My two-year-old babbled giddily about the “lightning, Mommy! One, two, three, LIGHTNING!” Relentless streaks of white light made brilliant scabs in an ominously thick sky. The streaks would not stop cutting, and rain seemed to pour out of the sky’s wounds, first at a slow trickle, then a steady stream, and now, a violent deluge that overwhelmed my windshield wipers and drowned my tires.   I hate driving in storms.    Unable to do anything but drive with the keen awareness of my own mortality, I feel vulnerable. Inadequate to protect my firstborn and unborn children. I get so angry, I want to shout.    How’d I get here? How…

(You’re welcome. Tee-hee!) The Mother’s Day holiday can be like a minefield; fraught with opportunities for disaster and possible maiming. It’s not as dangerous as, say, Valentine’s Day, but the lingering effects of a badly thought-out gift can be pretty uncomfortable. Here are some ways to honor the moms in your life.

“We have learned the very painful lesson that all of creation is in God’s hands and He will end time in His time, not ours! We humbly recognize that God may not tell His people the date when Christ will return, any more than He tells anyone the date they will die physically.” Well, praise the Lord from whom all blessings flow! Words I never thought to read jolted me at the beginning of March. What a heaping slice of humble pie, written by Harold Camping, president of Family Radio Stations, Incorporated (a network of Christian stations that went all culty), and architect of the May 21, 2011, Doomsday movement.

I dedicate today's post to one of my heroes of the faith, Martin Luther King, Jr., who was assassinated as he stood on the terrace of the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis on April 4th, 44 years ago.

Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let’s go out to the field.” While they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” And he replied, “I don’t know! Am I my brother’s guardian?” But the Lord said, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground!”  “Good” people of the United States have been killing the black body since the first unfortunate souls were bought and sold after surviving the cruel middle passage from Africa to the Americas in the 16th century. The good people held…

(Men who continue to read this post do so at their own peril…but also for possible edification. Those who are squeamish should read this instead.) Aunt Flo. Riding the Cotton Pony. That Time of the Month. Being with Moses (parting the “Red Sea.” Har-dee-har-har). The Curse. Ha! How many times have I referred to my period as The Curse? “Being with Moses” has wrought havoc in my life from as far back as I can recall. Some fond memories (and current realities):

  I was cheering on contestants of The Voice when a small ticker began to run across the screen. Tickers rarely bear good news. I held my breath and read: Whitney Houston … confirmed dead … 48 years old … Beverly Hills hotel … cause of death unknown. The tension twisted in my chest. 

The effects of David’s sin tattooed Bathsheba’s life. But did anyone care? It’s fascinating that the narrative in 2 Samuel 11 and 12 zeroes in on David’s perspective in such a way that David’s self-centered spiral into sin presses in on the reader even before David is aware of it. David is at home when he should be leading his troops. David is leering at the woman bathing. David inquires, then acquires. David lies with Bathsheba. David hatches a plot to cover his sin. David has Uriah killed when he doesn’t comply with the plan. And right after the allotted days of mourning end, David collects Bathsheba and adds her…

The freshness of the New Year is a reminder that God lavishes us with life, provision, and new mercies. At the time of the Exodus, Yahweh told the people of Israel to pick up just enough manna each day for their households, six days a week. He gave enough for every day–no need to worry, no need to hoard, no need to gorge.

The pastor and worship team at my church were used of God in crafting a service that reflected on the power of prayer to the God who never slumbers. Our text was Acts 21:1-14. In those verses, Paul is movin’ along on his missionary journey, Jerusalem-bound and the Spirit is moving in the people he meets, sending a recurring message: “nothing good awaits you in Jerusalem.” This news is understandably distressing to the people who love Paul. Paul responds by saying, “What are you doing, weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be tied up, but even to die in Jerusalem for the name of…