Faith

Sin slithers in when we least expect it, and goes for the chokehold every … single … time. Sin attempts to strangle us by twisting the truth with lies. Gasping for air, we ask, “Does God really love me?”; “Does He really want me to have good things?”; “Is His way really the best way?”; “Is God really enough?” Sin chokes out the light, and in the darkness the poison sinks deep, damaging everything in its path. Sin will always break its promises and break our hearts, and yet, we are just like our sister, Eve. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We were created to be worshippers, and whether it’s God Himself or a piece of fruit, we will spend our

In the middle of this worship song at church, the part where my soul usually soars with passion and hope, I had to stop singing. Stop cold, as if my jaw locked up. Through every trial My soul will sing Christ is enough for me Everything I need is in You Everything I need It was Mother’s Day Sunday, and I was in the midst of a “trial” (like many moms on a “holiday” that’s supposed to honor them, but ends up wounding them in a multitude of ways). I had spent my church preparation time stewing over my trial, a knife that had been thrust into my heart with increasing frequency over the previous several weeks. Then this: Christ is enough for

Yesterday I stumbled upon two really meaningful articles on Facebook, one on gratitude and the other on jealousy, written by authors that I, along with millions of others, follow and respect. As my eyes and mind took in their wise words, I knew it was no accident. I had been swimming in both emotions all week following the birth of my grandson, my only daughter’s firstborn baby. For most of every day, I have been overwhelmed with indescribable gratitude for this beautiful little boy and the way he has swollen my heart to bursting. For witnessing my daughter and son-in-law be the most amazing and tender parents. For getting to watch his face for hours on end, praying for him while I

Somewhere between his graduation from Basic Training at Great Lakes, Michigan, and the Tuesday morning in Coronado, California—when one of our sons took off his numbered helmet, laid it down, and rang the bell signaling that he would not, in fact, become a Navy Seal—he showed us a book of mantras. Just a little book, with one page per original mantra, each written by one of his BUDS (Basic Underwater Demolition School) classmates. Our son was married and in his mid-twenties at the time, so his mantra was appropriately inspirational, grammatically correct, and it actually made sense. As I read the others—many written by mere teenagers—I thought, “No wonder in a few short weeks this class of 300+ men will diminish to

“Why is it a girl has to be so silly to catch a husband?” Scarlett O’Hara complains as she is being tightly laced into the barbaric contraption known as the corset. In order to catch the attention of a man, women of the Victorian Era believed that they must conceal their true shape. This seems ridiculous to the progressive women of the 21st century, but I wonder how many of us are still hiding? I have spent a good portion of my life hiding my truest self. As a former pageant girl (Miss America reject), I learned how to conceal aspects about my body that were…ummm… unpleasant. For example, right before the swimsuit competition, I would forget to watch where I walked

I was at church one Sunday, about a year after my husband died. I freely share that I rarely escaped a service sans tears. Every week I sat in the same sanctuary, same side, sometimes even the same seat, where I planted Sunday after Sunday with my husband, whose skin I could still feel beside me. Periodically, the tears were so abundant (read uncontrollable) that I would escape to the bathroom mid-sermon to just sob them out. On this particular Sunday, I was once again recovering from my failure to control my emotions, feeling pretty raw and down. Someone from my church ripped me a new wound as we walked out the front doors into the sunshine and she proclaimed, “You just