When Hope Died

Oh it was bleak Those days in between. When hope was dead. Not wounded or missing, ill or asleep but dead. Lamb followed freely to the execution tree And before their own eyes, hope breathed his last. Spear pierced in, evidence poured out Body was lowered, wrapped-up, entombed. Hope said it himself, with final exhale:…

My Word for the Year is a Four Letter One

The new year is off to a rocky start. That’s the sense I’m getting from more than a few people I’ve talked to. And although I could make a gratitude list as long as my dining room table, my January didn’t start off so hot either. Feverish, maybe because by the time January rolled in…

Facedown

July has been a month of face on the ground praying. I don’t mean to sound woeful, nor do I want to imply that prostrate praying is super spiritual or noble or better. It’s not very pretty. It involves cramped knees (for the over 40) and more than a little snot because face down praying…