As I watched the footage of the horrific shooting in Las Vegas, my heart ripped a little further. Senseless. I can’t understand the hate that would fill a mind and heart so completely that they would shoot into a crowd of happy, oblivious people. Not just one shot, not two, but over and over and over again. My chest aches and my throat swells as I relive the terror captured on screen. No sooner had I posted my condolences and prayers then I saw it.
While in Great Britain, I noted many peculiarities in speech and customs different from my own—the use of a “water closet” instead of a restroom, tea rooms on every corner instead of Starbucks (although I did find a few of those too), Cornish pasties instead of sandwiches, and my favorite…the moment a bakery worker stared at me in utter confusion when I ordered a “cocoa” instead of a “hot chocolate”. When he finally realized what I meant, he slapped his knee and belted out a
A special thanks to my sweet friend Nancy McAllister for her beautiful thoughts and reflections found straight from God’s creation. Trust me…you don’t want to miss this! Butterflies by Nancy Mcallister There are moments when we see our reflection in the mirror of God’s word. Moments when what is being reflected back isn’t what we thought we were actually portraying to the world around us. The ugliness that dwells within shines out brightly, portraying us as who we really are: arrogant, deceitful, lustful, and idolatrous.
The life surrendered to God has impact far beyond the grave. And sometimes through the grave. Are you scratching your head? Hang on. I just stumbled upon a fascinating passage while studying God’s Word this morning. I was reading 2 Kings 13:21 and this simple verse leaped out. “Once while some Israelites were burying a man, suddenly they saw a band of raiders; so they threw the man’s body into Elisha’s tomb. When the body touched Elisha’s bones, the man came to life and stood up
Euphoria in a Rice Field…I Think Not by Tara Johnson I was getting a bit bored, driving through soggy rice fields on my way to a prison in Arkansas, preparing to speak to inmates on a drizzly Sunday morning. Maybe it was the lack of scenery that made me notice it. Maybe it’s because it was the only building around for miles other than a few silos. But when I saw the building perched on the side of the road, I shook my head. There
I could hear the fight from the trail below me as I climbed Pinnacle Mountain. Actually, everyone in the vicinity of the snaking path could hear the epic battle of wills between the frustrated father and his stubborn son on the crowded mountainside. “Son, I mean it. Stop and tie your shoe.” “No, I don’t want to.” “You’re going to trip and get hurt.” Silence as the determined boy marched past his father. “Ethan, I mean it. Stop right now and tie your shoe. It’s
Have you been burdened to do something big for God? Maybe you have a desire for ministry that is burning inside you. In this day and age, the opportunities are endless. Missions, human trafficking, homeless shelters, women’s or men’s ministries, Celebrate Recovery, pregnancy centers, prisons…the possibilities are exciting and dizzying. Thoreau said, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” We all long to matter. We all want to make an impact and somehow know that our lives will leave an eternal mark for future
Here in the South, we love sweet tea and cornbread, family and friends, pickup trucks and fishing. Walmart cashiers call their customers “Sweetie” and “Honey”. Deer hunting and frog gigging is a thing. Some schools even shut down for the opening day of deer season. Shopping carts are buggies and all sodas are called “Cokes”. Yes, it’s a whole other culture. Where else could you get by with saying, “This is so good, it makes me wanna slap my Momma!”? We have several code words
Sour Fruit I’ve had a week. I mean, one of those weeks. A hormonal, pre-teen, an almost two year old who made it his mission in life to scream through every square inch of Walmart when he saw the M&Ms, homeschooling frustrations, recuperating from illness, looming deadlines and a string of speaking engagements to prepare for. Worst of all, no chocolate. Yes, this past week I was Allyson from Mom’s Night Out. Despite, having one of those weeks, I was determined to stay close to
The darkened impression molded into the crumbling brick snagged my attention. The ragged brick was nestled into the wall of a fort and, upon seeing it, I sucked in a surprise breath over the precious detail. A detail many around me missed. The fingerprint of a slave. Let me back up for a moment. You see, I finally found my mother ship. It’s in the quaint and charming town of Savannah, Georgia. I knew my history-loving bookworm self would find a treasure trove in the