Rain on dry dust. I remember walking barefooted down a dirt road as a kid in Arkansas, watching those first few drops strike the ground before me. The dust became blotched with dark blobs of wetness, and as more sprinkled down, my nostrils filled with the incredible rich smell of the earth beginning to drink. … More Inkspill No. 20: Rain on Dry Dust
I am learning to overcome a natural tendency toward absentmindedness. This tendency is usually triggered by worry, agitation, stress — the cure for these being, of course, the peace of Jesus Christ. Suffice it to say I have not always practiced this peace, and the Lord has bailed me out of more scrapes than I … More Inkspill No. 19: Saving Love
We all need God, more than we can possibly imagine. Apart from the check of His hand, humans are capable of monstrous things. I’ve been thinking a lot about the repercussions of decisions I’ve made in the past; things I can’t change. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really not as important as … More Inkspill No. 18: Identity Crisis? Read on.
Here are a few thoughts on applying grace to your relationships. When God gifts us with a propensity for a certain virtue, we must see it as a secret of sorts. We shouldn’t expect others to have miraculously acquired it too. It is our own gift, our own tool, our special weapon against darkness. If we grow … More Inkspill no. 15: On Handling People
Cares. Caring, care for, careful. Care-full. I know why people go on vacation. It’s to forget, for a time, the weight of the words above listed. Or at least try to. There is, of course, a positive connotation to the word care: that is, to tend to lovingly, as in “caring” for an ailing family member. One of … More Inkspill No. 13: The Fine Art of Carrying Burdens
I woke up this morning with a thought: the thing that makes me me is not my brain power, appearance, talents, or accomplishments. Which is good, because each of these has disappointed me at one time or another. No, I am defined by love for God and love for other people. The best thing about me … More Inkspill No. 4: Who am I, Again?
The other night I had a disturbing dream. In it, I was watching a movie trailer, which played out vividly and grotesquely, the plotline narrated by a deafening voice. It went something like, “When the sins of the world became too much . . . [dark music plays] . . . the unthinkable happened. Here … More Inkspill No. 2: Crucified Twice?