I remember what it was like to want a baby.
I remember how it felt to walk through the grocery store Read More ›
If you haven’t seen Endgame, stop reading now. I’ll try not to post any spoilers until I get a few paragraphs deep, but I am eventually going to drop a few. Consider yourselves forewarned.
Jonathan Rogers was one of my favorite writers long before I received his writing help through an early online class. When looking for a coach for Courage Dear Heart, I knew he would be clear and solid. I’m so thankful to have had a literary hero serve as a writing guide.Read More ›
I grew up in a home with scientists, so when a parent would ask me to run and get a container of Cool Whip out of the chest freezer, finding the right tub would usually take three or four tries. I might find owl pellets, Read More ›
I was fourteen, walking into the gym for my first day of high school summer basketball camp. Switching from a small, Catholic middle school to a huge county high school was terrifying, so the night before I had stayed up late Read More ›
[From “Gifts of and for the Church” @ Hutchmoot 2016.]
As Heidi and I began to talk about how we might split up this session on exploring God’s resources for the body, I found myself drawn to a topic that isn’t included in any of Paul’s official lists of spiritual gifts. Read More ›
Chesterton once wrote that the great lesson of “Beauty and the Beast” was “that a thing must be loved before it is lovable.” Beautiful idea, right? But it’s hard to believe in a world where that sort of thing happens so rarely. Read More ›
Stacy Grubb is in the process of creating a new gospel record. She has a bluegrass sound that’s haunting and tender, and when she sings a hymn, her voice feels timeless as the mountains. I got a chance to ask Stacy a few questions about her upcoming record. Click here for more info about the project and click through for the full interview. Read More ›
I loved that first year of teaching high school literature, but I didn’t love the way lesson prep set me behind on my own reading. Suddenly I had to devote long nights and weekends to organizing stories that were already familiar instead of exploring new ones. Read More ›
Two weekends ago I visited an Amish greenhouse with my parents. To get there you have to wind through the back roads of Cadiz, Kentucky — past the rock quarry where they do all that blasting, Read More ›
In those days between Good Friday and Easter morning, I find myself tracing over the bruises that the crucifixion left—not just on the slain body of Jesus, but on the devastated souls of His disciples. Read More ›