Psalms
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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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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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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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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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I write these posts for the world to see. And if you don’t know me personally, maybe they sound like the words of a faithful man—anchored, steady, devoted. But I haven’t arrived. And most days when I click “publish,” I cringe a little. Because I know who’s going to read it. Talacey. Sophia. Jason. Monica.…
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I want to believe my identity is fixed in Christ. I know the theology. I’ve read it. I’ve written it. I’ve even taught it. I know better. And I still forget. Still every day, I still have to fight these same lies…
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David is on his way back to the throne. The rebellion is over. Absalom is dead. And the long, awkward return begins.
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It was the most sacred object in all of Israel. A golden chest that held the Ten Commandments. The mercy seat where God’s presence once rested in fire and smoke. The symbol of victory, judgment, holiness, and favor. So David sends it away…
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The Apostle Paul once wrote that “the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing” (1 Corinthians 1:18). But sometimes… the folly shows up in a cardiology exam. Let me explain. Yesterday morning, I had an appointment with my cardiologist. Routine stuff—an EKG, a chest ultrasound, all the pokes and prods that…
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“This is not at all how we thought it was supposed to be…” Every time life doesn’t go according to plan, those lyrics come flooding back. I first heard them over two decades ago when my Aunt Carol sang them at church on Easter Sunday. The original songwriter had written them in grief, in the…
