Thank You Feels Good I was in the kitchen, trying to wake up enough to prevent myself from being burned by angry coconut oil. I flipped a slice of yam with a fork and the …
Easter, A Poem Frilly baby blue dresses over new shiny shoes, little pink headbands and ties like a noose. It’s all the same. Same dirty hearts and hands lifted in praise to a god I’m …
We finish walking up the stairs and Jaben quickly throws out a disclaimer that Soma isn’t what he was expecting the first time he came. He isn’t kidding, no one was waving cars into open parking spots, no one with a lanyard and a smile welcomed us, they don’t have a newcomers table, and I’m fairly certain that this will be a coffee-shop-free experience. In the face of all of those facts, I’m not even sure that someone could call Soma a church.
My hope and prayer is that I can say with Paul that I have run the race as one wanting to win the prize. That I dedicated everything I was to the cause of making disciples and loving the people that God created to be in His own image.
“I will get you to Cruces,” it sounded like a whisper of something more than impossible. I felt like the Israelites as they watched Pharaoh’s army ride down towards them on golden chariots filled with angry archers. “We’re going to die” is a much more human response than is “God’s got this.”
But, wouldn’t you rather be in a position where you are so dependent on God, where nothing else can possibly solve the problem or come to your rescue except for Him, then in a place where He is distant and cold- more of a distant thought and less than an actual being?
The fever was 103.5 degrees and the nurse was a little more than worried when the first four Tylenol didn’t bring it down a single degree.
More prayers. More waiting. More drip drip drip of the fluids.
You can’t turn the key the third time in the middle of an international security check point and call on a wimpy, well-groomed, smiling, effeminate Jesus. I don’t want that Jesus to show up and “save” me.
Living in Juarez is exactly like living at the beach… just without the water. The place has changed. I last came here in 2010 when an average of 8 people a day were getting murdered …