God, I just want to do something for you. I don’t know what, but something. It’s not goin to be much, I know. I’m too small. You know I’m too small. The world’s too big and messed up. I mean, you’ve seen this mess. You see it, don’t you? It just seems something ought to be done about it, but
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Time to get organized. Got my Powerbar, Advil. I check my messages, and while my schedule is downloading to the PDA, I head off to the coffee machine. I start to pour the steaming brew into my mug, and as unexpectedly as always, the aroma sends me into that dreaded purgatory of introspection. For a few brief moments I’m frozen
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In case you missed it, be sure to catch Deborah Gyapong’s excellent, hard-hitting post over at The Master’s Artist on the supposed Christian wisdom of following your passion. Sorry if it spoils things for you. Blame Deborah this time. Unless your passion is for loving God and others, you’re outside God’s will. Follow me on this. The passion for writing
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It hardly seems like time to be a writer at times like this. Talk about unrecoverable. It’s difficult not to feel a fair bit superfluous as a word-crafter next to the sore reality of so much anguish, suffering, and death. In the face of such facts, you really can’t deny we’re a fragile lot, more fragile even than most. We
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I know you’ve all seen footage by now of the devastation and I hope you’ve sent up prayers for those directly affected and still waiting for help in and around the Gulf Coast, New Orleans, Mobile, and Biloxi. Samaritans, it’s time to act. I’ve chosen Focus on the Family as my charitable organization, primarily because I believe in the ministry
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