Bible

Dear God, You, God, are my Father, my eternal heavenly Father. Because You asked me to be your child, sought me, and found me. I didn’t earn it. I have no qualifications to join Your royal family. I am here only because You sent Your Son. Through you, Jesus, Your birth, death, and resurrection, I have been adopted into Your family. That I now have the honor to be a child of the King. My faults, my sins, and shortcomings are covered by who You are and what You did. Your words, when You walked this earth, taught me how to live. Your death taught me how to love. As You left to return to heaven, You gave me more. You left […]

“And there were in the same country, shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were so afraid. And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not. For behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord,’” (Luke 2:8-14). This memorable verse from Luke—which Linus proudly recites in A Charlie Brown Christmas to explain the true meaning of the holiday—states clearly where we are to find our greatest joy. It’s easy to

When Dan and I first started hiking and snowshoeing together, he talked about how his church loves well—and how much it meant to him when they reached out in love as his wife was dying of cancer. He told stories of how the men wouldn’t let him hibernate after his wife passed. Instead, they said, “Come with us. We’re going to work on a repair project,” or “We’re going to Mexico to deliver books and educational supplies.” Early on, I somehow knew that if this relationship grew into something beyond a non-dating friendship, I would be changing churches. In time, Dan invited me to attend Foundry Church, and what I mostly remember is how everyone was warm and accepting and seemed pleased

I don’t want to look at what’s inside the Tupperware at the back of the fridge. But once I brave it, I’m relieved to start the task and be done with the judgment lurking behind the hummus and pimento cheese. There’s no guilt in dumping rotten food. After all, black spotted soup is obviously trash, regardless of how wonderful it was when it started out. There’s no need to remember whether or not it was supper last week or two weeks before. If you’re like me, sometimes the ooze in the container-turned-petri dish is so disgusting, even the Tupperware has to go. Can I get a witness? How delightful it is to have this task handed over to my daughter who is

I prefer things to be ordered, make sense and be (this is a non-negotiable) predictable. As a Type A, under-caffeinated, prematurely graying toddler mom, the unexpected is not what I welcome. Even though I live with it and its stinky, whiny reality every day. I spent a good majority of my first couple decades trying to live inside the predictable. Even if that predictable was messy, self-destructive and smelled of rotting garbage. I wanted things to stay in a safe place where I could manage them. Even my belief in an impossible-making-possible God, I wanted wrapped up so I could contain it. Watch it. Keep it where I could believe from the comfort of my small life boat. Jesus sleeping while I

Sunlight radiated through my office window, but I barely noticed. My eyes stared at the computer monitor but saw nothing, the weight of my soul pulling my attention away from emails and to-do lists. Emotionally and spiritually, I was exhausted. Why Do I Have a Disconnect in My Faith? For months, I’d felt like God was a million miles away. Prayers met with silence. I knew God heard me. His Word said so. I knew He could intervene, so why did it seem like He didn’t want to? I felt like He was a distant dad who’d handed me an instruction manual to life and then disappeared, leaving me to figure out the details. My phone vibrated me back to reality with