How strong the gentle hands that shaped the world and lift me up.
In this quiet season, there is a small voice whispering.
It is not Him who is slow; it’s me.
A permission slip from Father to world on behalf of a very foolish daughter.
I’m thinking of getting a new piercing. But it’s probably not one you’re thinking of.
Philippians 4:13 isn’t just for football players and actors. It’s also for the impossible everyday.
In all the crowd, noise, jostling, and distraction, Jesus noticed the woman who barely touched him. He notices you, too.
Hat tip to Raffi for the reminder that the hands that hold the universe hold mine.
This is not about platforms, organizations, agendas, or performance. This is about all of humanity getting free from sin. Our liberation is bound up together.
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.
As the news escalates, a previously-rare thought is surfacing more: I don’t want to be the grownup. I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know if it’s time to wear masks to the store or for my husband to shower when he gets home. I don’t know how to explain that the mall, …
When I was 28, I had a massive hip surgery. I’d never had a wisdom tooth pulled and was utterly terrified. The day of the procedure, I was dull and numb and the world moved in unreal slow motion. Thankfully, Mom was there. There I was, a grown woman, clinging to my mother as …