Pain is a strange companion of ours, whether we like it or not. There’s pain in our very welcome to this world, we fall and scrape our knees as we learn to walk, baby teeth have to be pulled in order for permanent teeth to show up and do their work. Seeds must shatter for…
Quiet time. It’s a description. A noun. A command. A miracle, really. I’m not sure when the phrase “quiet time” became defined by the perfect chair illuminated by the perfect light at the perfect time of day, flanked by the journal that has the perfect paper to capture our thoughts as we study the perfect…
She wasn’t always called Aunty. Her grandfather named her Romawii, which means “beautiful treasure” in her native language of Mizo. Her grandfather was one of the first Christians in her northeastern India homeland, and he delighted in traveling to villages to share the love of Jesus. Aunty says God blessed him for his work by…
GET TO KNOW THE STORY: Mary, the mother of Jesus, was at a wedding feast in the village of Cana in Galilee. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited and were there. When the wine was all gone, Mary said to Jesus, “They don’t have any more wine.” Jesus replied, “Mother, my time hasn’t…
Just then a woman who had hemorrhaged for twelve years slipped in from behind and lightly touched his robe. She was thinking to herself, “If I can just put a finger on his robe, I’ll get well.” Jesus turned—caught her at it. Then he reassured her: “Courage, daughter. You took a risk of faith, and…
I woke to the song of mourning doves. Their soundtrack seems a part of the landscape here in the Texas Hill Country, along with the buzz of locusts on hot summer afternoons and the chirp of tree frogs in the scrub that separates our home from a fairway often inhabited by golfers with a penchant…
Not long ago, I found myself walking with a small team of missionaries along the rubble-filled streets of Mathare, the second largest slum in Nairobi, Kenya, with a population of more than half-million people. We stepped over ditches filled with raw sewage and held hands as we walked to the homes of students who attend…
There is a scar on the wall of our garage. Few will ever see it, even fewer know its significance. It emerged slowly, like color bleeding through whitewash on the wall of an ancient building. As the wall continues to yield to the gentle impact of a small gate, the scar has become beauty to…