Never commiserate on speakerphone because if you can use your hands, you’ll end up yelling…it’s just too dang easy.
Faith is timeless. It is not locked into this moment we call the present. It reaches out for us – backward or forward. It goes where it needs to go. It hears our old prayers and the ones we’ve not yet prayed, nodding its head “Yes” the very moment we are ready to receive it.
Maybe you can make a little change. Do something rather than nothing. You can certainly decide to save yourself the trouble of starting a new diet, workout routine, or promising to…
“Redemption will never burst through the door waving a flag of victory. Instead, we must look under every rug we have swept our pain and tragedy beneath. We must write our names in the dirt left behind on the floor of our lives. And when we find the courage to write them out…redemption will come to us, the quiet hush within our hearts.”
But why did I ask the atheists to pray? Why them? Because…IF God is out there, I imagine that his ears would tingle the instant they spoke out to the heavens…”
This is about my sister. This is FOR my sister. She has stage four metastatic breast cancer.
Side-Eye: One’s criticism, disapproval or scorn toward another person. A sidelong glance expressing contempt. Before we were born, […]
When I was in college, I had a group of friends nickname me “Hope” behind my back. It […]
A good soul permeates the exterior and reveals itself…if only for the people that actually see us.
*”Addicted to God” is a chapter from my book, The Blind Writer: Finding Faith Beyond Our Christian Subculture. If […]
She (the church) has been pathological at times, so I stand beside those who have abandoned her – who may feel she abandoned them first.
I don’t do this simply to write the most beautiful line, but to right the most offensive wrong. That will always be my goal, my purpose, and my calling.
What happened to us is often not a choice. But the choice to recover, that’s on us. I wish it weren’t sometimes…but oh, my friends…it most certainly is.
I sat with a couple yesterday, as they told me about losing their daughter to Neuroblastoma cancer last year. As painful as their story was, they chose to sit smack dab in the middle of reality.
“…she grabbed handfuls of our hair and raked the razor blade in a downward motion…rake, rake, rake, rake, rake…until a clump landed on the floor. She called it “layering.”