I was working up firewood the other day — splitting rounds that had been cut and stacked awhile — when the thought hit me that sharing the Gospel isn’t all that different. Firewood doesn’t start out ready to warm a home. It comes in heavy, rough sections that look fine on the outside but aren’t much use until you put in some work. The same can be said for people. Most folks I meet already carry plenty of weight — past hurts, doubts, pride, fear — and while they may look solid

As a young mom, I love seeing Christmas through my children’s eyes. The lights seem brighter, the music sweeter, and the idea that magic could be real feels almost tangible. Like many families, ours enjoys Santa, elves, and all the fun traditions that come with them. But as a Christian mom, I also carry a deep responsibility: making sure the wonder of Christmas never overshadows the reason we celebrate in the first place—the birth of Jesus Christ. I don’t believe Santa and el

I turned 64 this fall, and I have kept 44 Advents as a pastor. Every year the season returns like an old, unflinching friend who refuses to let me lie to myself about the state of my soul. Advent is not a gentle ramp into Christmas. It is four weeks of deliberate darkness, a sanctuary built for telling the truth when every other voice in the culture is urging us to hurry up and feel merry. The nights grow longer, the year’s failures settle in the corners, and the church—stubb

If there is one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that gratitude isn’t something we drift into naturally—it’s something we choose, daily, in the middle of messes, meals, and moments that don’t always feel picture-perfect. As Thanksgiving approaches, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to truly weave Christ into this season, especially for my two little ones who are just beginning to understand what “being thankful” really means. And here’s the truth we sometimes g

With more than three decades in the Presbyterian pulpit, I’ve had countless conversations with people tiptoeing toward Christianity. Some are curious. Some are hurting. Some are simply trying to understand what Christians actually believe, separate from what they’ve heard secondhand. And almost every time, I make the same recommendation: “Start with the Gospel of John.” People are often surprised. They expect I might point them to the beginning—Genesis—or perhaps to the short

I used to think I could handle everything on my own. I’m a mom of two little boys — loud, lovable, and full of energy — and I figured that with enough coffee and determination, I could do it all. But motherhood has a way of teaching you that strength isn’t found in isolation. It’s found in community. Somewhere between diaper changes, sleepless nights, and the endless cycle of “Mom, watch this!” I realized I was running on fumes. I was giving everything I had but never getting

I’ve spent nearly four decades in the pulpit and more than six inside the walls of Protestant churches. In that time, I’ve seen a troubling trend deepen—a kind of spiritual tribalism among believers. Denominational lines have become fences, and in some places, barbed wire. We’ve forgotten that we are not opposing teams. We are not Methodists versus Baptists, Presbyterians versus Pentecostals, or Lutherans versus the non-denominational crowd down the street. We are the Church—

Every year around this time, the same debate pops up in Christian circles: Should families celebrate Halloween? Is it harmless fun—or are we letting darkness creep into our homes one candy bar at a time? As a 30-year-old Christian mom raising two little ones who light up at the sight of pumpkins and superheroes, I’ve wrestled with this question myself. The truth is, I don’t want to glorify anything evil, but I also don’t want my kids to grow up thinking they have to fear a ho

There’s an old saying in the church: “Where two or three are gathered, there will be four opinions.” Anyone who has spent much time among believers knows how true that can be. Healthy discussion and thoughtful theological debate have always been part of our faith heritage. After all, iron sharpens iron. But lately, I’ve noticed that too often our sharpening leaves sparks that burn rather than refine. We seem to have forgotten that the goal of theology is not to win arguments

If you’re a mom like me, your days probably start before sunrise and end long after everyone else is asleep. Between school drop-offs, work deadlines, soccer practice, and PTA meetings, life feels like one long sprint. Somewhere in that blur, we squeeze in a workout, meal prep, and maybe—if we’re lucky—a few quiet moments before bed. But somewhere along the way, I realized that while I was doing everything I could to care for my family’s physical and emotional needs, I was ne

When we open our Bibles and read the story of David and Goliath, most of us instinctively find ourselves rooting for—and identifying with—the shepherd boy. David is the underdog, small in stature but mighty in faith. He represents courage, trust, and God’s ability to use the weak to humble the strong. It’s an easy and comforting comparison. But if we’re honest, we’re rarely David. More often, we’re Goliath. We live in a culture that prizes confidence, self-sufficiency, and vi

For generations, Christians have cherished the Bible as the foundation of faith and the source of truth. Yet too often, I see believers get caught up arguing over which version of the Bible is “the right one.” I understand the passion behind those debates — the Word of God deserves reverence — but we must remember something important: if you can’t understand the words on the page, you’ll struggle to understand the God behind them. The goal of reading Scripture is transformati