Christmas comes for our grief. Christmas comes for the sadness we can’t speak out loud, Christmas comes to crush all our dark, Christmas comes for our wounded ache.
We’ve all experienced the difficulty of putting our head knowledge into life practice.
There is no image that displays the love of God more perfectly than the scars of Jesus. The scars tell God’s story.
I said I trusted God but had reached the point where I realized I actually didn’t.
There is a time for death, but there is also a time for birth. Our hearts, though heavy, need not despair.
It’s the story of anyone who longs for grace, and when grace finds you, you can’t keep it to yourself.
He speaks a new word, and avails a new work. My daughter. My son. And the work of our healing begins.
As His followers, we are called to reflect His priorities and to respond as if one of our own sons or daughters were in pain.
Sometimes, for a season, all we can expect from ourselves is to sit on the floor and breathe.
God invites our questions and pleadings rather than our despair and silence.
How often do we not recognize our Rescuer coming to us in the storm?
