1 Corinthians
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At noon today, I go under the knife again. The setting is different this time—scheduled, prepped, expected—but the anxiety is familiar. I’m hoping for more mobility. Less pain. A stronger grip. But beneath it all, a deeper question still presses in…
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It happened over coffee. Noah, the college director at our church, asked to meet. He wanted to share the vision for the ministry—young adults craving connection, longing for truth, needing voices who had been around the block and lived to tell about it. Then he said it…
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There’s a lot Paul could have said. The Corinthians were distracted, divided, and disoriented. Drifting into pride. Chasing novelty. Unraveling the gospel. But Paul doesn’t start with rebuke. He starts with a reminder.
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David had reached the end of his reign. The ark was secure. The people were at peace. The plans for the temple were in hand. And the giving? It was extravagant. Gold. Silver. Bronze. Iron. Onyx. Marble. Tribes. Leaders. Families. All giving willingly. Lavishly. Joyfully. But when David stands before the people to pray, he…
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A few days before it happened—before the saw, the scream, the severed fingers—I ordered our family Christmas card. As usual, I chose the layout. The photos. The font. And the words from one of my favorite hymns: Turn your eyes upon Jesus this Christmas. Look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth…
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Today, my daughter got braces. It’s a rite of passage for many kids. A necessary step toward a straighter smile. But for a 13-year-old girl, it can feel like a mouthful of metal—tight, painful, awkward. When she and Talacey came home from the appointment, Sophia didn’t say much. She just looked at me and asked,…
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I have two younger brothers: Garrett and Michael. Both were born athletes. Growing up, they could throw a spiral, hit a curveball, bench press a Buick. I, on the other hand, could design a killer student council campaign poster with nothing but a glue stick, a sharpie, and a layout grid. They spent their high…
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The New King James Version puts it plainly: “each one takes his own supper ahead of others…” (1 Corinthians 11:21) They were rushing to the table. Hungry, yes. But not just for bread. Hungry to be first. Hungry for control. Hungry to be filled—before anyone else. That kind of hunger still lives in us. And…
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Freedom is a funny thing. It’s easy to idolize. Hard to steward. We say we want it. Crave it. Chase it. But rarely know what to do with it. And when we say we want freedom, what we often mean is, “I want to do what I want.”
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Nine days from now, I’ll be back on the operating table. Another surgery. Another round of scalpels and sutures and anesthesia. This time, to cut through the scar tissue in my middle finger that’s keeping it from bending. The surgeon calls it tenolysis. I call it more torture. The goal is restoration—full motion. A hand…
