Last night there were a lot of youth and young adults at my church. The problem is that they weren’t inside the doors, but rather in the parking lot. You see, our church is a Pokemon Go Gym and there was an epic battle being fought between the red and blue teams for control ofContinue reading “Pokemon Go Into the World”
On Facebook, I recently posted some off the cuff remarks on what I, as a youth leader, have the privilege to learn from the student with whom I work. See, the thing is that I often think I will impart the wisdom of the ages on these young minds. I will amaze them with allContinue reading “The Wisdom of Youth”
There are huggers, semi-huggers, and non-huggers. I’m a semi-hugger, which means I hug with discretion. Non-huggers would rather not be touched at all and huggers, well, hug everyone and everything. Here’s what huggers need to understand—not everyone wants to be hugged.
My biggest complaint about Risen is the departure from biblical narrative. While some of this is necessary in reimagining a story, I believe Risen took it too far.
A few weeks ago, I wrote one of the most real and blog posts of my entire life. It’s about my lifelong struggle to define myself despite being “fat.” It’s about how I see myself and expect that everyone else sees and judges me through the lens of “fat.” Most of all, it’s about howContinue reading “Through the fat lens”
Yet God, like Anna, sees us scared and alone building castles of isolation. We tell Him that we don’t need Him. We sing songs of independence. We look beautiful on the outside.
On the inside, our hearts are slowly freezing us to spiritual death.
My mantra up until yesterday (when I first realized I had this mantra) was “I can’t.”
It’s out in the garden I find life—tomatoes so beautiful and heavy they push over in their flimsy cages, cucumbers plush and delicious additions to every meal, a variety of peppers, and an aroma of herbs.
But I find Him best, strongest when I’m waiting—vulnerable, wailing, holding on to hope, reading my favorite Scriptures, over analyzing, wringing my hands with worry. Somehow these moments are sacred and precious. I have no choice but to cling desperately to God.
DELETE SITE. I stared at the words as I moved my cursor on and off the cyber button that would forever erase Backseat Writer from existence. After losing the domain a few months ago due to an administrative error, which no one could fix, I decided to move all my writing to a new site,Continue reading “Welcome to the Land of the Beloved!”