Grant

Last night, we celebrated my father-in-law’s 70th birthday. It was a surprise party of sorts, carefully orchestrated by Sandy—complete with a private dinner room, candles, wine, laughter, and friends gathered from every chapter of his life. She had one request: come with a story. One by one, they stood and spoke. Some with laughter. Some…

The countdown clock is still ticking. Thirty-five days left until I become officially unemployed. And the job search has become a grind. A wilderness. A place where I want to trust—but also want to control. I spend hours reworking spreadsheets of contacts. Tweaking variations of my résumé for different kinds of roles. Sending them off,…

Yesterday during VBS, we sat in a circle after the lesson—ten sweaty boys and a Bible story about trusting God. I asked each of them to pray aloud. And one by one, they did. Thank You, God, for my mom. Please help my dog. Forgive me for yelling at my sister. Then we got to…

I’m in a bit of a wilderness myself right now. Each morning, I wake up and apply for jobs—twelve on average, sometimes more. Each evening, I check my inbox and find five polite rejections. And silence from the rest. Twelve sent. Five “thanks, but no thanks.” Seven ghosts. That’s the rhythm. And it’s exhausting…

Yesterday, I led four boys through VBS. It was quiet. Manageable. Today? Ten showed up. And I’m convinced at least seven of them were mid-game in their minds the entire time, because they talked baseball from drop-off to pick-up.

Solomon had everything— Wisdom. Wealth. Wonders. And still, he wrecked the kingdom.

Some names make headlines. Others make history. But most don’t make it past the family group text. And that’s exactly the kind of people God loves to use…

Some verses explain grace. Others embody it. Today’s reading gave me one of the latter. “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand.” —Psalm 73:23 That’s not an explanation. It’s a picture. And it’s the most honest one I can give right now. Because that’s been my story these past eight months…

I sat in the surgeon’s office, just a few floors below the one I was flown to back in November. And I couldn’t shake the thought that I might end up back in a hospital bed today. I even turned to Talacey at one point and said, “I should have packed my suitcase.” And then…

Some days, wisdom doesn’t feel like a gift. But it is. Not because it feels good—but because it leads somewhere better. It’s what steadies us in grief. What anchors us in the unknown. What reshapes our joy into something deeper than circumstance.