Whatever the reason, our experience of this world has framed our approach to life. We believe we are fatherless.

The greatest need we’ve overlooked is the heart.

Not programs. Not strategies. Not better theology or bigger budgets or more engaging worship.

There is a question that sounds simple on the surface but exposes something deeply uncomfortable in the modern Christian life:

“What is God saying to you right now?”

We are talking about discipleship more than ever before, and yet we seem to be experiencing it less than ever.

My soul is still thirsty. My soul is searching for more life. My soul is searching for the life that my spirit says it has.

We seem to have forgotten that Christmas the first time did not depend on us, so this one won’t either.

This reaction obviously had nothing to do with making a bed. It has to do with my perfectionism, my version of a good life, and where my sources of life come from.

I don’t mean your pulse or your emotions. I mean the deeper place inside you where life and love flow—or wither. Most of us do not. And I think that is exactly the problem.

Grief is more than sadness.

Grief is the soul acknowledging that something precious has been lost, and that it will not return in the way we hoped.

…And like a hostage negotiator, I try to bargain with God through life: “If I become this person, maybe I’ll finally be enough.”

What if your greatest spiritual breakthrough emerged from your exhaustion?

Illusions feel as real as the truth. Often, we are so familiar with them that we forget what the truth even looks like, or if we ever knew it at all.

The “try harder” way always comes back to control. Every push, plan, or promise we make is a quiet way of saying: If I do this right, I’ll be enough, I’ll be loved, I’ll be spiritual, I’ll be safe.

We leave church with the same message each week: try harder, do better, be more disciplined.