The paradox of maturing in God: I become wiser by understanding how foolish I am.
Every once in a while, a book promises to change your life and actually does.
In all the crowd, noise, jostling, and distraction, Jesus noticed the woman who barely touched him. He notices you, too.
It’s tough to feel anything but dried up these days. Poetry helps. So does reading the Word. (One more than the other.)
I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions, but when I do, it’s about progress, not perfection.
2020 took a lot from you. That’s true. It also gave.
What kind of vehicle are you when it comes to God’s will?
Even as I kid, I desperately felt like I’m running out of time, never able to do or be enough. But God can use even that curse to make something beautiful.
I approached my year-end reflection with a sense of failure and shame. But I wonder if I didn’t shema better than I thought.
Will I disappoint you? Almost guaranteed.
Will I disappoint God? Never.
Although white-woman-wokeness is trendy right now and I hate bandwagons, something tectonic has shifted in me, and now I can no longer balk at the fear of imperfection and conflict that has positioned me against people I love by default. It’s time to break the seal of silence and be willing to imperfectly stand and speak the truth in love.
God calls out who you are long before it’s who you are. Just before the Unpleasantness, I found an extremely abridged version of “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” at the thrift store (remember those?) and scooped it up for Mackenzie. She found it over the weekend, so we read it together. She was …