All of Us Here
In a circle of strangers, I said what I had never said before: “I want to feel like I can do nothing and still be loved.” And when they wrapped their arms around me and whispered “I love you,” I felt it — not just from them, but from God. “You belong,” the Father said. And in that moment, I finally believed him.
Blow the Dam: When You’re Suffering Divine Dehydration
You were made for living water. For the presence of God rushing through your life like a river in flood season. But sin dammed it up. Left you parched. Empty.
The Rock Star Who Refused To Hide His Faith
Bono didn’t pick up faith as a prop or marketing tool. He lived it — quietly, publicly, honestly. Long before it was trendy to name-drop Jesus, he was writing psalms into lyrics and praying through grief onstage. His faith wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And in an industry of curated personas, that kind of raw, worn-in belief still cuts through like a spotlight.
Prayers of Hope For Peace Over Your Thoughts
Prayer changes things — especially us. When we bring our worries, regrets and need for control to Jesus, he doesn’t just listen — he leads. His peace moves in quietly, clearing out the noise, shifting our thoughts toward truth. The world may still be spinning, but deep inside, we’re anchored. That’s the power of communion with God. Not flashy, not loud. Just steady. Just holy. Just enough.
The Cracks That Let In The Light Of God
Some weekends just catch you off guard — not with fireworks, but with God showing up in quiet, unexpected ways. A biker rally. A conversation about grace. A priest who met God on mushrooms. The Spirit moves how he wants, through whoever he wants. None of us sees the whole picture, but sometimes, through the cracks in this world, the light gets in. And that’s enough.
Miracles Happen in the Mundane
Jesus didn’t wait for a grand stage to hand out joy. He stood on a hillside — ordinary, unimpressive — and spoke the words that changed everything.
How To Calm Anxiety and Find Peace
Anxiety may feel constant, but peace is still possible. Real peace — the kind that holds up under pressure — comes when we fix our eyes on Jesus and lift our hearts in praise. From sunrise to sunset, God invites us to marvel at his goodness, to trust him with our burdens and to let worship become the rhythm that calms our soul and clears our anxious mind.
When Memory Becomes Destination
The scent of almond blossoms stirs memory — of childhood barefoot in orchards, of both beauty and ache. Some moments return willingly, others resist. Yet in each, God’s presence threads through time. Even what we forget, he remembers. Our memories — blessing and burden — become places where the sacred and the familiar meet, calling us home to his love that transcends time, pain and even forgetting.
Bypass: Learn to Reroute To Avoid Stress
Stress can’t always be avoided, but peace can be pursued. Like a heart surgeon reroutes blood flow around a blockage, we can create pathways around stress.
Small Things & Great Love
In a world obsessed with applause, two men have stayed faithful where few were watching. Maybe that’s what the kingdom of God mostly is: quiet faithfulness for the glory of the One who never forgets.
How to Let God Redeem Your Pain
We all carry wounds — some fresh, some long scarred over but still tender. Places we believe are beyond redemption. But what if healing begins right there?
When Life Becomes Unmanagable
We all have something — something we chase, something we can’t stop, something that’s making life unmanageable. So what do we do when willpower isn’t enough?
Be My Companion
The drive is short—just five minutes—from my house.
On the way, I look at the Christmas decorations in front of the houses: poinsettias in ivory and crimson, lights in multicolor and white, a manger scene in the middle of a lawn, adult-sized toy soldiers heralding walkers on the sidewalk with stationary trumpets and bright, merry eyes.
I love it. It feels like goodness. Like possibility. Like hope.
the Depths and the Shallows
I delayed writing this because I feared my writing would masquerade as action. And action, not talk, is what is required of me now.
“Do not stay in the shallows,” He says, and I wonder if processing His words will help me do so: leave the shallows and go to the deeper place where my heart is one with His.
I am sitting at a window near the front of the house where I can see the giant rose bush through the glass. Up at the top, one rose opens to the December sun. Beneath its peach petals are thick flowerless branches armored with thorns. I study them, remembering the feeling of falling in a nest of rose bushes as a child—and the precarious dance I do as an adult in the spring and summer, deadheading stalks so more flowers can bloom.