Lamentations is grief from beginning to end—a whole book written by people watching their city fall, naming their losses out loud, refusing to pretend the pain isn’t real.
Lamentations is grief from beginning to end—a whole book written by people watching their city fall, naming their losses out loud, refusing to pretend the pain isn’t real.
Notice the tense. God doesn’t say, “I will make all things new,” as though newness is some far-off promise waiting for eternity.
There is a moment every gardener knows — that morning you walk outside and discover that the thing you thought was dead has put out a new leaf.
One of the most beautiful images in all of Scripture is not of us singing to God—but of God singing over us.
What do you do when the Bible asks something of you that feels beyond your gifts and graces?
When I taught seventh-grade English, one of the assignments my students dreaded—but later thanked me for—was memorizing Our Deepest Fear.
In my family, everyone seems to have the gift of singing or cooking—except me.
One of my favorite moments every Sunday happens at Friends Breakfast.
One of the greatest gifts of faith is discovering that we belong.
Every morning we decide what we will wear. Paul reminds us that before we step into the world, we should also choose to put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.