I recently spent a few quiet days in Gulf Breeze, Florida, letting the salt air and slower rhythm soften the edges of my life. In that stillness, I found myself returning to Jesus’ familiar parable of the sower and to the question beneath it: What kind of soil is my heart these days?
Continue reading “The Soil of Our Hearts”
There is a kind of disconnection that happens in the spiritual life which is not loud or dramatic, but subtle. It begins when pride slips in quietly and convinces us that we are self‑sufficient, self‑directed, and self‑made. Pride is rarely aggressive at first. It simply nudges us away from God until we begin living as though we do not need Him.
Continue reading “When Pride Pulls Us Away”
There are moments when the mind begins to wander—toward worries, toward people we love, toward situations we can’t quite fix. At first it feels like ordinary thinking, the kind that loops and circles. But sometimes, almost without noticing, those thoughts begin to lean toward God. They soften. They open. They turn into something more like prayer.
Continue reading “When Thoughts Turn to Prayers”
To live our faith is to enter the slow, patient work of helping the world see what it has forgotten. Providing the context of our faith generates opportunity because when we speak clearly, gently, and with conviction, those who question can be lifted, almost without realizing it, out of the secular murk they inhabit. In that clearer air, they begin to notice vestiges of God’s grandeur shimmering through the ordinary. It may take years yet the evangelist keeps praying that the scattered pieces will one day assemble into a picture that makes sense: the reasonableness of God’s designs for the world and for human beings.
Continue reading “A Faith That Can Be Seen”
I’ve been sitting with Rumi’s words that attracted me a few months ago:
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways
to kneel and kiss the ground.
There is a holy quiet at the center of every one of us, a place where God leans close and speaks in whispers. Jesus names this tender truth: What I say to you in the darkness, speak in the light. The whisper is always personal, gentle and meant for your heart first.
Continue reading “The Divine Dance”
There is a question that rises whenever we pause long enough to notice the truth pulsing beneath our days: Are we seeing life in the light of God, or only in the glow of things that cannot last?
Continue reading “Seeing in the Light of God”
Easter morning breaks open with surprise. The stone is rolled away, the tomb is empty, and life has risen where death once reigned.
Continue reading “Easter Sunday — The Dawn of New Life”
Holy Saturday is a day of silence and waiting, culminating in the Easter Vigil at night. It is the quiet, aching space between loss and resurrection. It is the day when nothing seems to be happening, yet everything is being transformed beneath the surface.
Continue reading “Day 40 – The Paschal Triduum: Holy Saturday — The Silence Between”
Returning to Belovedness
There is a quiet freedom that comes when we stop trying to be flawless.
Continue reading “Beloved in Your Imperfection”
Smitten With Goodness 