We are the hippies, the junkies, the questioners, the rabble rousers. We are the queer kids, the misfits and losers. We are the ghosts in the woods and we are searching for what was lost.
He was naked and unashamed.
The gifts are all opened. The breakfast casserole and monkey bread have been devoured, and everyone has gone back to bed. Including my wife.
I don’t believe in Jesus all the time. You might. This has not been my experience.
Sometimes God uses a sign or wonder to let us know we don’t need a sign or wonder.
As I pulled into a rainy parking lot, I whispered a prayer for our time together, because I know that sometimes a meeting can change everything.
We’ve been told that we are made in God’s image, yet we are light years apart. Sometimes I just wish he were more like me.
I will not be casting a vote for Trump because I simply do not believe in his politics. But he IS my brother. And I’m no better than him. Not one bit.
Maybe the moment you flip God the bird is the exact moment he looks into your eyes and says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
God is either a dream come true or an absolute nightmare. At times I’ve wondered.
My wife is a musician by trade. A singer. Last week she sang the National Anthem at […]
“I seriously thought I might die,” she told me this morning. “Three straight days of intense pain like […]
On the spectrum of belief, of faith in God, I probably log in at a 7 most days. I’m not a 10.
Three and a half months ago I did the highly uncomfortable thing and resigned my position at Northview […]
Finding God in the Ruins (How God Redeems Pain) Can we talk about a few things? Because I’m […]