The God Who Has Your Back
It’s easy to believe God is disappointed in us, keeping score from a distance. But what if he’s nearer than that — speaking into the noise, pushing back on the accusations we rehearse in our own minds? The battle is often inside us. And in it, Jesus isn’t standing against us, but for us — steady, clear, reminding us what’s true when we forget.
The Longest Table in the World
We all carry a longing for home — sometimes rooted in memory, sometimes in what we never had. But Christ meets that ache with something larger than nostalgia. At his Table, we taste both what was and what will be: belonging, healing, communion. It’s not the final feast, but a promise of it — a reminder that one day, every hunger will be met at a table that never ends.
God Heard Me
Sometimes faith begins not with certainty, but with a whisper from the floor: Are you there? And sometimes the answer doesn’t come as a voice, but as provision — quiet, timely, undeniable. Not flashy, just personal. Enough to make you pause. Enough to make you wonder. Maybe he really does hear. And maybe, in ways we don’t expect, he’s already moving toward us.
Going Deep
Depth doesn’t begin with the perfect question; it begins with presence. When someone feels safe, seen and unhurried, they’ll often go further than you expected. Jesus seemed to understand this — he met people where they were, then gently invited them deeper. Real connection grows the same way: slowly, intentionally, with space to listen and the courage to stay when the conversation finally matters.
A Dust Cloud, a Dark Bay, and a Prayer
Sometimes God answers prayers in ways that feel both overwhelming and unfinished. A door opens, a reunion happens, a glimpse of healing arrives — and still, questions linger. How long will this last? What happens next? But maybe the gift isn’t in how long it stays. Maybe it’s in knowing he sees, he hears and he is still gently writing your story — even in the dust clouds and fragile reunions.
The Spiritual Case for Feeling Everything
God did not design you to feel less, but to feel rightly. Joy, grief, anger, fear — each has a place in the life of faith. Even Jesus wept, felt anguish and was moved with compassion. The goal isn’t to silence your emotions, but to bring them under God’s care. When held there, they stop ruling you and start guiding you — toward love, wisdom and deeper communion with him.
You Were Never Meant to Figure This Out Alone
You don’t have to imagine what it would be like to walk beside Jesus — he hasn’t left you alone. The same wisdom, comfort and steady presence the disciples knew is given to you now through the Spirit. Not distant, not silent, but near. When life feels confusing or heavy, you are not left to figure it out. The Counselor is already beside you, ready to lead you home.
Hide Me In You
Some days, faith looks less like standing tall and more like folding low — tucking yourself into God’s presence like a child who knows where home is. Not to escape the world, but to be held within it. Hidden in him, you begin to see clearly again: beauty, fragility, joy. And from that quiet refuge, you find the courage to live fully, right where you are.
How is Forgiveness Even Possible?
Forgiveness doesn’t begin when the pain fades; it begins when we choose, however trembling, to place our hurt in God’s hands.
Closer Than You Think: How Religion Is Mostly Just Friendship
We often search for some hidden spiritual secret, as though holiness were a code to crack. But what if faith is far more familiar than that? Not a mystic “it” to chase, but a friendship to cultivate. Jesus’ invitation is wonderfully plain: abide in me. Stay near. Listen to my words. Let love, obedience and time do their quiet work in you.
Be Extravagant in Love
Love, when it follows Jesus, rarely stays safe or measured. It risks reputation, comfort, even misunderstanding. Nicodemus came in secret, then stepped into the light. A woman poured out what others called waste. Both saw something worth everything. Extravagant love doesn’t calculate return. It simply gives — because it has been given to first, more generously than we ever deserved.
The Golden Thread: Church Unity Through the Eyes of a Birder
A flock of birds moves as one — not because one leads, but because each is held by something unseen. The church is like that. Beneath the ordinary faces on a Sunday morning runs a quiet, binding unity in Christ. A golden thread connects us — across rooms, cities and centuries — into something far more beautiful than we can see at a glance.
What We Lost When Meekness Became Weakness
Meekness isn’t weakness. It’s strength under control. A powerful horse trained to obey its rider isn’t diminished; it’s directed. In the same way, true meekness means mastering anger rather than being mastered by it. Our culture often celebrates force and reaction, but the quiet discipline of restraint — the power to choose patience over impulse — may be one of the most overlooked virtues we need most.
Does God Get Back Pain? On the Image of God
If we’re made in God’s image, what exactly does that mean? Surely not that God shares our crow’s feet or back pain. The likeness runs deeper. We create, feel, reason and reflect — echoes of the Creator’s own life. Yet every answer leads us toward mystery. We resemble God enough to recognize him, but not enough to contain him. The image is real, but the One it reflects is far greater.
When Faith Disappears, Idols Return: Santayana’s Warning To The Modern World
George Santayana wasn’t a traditional believer, yet he saw something many modern critics miss: when faith disappears, the human need for meaning doesn’t. It simply relocates. Remove religion, and politics, identity or ideology rush in to take its place — with the same rituals and moral fervor, but far less mercy. Santayana’s warning was simple and unsettling: societies that abandon transcendence rarely become calmer. They become more combustible.
Wonder and Whimsy
Some mornings begin with questions — spoken quietly to God before the day gathers speed. In those unguarded moments, wonder and whimsy return: the scent of rain, the warmth of sunlight, the small mercies of being alive. Prayer becomes less about answers and more about presence. And slowly, in stillness, we remember that life with God is not only duty — it is delight.
Personal Spiritual Retreats: Fresh Water Your Soul
“I’m so tired,” I once prayed — and the quiet that followed felt like an invitation rather than a solution. Jesus’ words echoed: Come to me… and I will give you rest. Retreat isn’t escape from real life; it’s returning to it rightly. In unhurried time with God, our frantic pace slows, distractions settle like silt in water, and the soul finally drinks from the rest it has been seeking.
Why I Own a Bee Suit
Last year I bought a bee suit and started keeping two hives in my backyard. It’s not productive in the usual sense. It won’t advance my career or help me check more boxes. But tending bees reminds me of something our culture forgets: we weren’t made only for work. We were made for restoration too — quiet practices that bring us back to ourselves, and back to God.
The Measure Of Our Walk With God Isn’t In Results, But Faithfulness
After thousands of sermons and columns, I can count the ones I truly like on my fingers. Most weeks feel like falling short. Yet the calling never left. Over time I’ve realized something simple: God doesn’t measure our lives by applause or outcomes. He asks for faithfulness. We plant the flowers, even if they’re trampled. The results were never ours to control anyway.
The Beauty — and Power — of Restorying Your Story
Some stories feel beyond redemption. Trauma doesn’t tie itself up neatly, and healing rarely moves in straight lines. But over time, God begins to weave threads we couldn’t see at first — using even the gifts shaped in pain as instruments of restoration. He doesn’t erase our story; he reframes it. And as he heals us in ways fitted to our souls, we become people who help others find hope in theirs.