One of the blessings, and sometimes headaches, of being a historical author is the amount of research I have to wade through each week. On occasion, a gem appears that is so rare, so astoundingly beautiful, that it makes the hours of sleeplessness worth every moment. Each Christmas I find particular joy in digging anew into the accounts of Jesus' birth. I've studied Simeon, Anna, the outposts around Bethlehem, the innkeeper, Mary...the possibilities are endless. But this year, I was giddy to discover a letter held in the Constantinople archives. This missive was a report written by a priest named…

When elementary school teachers across our nation tell their students the origins of Thanksgiving, there are accounts of pilgrims and Indians, complete with black-buckled hats and feathered headdresses, talk of starving people and the wisdom of men like Squanto who taught the Mayflower pilgrims how to survive amid a challenging new world. And while none of these accounts are wrong, the breaking of bread between the new Europeans and the Wampanoag tribesmen were not the beginning of Thanksgiving as we celebrate it today. In 1789, George Washington issued a proclamation to set aside November 26th of that year as a…

Words are powerful. They can build up a life through language doused in love, or they can cut a life down like a scythe slicing through brittle grass. When I recently asked my oldest daughter what she loved most about her best friend at school, she replied, "I've never heard her say a bad word about anyone. She speaks the truth, sometimes very directly, but always with kindness of love. She's not a backstabber. It's hard not to love being around someone like that." Her reflection caused me to evaluate my own life. Jesus told us what comes from our…

"Daddy, wanna dance?” The mirror ball sprinkled light across the darkened room, washing the space in prisms of blue, red, green and purple. The father sighed and stuffed pressed the ‘end call’ button on his cellphone before shoving it back down in his pocket. He held up a finger. “One dance, Priscilla.” As the pumping beat of “Dance Like Your Daddy” rumbled the gym floor, Priscilla looked up into her father’s face as she hopped from foot to foot. But he was barely moving, absently shuffling his weight from side to side, his gaze darting around the room. Was he…

Guys, sometimes we just need to stop. Stop and think about what we say. Words have power. They have meaning. What we say can build up a life or destroy it. The phrases we so easily fling from our lips can stir up hate and violence, or bring peace. They can cause someone to run to the arms of a loved one, or dash away into the night. They can bend the thoughts of the wise or crush the weak. Sometimes, I think we hear phrases so often, we regurgitate them as if they’re the gospel. Let us never confuse…

The pastor walked back down the dirt trail etched in the side of the Arkansas mountains, his heart heavy. The new visitor at church had begged and pleaded. “Please, sir. Please visit my family. They live up in the mountains just outside of town. I’ve been telling them about Jesus, about how he changed me but I don’t think they’re listening.” The young man’s ears reddened. “My family is a mite…peculiar. Superstitious. They think I’m confused but I believe they might listen to you.” He could never deny such a request. After work and supper the following day, he’d set…