Blogs

It usually begins in the quiet. Not in church. Not in debate. Not in a philosophy lecture. It begins when the house is asleep, and

There’s a question that has followed me for most of my life, drifting in and out of my thoughts the way an unexpected memory sometimes

I’ve been thinking a lot about Jesus’ farewell words lately, the ones tucked into the quiet of John 15, spoken on the edge of His

I’ve lost count of how many evenings I’ve spent sitting in someone’s living room, shoes off, Bible balanced on my knee, a mug of something

I’ll admit something that might sound strange for someone who spends a lot of time studying Scripture: There are days I open the Bible, read

I can’t count how many nights I’ve spent staring at the ceiling, replaying the same question in a loop: What if I choose wrong? You