I’ll never forget when he tip-toed down the stairs a little too early one morning, with sleep still in his eyes as he stumbled and squinted his way into my bathroom. No “Good Morning” greeting. No drama. No frills. He just walked up to me and matter-of-factly whispered into my
I was exhausted to my core, so of course the bedtime routine was the longest ever in the history of parenting. We snuggled – scratching backs and rubbing lotion on dry hands and feet, noting bruised knees and elbows from recent falls along the way. We sang worship songs –
Today I flipped back to the first page of my 2017 journal – the page where I poured out my honest, wrecked heart as I began my journey with the Lord this year. I had been frustrated. Frustrated with too much noise and not enough stillness. Frustrated with too much
Give Thanks Always And For EVERYTHING… “Fleas!” I cried. “Betsie, the place is swarming with them!” We scrambled across the intervening platforms, heads low to avoid another bump, dropped down to the aisle, and edged our way to a patch of light. “Here! And here another one!” I wailed.
As we read about the biblical patriarchs, it is easy to set them on a pedestal and view them as super godly. We see them with faith so strong that they can boldly stare into the mouths of lions, defy Pharaoh, and battle nations. It seems like some had such
Death is coming. It comes violently, with much clammer, taking with it hundreds of souls. It comes gently, in the middle of the night, snatching a person from their dreams. It comes without warning, stealing one’s breath and breaking hearts. Death is coming — and it is coming for you.
Earlier this week we witnessed a beautiful part of the Christmas story. In the midst of confusion and shock the angel comforts Joseph regarding the baby that Mary was going to have (Matt 1:21). A baby that is not his but that he is supposed to love and raise
I can almost see Paul as he finishes the book of Galatians. Like a loving father, he has something important to say and he wants to make sure those who are reading get the magnitude of his words. No longer content to dictate the letter to a scribe, Paul writes
I spent a few days earlier this week having a little pity party for myself. Yes, I know what you are thinking. I’m not under ten years old, and this is not appropriate behavior for a grown woman, let alone a missionary. But there it is. The story is this:
The Apostle Peter had a heart for the church, especially for those suffering. You can see this in his first letter. His concern for the church led him to shift gears a bit in 2 Peter to focus on false teachers and dangerous theology. Peter isn’t some angry heresy hunter,
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