How Can a Weary World Rejoice

How Can a Weary World Rejoice

How can we rejoice when everything around us feels dark?
How can we rejoice when trucks are used as weapons and bulletproof backpacks are a thing?
How can we rejoice in the midst of hate—when our country is at odds, and lines are drawn?
How can we rejoice when we watch loved ones suffer, when relationships are strained, when we just can’t get ahead no matter how hard we try?

How can a weary world rejoice?

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The Unforced Rhythms of Grace

The Unforced Rhythms of Grace

It took just over 24 hours to cry through the entire box of tissue. We’d driven up the coast, through a steady rain, for a long weekend on Cape Cod. We had no real plan other than resting up, exploring the area, and working our way through a stack of favorite family games. We’d packed cinnamon tea, red wine, books, sweaters, and walking shoes. 

We were, after all, following doctor’s orders. Last

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Why Past Wounds Control the Present (And How to Find Healing For the Future)

Why Past Wounds Control the Present (And How to Find Healing For the Future)

I crashed out of my seat in the Barnes and Noble café. I fell straight to the ground, with such force that the wooden chair shot across the floor like a rocket. I had been, of course, checking out a hot, tall dude with curly hair. And let’s just say my little stunt didn’t go unnoticed – he asked me out 24 hours later, and the rest was history...

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To Be Found

To Be Found

Guest Post: Carissa Woodwyk

That teeny, tiny little baby - born from the womb of a woman, by the seed of a man.

That teeny, tiny little baby - born from two people, connected to two people, displaced by two people.

That teeny, tiny little baby - born in her homeland country, so far away from the place she calls home.

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Finding Healing From Spiritual Abuse

Finding Healing From Spiritual Abuse

Guest Post - Katie Koranda

It has been nearly two decades since I stepped foot in Woodridge Christian Academy, but the Independent Fundamental Baptist church-turned-school remains the setting of a majority of my nightmares.

At 32 years old, I often wake up in a cold sweat after sleep has transported me back to those orange pews with Pastor Steinhaus (think Matilda’s Trunchbull) talking sternly about hell from the pulpit.

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The Most Boring Prodigal

The Most Boring Prodigal

I’ve realized recently that I am possibly the most boring prodigal ever. I don’t have any dramatic stories and I’ve never lived a wild, party-girl lifestyle.

But I have turned from God in subtle ways.

I’ve given up on his timeline and plan.
I’ve refused to trust that he has our best interest at heart.
I’ve kept him at arms length—afraid to be let down.

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