The Mirror That Cannot Wound You
The lonely and the grieving are talking to a chatbot. It cannot interrupt. It cannot wound you. And that is the thing we have to look at honestly — because a relationship that cannot wound you is, in the same motion, a relationship that cannot love you.
The Script the Church Still Hands Out
Most of us were never handed the contract explicitly. Nobody said real Christians, walking faithfully, do not have minds that come undone. We absorbed it in pieces — in the testimony, in the unprayed-for prayer request, in the verse on the wall. The script is still running. The cost is not theoretical.
When You Can't Pray
There are seasons when prayer goes quiet. Where the words won't come and the ceiling feels closer than it used to. If you have lived with depression or anxiety, you know this silence.
The Question That Breaks the Sunday
For some people the hardest part of church is not the theology or the music or the sermon. It is the moment someone turns to them in the foyer and asks the one question they have been dreading all week.
A Future and a Hope, For the One Who May Never Leave
What do you say to a young man in his twenties who has been told, quietly and without fanfare, that the rehab centre is not a waystation back to ordinary life, but simply his life? What does hope mean when the horizon does not change?
