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The word judgment  carries a chill. It sparks old images - courtrooms, verdicts, a final reckoning that feels abrupt and severe. Many of us were taught to imagine judgment as something waiting for us after  death, unknown and terrifying, as though God were withholding the results until the very end. But Scripture tells a quieter, more startling truth. Judgment is not only future. It is already at work ... woven into the way life unfolds. Again and again, Scripture returns t

When I was seven, I knew Jesus without effort. Not with beliefs I could defend, not with words I had learned ... but with the simple knowing that He was kind, and that kindness felt like home. It was easy then. Uncomplicated. Like reaching for a hand and finding it ... warm, steady. But life grew heavier. Noise crowded in. Disappointments reshaped my world, and certainty thinned like mist in the sun. Somewhere along the way, I fell back; turned less to my faith in His kindne

Lately you realize how much you have drifted. Perhaps in rebellion. Or maybe not in any grand defiance, but simply in the small, tired ways a heart wanders ... when life overcomes faith with its perplexity, its disappointments, its unending demands. You look up one day and notice the distance, how far you are from your early joy, any deep sense of well-being and the One who guided you in the past. At first shame arises. A crude questioning of self. The sting of finding your

It’s a curious thing about human nature: we love stories of triumph, perseverance, and overcoming impossible odds. We cheer for the athlete who comes back from injury, the entrepreneur who rises from bankruptcy, the artist who finally achieves recognition. And yet, when someone attributes their success to God or to a higher power, many of us recoil, or dismiss it. Anthony Hopkins, for example, has spoken openly about his sobriety and how he couldn’t have achieved it without G

Christmas isn’t always the glittery version we are promised. Sometimes it arrives carrying a quiet ache instead of bells. Sometimes it presses on the old bruises ... tricky family dynamics that didn’t alter with time, chairs that are empty now, conversations that never quite became what we hoped they would. There’s a particular kind of sadness that shows up at Christmas, isn’t there? Not loud grief, just a low hum of loss, confusion, disappointment. The sense that something s

This season has snuck in again ... lights blinking a little nervously, memories crowding the room, joy and grief sharing the couch like old acquaintances who’ve learned not to fight in public. There they sit, eyeing each other, checking the weight of what they carry, grief looking squarely at what's missing. Then joy gently whispers this invitation: to bask in blessings. Not the loud ones, joy says. Not brag-worthy miracles. Just the quiet abundance that we often rush past- h

Christ once said, Take heart. I have overcome the world. Which is a bold thing to say considering the world, and all its sharp edges. Because the world will take things from you. People, mostly. Dreams too ... quietly, when you aren’t looking. It will misplace your confidence, misfile your prayers, and occasionally overdraft your bank account, just to keep you humble. You will lose what you thought was solid. You will trust someone who turns out to be loyal only to themselv

What if the meaning of life is actually not that complicated? What if we’re here, walking around on this spinning planet, not to figure everything out , but simply to contribute a little love along the way? To become people who can give love and  receive it (yes, that part too), with some humility, using whatever odd and wonderful mix of gifts we’ve been handed, and letting that love quietly ripple outward. I’m not talking about epic, movie-trailer love. No dramatic music re

Some nights in December feel heavier than the rest of the year ... as if the silence itself has weight. As if the world’s bright lights only reveal what has gone missing. There are chairs that sit empty. Names we whisper only to God. Hopes we once held that slipped quietly through our fingers. And in those moments, when the ache swells like a cold tide in the chest, you might wonder why Christmas comes at all. But this is the exact place ... this trembling, hollow place ...

The Stunning Surprise at the Heart of Christmas If we had been asked to imagine how God would enter human history, we would have written a very different script. We would have expected: A warrior who conquers. A ruler who commands. A voice that splits the sky and comes with superb lighting. Power that overwhelms, convinces, and silences all doubt. Something unmistakably God-ish . But Christmas offers… none of that. Instead we get: A baby. A feeding trough. A teenage mother do

Strength works - until it doesn’t. For a while, strength feels like the answer. Muscle, willpower, intelligence, competence, grit. The kind of strength that gets things done, keeps things moving, earns respect. The kind that says, I’ve got this. And often … we do. Until we don’t. That moment - when strength runs out - isn’t a failure of character. It’s a revelation of truth. Because human strength was never meant to carry the full weight of life. Think of Samson . Samson’s st

Soliloquy #44 Mid-Life Crisis   I ache for my childhood - back where joy lives.   For life has slammed me up against the wall, clutched my throat with such force I can barely gasp for mercy. I thrash about hopelessly.   I pray I have learned something.   But too many pieces to the puzzle are missing, I can't even find one corner piece. Useless tears blur the colors and make the tired attempt at wholeness fuzzy and meaningless.   Check, I must be lost before I'm found.   I sup

THE SLOW TURNING HOME There comes a time when your heart grows still enough to hear its own footsteps. A time when the long shadows of struggle and sorrow stretch across your path, and you finally see how far you’ve wandered from the place you meant to be. Not all at once ... never all at once ... but slowly, through bruised hopes, through quiet disappointments, through the small calamities that shake loose the truth. And there, in the middle of your life, you pause. You feel