I’m disillusioned. I’ve lived my entire life in church, nestled safely inside the Bible Belt and surrounded by believers just like me---flawed people who desperately love Jesus and are trying to do their best to figure this whole Christian-Living-thing out. None of us are perfect. Churches can be pretty messed up places because, well, they are filled with broken, sinful people. Just like in Walmart. Just like in McDonalds. Just like in our homes. During the past year, I’ve watched a loved one battle the crippling effects of a severe anxiety disorder. Fear, isolation, physical pain, heart palpitations, weight loss,…

I was recently asked to name my favorite praise song or hymn of all time. Several tunes flitted through my mind. Matt Maher’s “Lord, I Need You” is a definite favorite, along with “It is Well with My Soul”, “He Hideth my Soul”, “He Leadeth Me” and “Great is thy Faithfulness”. But the one song that whispers peace to my heart like no other is Fanny Crosby’s “Blessed Assurance”.  Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine! Heir of salvation, purchase of God, Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood This is my story, this…

Our front door is a mess. It’s a white door with glass insets, trimmed with frosted scroll work around the edges. It would be quite lovely…were it not for the bubbled rust marring the bottom corner. When the first signs of moisture damage popped up, I wasn’t too worried. After all, it was only a little rust. We live in the south. Humidity is our bread and butter. However, after a few weeks I noticed the spots of orange spreading and taking away from the beauty of our front porch. What to do? A slap of white paint covered up…

There are a few things that remind me of spring and summer: fireflies, the scent of honeysuckle, and dandelions. Even as a child, I've always been fond of those downy domes of fluff. I would clutch a stem in my fingers and blow, watching its feathery wisps dance and scatter through the air. Beauty in one eye is misery in another. My grandmother always wrinkled up her nose at the buttery heads poking up in her flower bed.  "Ugh! Dandelions." She always mentioned them as if tasting something sour. "Don't you like dandelions, Grandma?" She shook her head. "No, honey.…

I have no idea how it started. Little hints of discouragement. The nagging whispers of "Those other authors are better than you. Their books look like they are doing well. Is yours even selling?"  A rough day with the kids and that poisonous hiss tickled my ear. "If you were a better mom, this wouldn't have happened."  A long to-do list that is never completed. Phone calls that never stop. Some days, I feel like I'm struggling just to keep my head above water. I know I'm not alone. What's the obvious solution? Work harder. I should be a better…

Redemption is a beautiful thing. There is something, dare I say, romantic about someone with power and position plucking a nobody from the crowd and claiming them as their own. Perhaps that's why I've so frequently heard the Gospel compared to a fairy tale story. A king sweeping the lonely girl away to a land where all her dreams come true. Not long ago, I heard someone compare what God has done to the story of Cinderella. I understand the gist of this kind of thinking, but it just doesn't ring true. Not for me. See, Cinderella was pure and…