Grant
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J and Monica’s backyard is quiet now. The lights are still strung overhead. The tables are empty. The music has stopped. But just a few hours ago, this place was filled with joy…
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We spent hours in J and Monica’s backyard today, pulling weeds, moving bricks, hauling chairs, trimming branches—anything that needed doing to get their yard ready for a family wedding this weekend. And by evening, my hand was throbbing. The sun was setting. We were all sweating through our shirts. But we kept at it. Why?…
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Today was a slow day. No meetings. No urgent deadlines. Just a quiet house, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a single appointment on my calendar—one hour with my barber, Anthony. Talacey was at work. Sophia was at school. As I sit down to write, they are at Bible study and youth group. On slow…
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If you had to sum up the entire law of God in one sentence, how would you do it? When asked about the greatest commandment, Jesus pointed to these words from Deuteronomy…
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I thought about Moses tonight as I stood in the kitchen, trying to chop an onion for the dinner Talacey and I were making together…
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Last week, a brother at church asked me to coffee. He told me something I couldn’t shake. “There are two versions of me,” he admitted. “The one my family and my church see. And the one my colleagues and clients see.” And I told him I completely understood. Because that war rages in me too.
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Since my accident, I’ve had to relearn how to grip things. I remember the first time I tried to pick up a cup of coffee. I could close my fingers around it, but the moment I tried to lift it? It slipped right through. My hand simply couldn’t hold on. And I hate that feeling.…
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My job is ending. The pending transition is real. And there are days I want clarity—days I feel the pull to force a door open myself. But Jesus didn’t say: I’ll show you the door. He said: I am the door. And if I’m already in Him, then I don’t have to scramble to find…
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It’s easy to read about the Pharisees and assume we’re different. But the truth? We all have blind spots. And more often than not, we don’t see them until someone else points them out. If there’s anyone who excels in helping me see when I’m wrong, it’s my wife, Talacey.
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Just last night, Talacey and I got home from a seven-hour round-trip drive to meet with my surgeon in San Francisco. We planned the next two surgeries—one in two months to release the extensor tendons on the back side of my hand, and another two months after that to release the flexor tendons on the…
