Eventually, we must put the past where it belongs because God has something better for us.

My shells represent us—broken people. Often discarded as ugly, useless, and therefore unwanted, God showed me their beauty.

What if a ninja went tearing up the center aisle of your church and hammered down on your pastor with his sword? Pretty shocking, wouldn’t you agree?

I’ve been a pastor’s wife in a small rural church in Texas for twenty-nine years. Oh, the stories I could tell.

One stark realization we’ve had in our retirement dream is that what we imagine never happens the way we thought it would.

A friend and I were talking the other day about how churches have impacted us, and today’s passage in Ephesians 2:19 got my brain gears