While beating us up for how awful we believe we are, self-hate also whispers to us that if we tried just a smidge harder, we could find the strength to obey on our own. But we can’t.

My finite abilities have prodded me toward the infinite, eternal God who alone can heal my grumbling and despairing heart. Only when I am weak, will Christ make me strong.

Our more recent experiences with our adult child with Down Syndrome have opened my eyes to the realization that people with disabilities in our congregations are not just objects of ministry. They are gifted just like the rest of us.

Self-reliant Christianity is a dead end. It will lead to eternal, spiritual death.

I had viral meningitis over thirty-three years ago, and it left me with constant head pain, always at least 6.5 on a scale of 10. That’s given me lots of time to reflect on the purpose of pain.

I love you, Women’s ministry, and care about you so much that I want you to be the best that you can be.

Each day we wake up, our bodies walk toward death. Only in Christ can this not be crushing.

What resources of the heart might enable us to forgive those who have sinned against us? We need to know because forgiveness, we’re told in Scripture, is mandatory for a Christian.

We are not mostly okay people with an occasional bad day. We are broken people with divine grace as our only hope. The good news is that hope can be found.

For those who feel overwhelmed, lacking, and ill-equipped to welcome others into your homes, I offer this encouragement: our greatest opportunity to glorify God comes not from a position of prowess but from a workroom of weakness.

In the midst of deep suffering, we have deep questions.

I’d love to tell you that I’m not subject to algorithms. I’d love to tell you that I’m perfectly discerning in what comes across my screens. But I too have fallen into the mindless habit of scrolling and beholding. I’ve been shaped by my screens.