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what is this stirring deep within me?
When I grow weary I pull from my heart pictures of home, weathered and scratched and curled on the edges. My Father writes me letters daily and sends new photos; they are my joy because I know he is with me. His thoughts are toward me, and he too is eagerly awaiting our final reunion. The day we all come home.
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battle cry
As I write, war rages throughout our nation. Few, if any, would dispute the reality of the unrest, though there is both passive and vehement disagreement on nearly everything else. Who is the enemy? What is at stake? What is our strategy? How do we engage? Are we battling disease? Racism? The Establishment? Is this about an election cycle? A people group? Individuals? Are the core issues political? Social? Spiritual? And, at a personal level, where do I fit within the bigger picture? What do I believe, where do I stand, and what price am I willing to pay? Always of a reflective nature, I find myself sifting through countless…
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Embattled Heart
The enemy is after my heart today. I can feel the anxiety stirring, a menacing presence roiling just below the surface. There is no reason for it — no immediate fear or dread — just a silent stalking. The seasons are changing. Darkness arrives earlier and earlier, swallowing up whole chunks of evening hours and magnifying the lies that seem so much easier to dismiss in the daylight. You are alone. You are powerless. No one hears your voice or cares what you have to say. You are a failure. There is no hope for you. The lies are a poisonous oil that seeps between the cracks in my armor.…
