Grant
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I don’t like musicals on TV. I don’t mean I just dislike them—they stir something dark and irrational in me. I despise them. It’s weird, because I love musicals in person. I’ve sat through shows like Phantom, Les Mis, Wicked, Chicago, The Lion King, Cabaret, Crazy for You, Big Fish—even Cats—on Broadway in New York…
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This week? It’s spring break. And it’s a quiet one. Our closest friends out of town with other friends. Our driveway empty. Our calendar blank. The kind of stillness that feels pretty lonely. We’re here—just the three of us in our little house—looking ahead to Easter with family, holding space for what’s coming, and trying…
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It’s easy to skim past it. Just three verses tucked at the end of Joshua 21. No blood. No conquest. No drama. Just a quiet crescendo.
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Where Do I Run? That’s the question today raises. Not just what did I do? But where do I go with it? When I lash out and then regret it. When I parent out of impatience instead of grace. When I say too much, or say nothing when courage was called for. When I sin…
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It looked generous. It looked spiritual. It looked like the kind of thing that would earn you a standing ovation in the early church. But it wasn’t true.
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They had every reason to be afraid. Peter and John had just healed a man in Jesus’ name—and now they stood before the same religious court that condemned Jesus. The pressure was real. The threats were serious. Their lives were on the line. And yet, they didn’t ask for protection. They didn’t plead for things…
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Tonight I sat on a stool in Jason’s driveway while he detailed wheels for a neighbor. We were just catching up—but when he asked how I was doing, it all kind of spilled out.
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One hundred days. That’s how long I’ve been doing this—opening the Word, wrestling with it, writing through it, showing up with a sore hand and a tired soul and a heart that isn’t always ready, but is always willing. Some days, it’s been joy. Some days, discipline. Some days, survival.
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The sun stood still. The enemy fled. And Joshua’s bold prayer was answered. But the line that hit me hardest wasn’t the miracle—it was the quiet truth behind it: “Surely the Lord was fighting for Israel.”
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Unity. It’s one of those words we toss around but rarely see. Sometimes it feels more like a memory than a reality—especially when church life gets messy. But Pentecost shows us something different.
