When Victor Glover spoke these words from space, from the Artemis II ... “Love God with all that you are… and love your neighbor as yourself” ... they somehow landed differently, didn't they? I mean, imagine it. He’s not standing in a church or sitting comfortably at home. He’s floating above the earth, looking down at this glowing, fragile, unbelievably beautiful planet. There are no borders; no noise. Just this quiet, breathtaking view of everything we know … held togethe
There are moments when words feel almost intrusive ... when speaking at all, risks diminishing what has been lost. The killing of eight people at a school in the small community of Tumbler Ridge is one of those moments. In a place where lives are closely woven, the grief is not abstract; it moves through families, classrooms, and daily routines that will never quite return to what they were. I have no answers to offer. I do not believe this kind of loss yields to explanation,
Every once in a while doubt arises, usually with a raised eyebrow and a tired sigh: What if we made it all up? What if Jesus is a beautifully crafted myth ... an ancient con job, polished by centuries of repetition? It’s a fair question. Healthy even. Faith that can’t survive honest daylight isn’t faith; it’s superstition with better manners. But here’s the thing. When you actually look at the story we’re supposedly accusing of being fabricated, it behaves very badly for a li
