Today in an email a signature included a reference to scripture. Romans 8:28 “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” — Romans 8:28 When we hear this verse, we often think about the details of our daily lives. We imagine God arranging circumstances, smoothing out hardships, or eventually turning our pain into something pleasant. We look for the “good” to appear in the here and now. But what i

Today is a day layered with emotion. It is my niece’s 18th birthday and the anniversary of my father’s passing. It is a day of celebrating and remembering. It is a day of joy and sorrow. But no matter the circumstances, it is still a good day. Life often places us in moments where two realities exist at once. We rejoice over what God is doing in the present while grieving what has been lost in the past. This tension is part of living in a fallen world — a world that still bea

Right now our home is in the middle of remodeling. Floors are torn up, furniture is moved around, dust finds its way into places I didn’t even know existed, and nothing feels quite settled. It’s messy. It’s inconvenient. And honestly, some days it feels like it will never be finished. But as we’ve been laying new flooring through the house, I couldn’t help but think about how much this process resembles sanctification — the way God transforms us over time. Sanctification isn’

My life is busy. So much that it burns me out sometimes. Recently I took time away from pretty much all my extracurricular activities. I went to work came home rested and went to bed. I felt like I always had something I needed to do. Finally my body said it's time you rested. Then it hit me why do we work ourselves to the point your body has to make you rest. Rest is not a reward for finishing everything on your to-do list. It is not something God offers only after we’ve pro

Over the years, my husband and I have hired people who came with a past—sometimes a heavy one. Some had made serious mistakes. Some had records that caused others to look away before hearing their story. And yet, we chose to look closer. Not because we were naïve. Not because we didn’t understand risk. But because we understood grace. Every person who walked through our door carried more than a résumé. They carried regret, hope, fear, and a desire to do better than they had b

My ADHD causes my mind to run nonstop. It’s like one of those Superballs kids used to bounce—one good hit and it shoots off in a completely unexpected direction. That constant motion often leads to frustration and aggravation, and more than once it ended in angry outbursts. Years ago, I didn’t understand why I had such a short fuse. My emotions would take over, and before I knew it—boom—I’d be in the middle of a full-blown meltdown. Then I’d be left sitting in the aftermath,

I’ve never been one to trust easily. Maybe it’s because I know we live in a fallen world. Maybe it’s because experience has taught me that people—no matter how well-meaning—are imperfect. Broken people trying to navigate a broken world will eventually disappoint one another. That reality alone can make trust feel risky. Recently, I had an interaction that forced me to examine where my trust truly rests. A woman—we’ll call her "Mrs. Jane—came to me with a warning. She cautione

I’ve always had a bit of a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to Christian apparel and the whole “Christian girl life” aesthetic. If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you already know this about me. I don’t believe that wearing a shirt with a cross, a catchy verse, a necklace, or even a tattoo automatically proves someone’s relationship with Christ. Those things can be meaningful—don’t get me wrong—but they are not proof. Jesus never said, “They will know you are My

Recently, I shared an image that said:   “For someone God has never let down, you sure do worry a lot.” At first glance, it felt like one of those things you nod at and hit “share.” You know—Yep, that’s true. But this one didn’t stop there. It sat with me. It pressed a little. And if I’m honest, it stirred up a bit of guilt. Not the kind of guilt that comes from condemnation, but the kind that feels like God gently putting His finger on something and saying, "Let’s talk about

People may hear sermons. They may sit in pews. They may even know the language of faith. But what often speaks the loudest is not a message delivered—it’s a life lived. If we claim the name of Christ, our lives should preach the Gospel every single day. Not in a loud or performative way, but in the quiet consistency of how we walk. How we love. How we respond when life presses in. Jesus didn’t just speak truth—He embodied it. His words carried weight because His life reflecte

The other day, I overheard a conversation that caught me off guard. It wasn’t the volume or even the topic that made me pause—it was the language being used. When I glanced over to see where it was coming from, I noticed the woman speaking was dressed in a way that clearly reflected a particular Christian denomination. Her appearance communicated devotion, modesty, and faith. But the words coming from her mouth told a different story. That moment stayed with me—not because I

The other evening, I had the chance to enjoy a beautiful evening with some beautiful women in the home of a beautiful friend. We sat around a large island in her kitchen, full of Mexican food and our current read. We chatted about the book, our lives, and where we had seen God at work. There were moments of laughter and moments of tears. But the overarching feeling? It was uplifting, like we were building each other up simply by being together. In that moment, I thought of Pa

I grew up in a time when, if a parent spoke, you listened. When you were told to do something, you did it. There weren’t explanations and there weren’t debates. Obedience was expected, and questions weren’t really part of the conversation. On top of that, my brother and I were being raised in a church that felt much the same way. Faith followed a clear structure: you were taught what was right, what was wrong, and what was expected of you. My mother had found this church thro

One Sunday morning, I rose early to care for my husband’s bedridden great-uncle. I rushed to meet his needs, thinking I’d still get ready for church. I’d been doing this daily, making sure he had everything. That morning, though, I was utterly exhausted. As I drove home, all I longed for was rest. In that quiet moment, I felt God impress upon me: “What you’re doing now is exactly what you should be doing. Church can wait.” I was tired to the bone, barely catching my breath. A

Spiritual growth is about becoming more like Christ, and that transformation happens in the hard places, not the easy ones.

It’s about opening our hearts to the needs of others—whether through hospitality, encouragement, or acts of service.

We are not just raising children—we are raising future believers, disciples, and leaders. 

If we want to reflect Jesus in our relationships, we must learn to love beyond convenience.

The world will always try to shape you, to pressure you into compromise, to make you feel like faith should be kept in the background.

Gratitude isn’t about ignoring hardships. It’s about choosing to see God’s goodness even in the midst of them.