With my debut book release with Tyndale scheduled for summer of 2018, this week I've begun the daunting task of writing another story. It's set in one of my favorite time periods...the Civil War. This isn't a new assignment for me. This will actually be the fourth Civil War story I've penned, uh, typed, but the research involved is always staggering. Always bloody and gruesome, yet filled with heroism, astounding tales of beauty and forgiveness...even humor. People like 11 year-old Grace Bedell who wrote Abraham Lincoln a letter when he was running for President and convinced him the population…

  Wild child. Stubborn. Headstrong. Independent. Strong-willed. Although, having been one of those myself, I suppose I've always preferred the term "steadfastly-minded". You know the type of kid I'm talking about. If you're not sure, here's a checklist. You might have a wild child if... -You've considered purchasing a taser as a disciplinary tool. Okay, not really. (But maybe.) -The medical personnel at the ER know you and your kid by name.  - Your kid can unlock any child-proof device invented in under 3.7 seconds. Sometimes less. -Your eye twitches sporadically for no apparent reason, although you suspect it's trauma-related.…

You know the feeling. A cold, clenched stomach. Darkness. A pounding heart. All you want to do is hide. You beg the eyes fixed on you to disappear but they won’t. They gape and you wonder what they must think, how they must see you. You feel worthless. Exposed. I’m talking about shame. Is there a more miserable feeling? Growing up with a seizure disorder left me with plenty of fodder for times to reflect on this feeling. Most of the time I felt normal. Included. And then suddenly, my world would go black. Time would stop. I felt as…

I had just laid my son down for bed when the storm started. This was no ordinary storm. This was a good, old-fashioned, Arkansas spring storm. A wild beast of a thing that could turn into a tornado at any moment. Thunder, lightning, window-rattling wind, hail and flickering lights. The kind of storm where meteorologists encourage the television viewers to tie down their trampolines. And maybe their cars too. I passed by Nate's bedroom door and could tell he was sleeping peacefully thus far, judging by his gentle snores, despite the chaos outside. Lightning flashed beyond his window, illuminating the…

In this present darkness, most of us feel oppressed at every turn. We sense spiritual forces battling it out. Good versus evil. Angels versus demons. Light against shadows. We've been taught to be good soldiers for Christ. Take up our cross and fight. Fight for truth. Fight for our children. Fight, well, for everything. Speaking the truth is always the right thing to do. We must speak what God has declared to be true, omitting nothing. But one thing most of us forget is this: truth never needs a defender. It stands on its own. That's what makes it truth.…

God's presence. How I long for it. There are days when I feel nearly desperate for it. For Him. In some ways, it's an odd longing. Didn't Jesus already promise He's with me until the end of the age? (Matt. 28:20) Absolutely. He said His Spirit is living inside me as a deposit of the promises yet to come. (2 Cor. 1:22) Yet, there are days when I don't always feel Him with me. I'm not alone. When I googled "God's presence" I racked up a whopping 37 million plus hits. If Jesus is with me and living inside me, why…