The alarm buzzed somewhere beyond my comprehension and wrestled me from my sleep. Weary, groggy, and just a big achy, I gathered myself up, and switched on the light. Shuffling to the kitchen, I started turning over in my mind the day’s to-do list: I need to first make coffee, I need to check to
“It’s just not for me, I guess,” she said, shaking her head with resignation. The words fell from her mouth with a splat; they were deflated and her heart was fit to match. Between us sat an open Bible, a well-worn dictionary, two pens, and plenty of scratch paper. We were working through the Text
I sat in stubborn silence in the early hours of the morning. In the time set aside for study and prayer, I sat jaw-clenched in bed, my Bible resting in my lap just beyond my crossed arms. I had been asking God for something for months now, presenting the request faithfully and honestly on a daily
She looked me in the eyes, square in the eyes. Each shaking hand trying to stabilize the other, and tears filling each lower lid. “I’m afraid,” she said plainly. Not trying to hide her anxiety, but also unaware of the exhaustion expressed in her sign. “I’m afraid to listen to God because I’m afraid of
Mornings do not come naturally to me. Personally, I don’t think that mornings come naturally to anyone. I always secretly resented that girl in my 8am college class, who arrived early, wearing a Pinterest-worthy outfit, with hair freshly washed and styled, coffee in hand as evidence that this was not the first place she had
Evangelical Christianity in the West is highly praised (and rightly so) for the high view of grace it holds out. But what do we lose if, in our high view of grace, we have garnered a low view of the spiritual disciplines? Have we, amid our “once saved, always saved” mantras, lost a holy sense
Grace is a wonton commodity in our economy of checks and balances. It is a strange creature; a peculiar beast of unknown proportions. We are a people of rush and do-to, and we hurry past grace noting the way she sits awkwardly in the midst of our busy. Grace – the thing of gifting
The high-pitched scream of the steamer marks the moments in this little coffee shop. The sun hasn’t quite come up yet, and only the regulars are sipping their regular cup of brew. The meekness of the morning light makes the shop feel all the more inviting; her blaring yellow lights and the constant chatter
Recently, my husband and I chose to go through the membership process at our church. We had been attending the local body for several months, but when the topic of church membership came up I hardly gave it a second thought. I knew the stance of the church on most theological topics, and it felt