I’m sitting in a Starbucks right now. Laptop open. Coffee hot. Listening for the words on my heart. But the words have gone. There are so many things I wish I could say. So many things that I think I HAVE to say. But the words have gone. The world is hurting. The world is
Good Morning. The sun glistening across the ocean waters, skipping over the tips of the waves as they’re pulled in from the horizon. The first morning rays stretch out - reaching across the ocean and grasping for the land beyond. Melodies emerge from the throats of birds, filling the air, calling to the world, “Rise!
I often avoid writing publicly when the storms are rolling in. I'm not talking about the overcast skies with a passing drizzle here and there. No, I'm talking about full blown thunderstorms, complete with hail and possibly a tornado or two to knock everything down. It's quite ironic that as I write this, as the
"Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!" Palm Sunday. The crowds cry out to the one who saves. Their souls, their hearts, beckon to Him. This crowd, so full of hope, embraces this man of miracles with such love, such praise. It makes me wonder then, how can this same crowd - in just a few days time
