The next time someone asks, “How are you?” ... you could answer, “Real.”

I pray that as Americans we might steward our unique freedom. For me, this freedom calls me to radically love like Jesus.

Your hobbies can ignite deep joys that satisfy the purpose your Father forged within you.

When grief becomes a shared space, the loss is made real.

We really can’t believe that God’s grace for us is sufficient until we realize that we are insufficient.

The gospel pushes us to offer true encouragement through Jesus rather than platitudes or forcing a “bright side” to every trial.

The more we tell our everyday Jesus stories, the more we’ll recognize his hand everywhere.

A grandma’s “brag” is an expression of love.

When we are part of a faith community, we can help each other find our way through the fog.

When we speak our shames and fears out loud, we will inevitably hear someone say “Me, too.”

The power of surprise upends expectations and strips away false beliefs about ourselves, others, and God.

Sometimes I’m so focused on maximizing my time that I miss the opportunity to maximize my heart towards those around me.

Instead of making our worries bigger than the Lord, we can choose to make the Lord bigger than our worries.

The costumes and masks we use in our day-to-day lives can make it difficult to find God even when he is right there.

Unmet longings don’t hinder our faith, they enhance it.

Listen to the stones. The one rolled into place to contain a corpse is the very same one rolled away to release it.

Freedom is found not in total autonomy but within the parameters God has set for human flourishing.

Places of difficulty and even trauma are perfect places to experience and share God’s comfort.

A broken clock reminds me that my times – all of them – are in God’s hands.

Jesus doesn’t redeem us into someone else—he makes us the healed version of ourselves.