sermon, or finish your Bible reading plan, the problem is your devotion. Try harder. Care more. This counsel ignores the body entirely. It treats a neurodevelopmental condition as a character deficiency, and it sends people away carrying shame on top of distraction. Most of us in clinical practice have sat across from the wreckage this produces.
The second comes from the broader ADHD literature, much of which is genuinely excellent on skills and strategies but has nothing to say about the life of faith. The Christian with ADHD is left to run two parallel programs—one for the brain, one for the soul—as if those were separate departments of the person.
They are not. That conviction is the spine of the book. An incarnational anthropology insists that the person who struggles to pray is the same person whose prefrontal cortex regulates attention, and that God's means of grace meet that whole person, body included.
The book is built around six classical spiritual disciplines—the breath prayer, meditating on the Word, confession, silence and solitude, keeping the Sabbath, and simplicity. These are not productivity hacks with verses attached. They are the historic practices of the church, each traced to its place in Scripture and its lineage in church history, from the desert fathers to the Reformers.
The structure is deliberately ADHD-friendly:
Part One teaches each discipline in a short chapter: what it is, where it appears in the Bible, where it comes from historically, why it is genuinely hard for an ADHD brain, and how to begin. No chapter overstays its welcome.
Part Two is the workbook—sixty guided sessions, ten per discipline, each exactly one page. One page is not a design accident. It is the clinical insight applied to format: a reader with ADHD needs a finish line visible from the starting line. Each session holds a brief teaching focus, a Scripture anchor, two reflection prompts, a concrete practice step, and a prayer.
The back matter includes a 30-day plan, common questions, and a section written for spouses and family members of readers with ADHD.
Theologically, the book refuses the therapeutic reflex of telling readers there is nothing wrong with them. The opening chapter is titled "Broken Like Everyone Else," because that is the actual gospel position: every reader of this book is fallen, and so is its author. ADHD is one form the groaning of creation takes (Romans 8), not a special exemption from it and not a special condemnation under it. That framing turns out to be far more freeing than flattery. Shame loses its leverage when brokenness is universal and grace is sufficient.
Clinically, the book is honest about what ADHD is and is not. It does not claim the condition is only inborn wiring—chronic stress and trauma can produce and worsen attentional symptoms, and the book says so. It is unembarrassed about medication and treats faith and medicine as allies rather than rivals. And it makes the dual-register argument readers of this blog will recognize: the disciplines are means of grace, and they are also, observably, attention training and nervous-system regulation. Breath prayer slows the breath. Silence lowers input. Sabbath downshifts an overdriven system. Naming the physiology does not reduce the practice to technique—God is not a relaxation app—but pretending the physiology isn't there would be the same dualism this blog exists to push back on.
I wrote the book for readers, but I built it for the counseling room.
Clinicians who work with Christian clients with ADHD know the recurring problem: the client wants their faith involved in treatment, and the homework options are either secular workbooks that ignore that desire or devotional materials that ignore the diagnosis. Grace for the Scattered Mind is designed to function as between-session work. The one-page sessions assign cleanly. The practice steps are concrete and checkable. The reflection prompts surface material clients bring back into session. The 30-day plan gives structure to clients who need scaffolding, and the family section gives you something to hand the exasperated spouse.
It also does quiet psychoeducation along the way—on time blindness, emotional intensity, the etiology question, and the shame spiral—in language clients can absorb without feeling lectured.
The clinical claims are sourced. The book carries APA 7 citations and a reference list, because Christian readers with ADHD deserve the same evidentiary standard as anyone else, and because counselors recommending a book to clients should be able to check its homework.
One disclosure, in the interest of the transparency I'd want from any author: this book is independently published. There is no publishing house behind it, which means there was no acquisitions editor, no copy editor, and no proofreader on payroll. I used AI tools to fill part of that gap—as an aid for brainstorming, editing, and proofreading. The ideas, the theology, the clinical perspective, and the final words are my own, and the same disclosure appears on the book's copyright page. Readers and colleagues can weigh that however they see fit; I'd rather say it plainly than have anyone wonder.
Both editions are live now:
If you read it and find it useful—for yourself or your clients—an honest Amazon review genuinely helps books like this reach the people who need them. And if you work with Christian clients with ADHD, I would value hearing how it functions in your practice.
The scattered mind is not beyond the reach of the old disciplines. That is the whole argument, and sixty pages of practice stand behind it.

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