The happy father no one talks about
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The happy father no one talks about

Bruce Marchiano changed the way I saw God. The year he starred in The Gospel According to Matthew was the year I nearly died. I was 13 years old and blue with hypothermia. Nurses said I was a miracle. I’d been starving myself for four years, and was 60 pounds. I starved because I was…

The heavenly man at an Edmonton church 
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The heavenly man at an Edmonton church 

He starts by teaching us “Jesus loves you” in Chinese, pointing to the sky for “Yesu,” his eye for “ai” or love, and his knee for “ni” or you.  Brother Yun is known as the Heavenly Man. I heard him speak recently at The Summit West church in Edmonton, Alberta. Yun is one of the…

Our human insignificance and the One who makes us matter
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Our human insignificance and the One who makes us matter

“As long as we are not quite sure we are unworthy, God will keep narrowing us in until he gets us alone.” Oswald Chambers There’s a kind of loneliness that almost befriends you. A kind that wraps around me, scarf-like, as I ski across the fields. The snow is much like I imagine manna would…

Little wins and a lot of rejoicing
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Little wins and a lot of rejoicing

It was a slippery patch of white, that driveway, and soon I found my all-season tires stuck in snow. I was late already for the girls’ tap lessons, all three of them strapped into the backseat, and now this. Now I would need to admit to my in-laws that I couldn’t back up straight out…

From a miracle in Syria to a revival in Asbury
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From a miracle in Syria to a revival in Asbury

The ground is sturdy, until it’s not. Until it’s pulled out beneath you like a rug. The aftershocks of a 7.8 magnitude earthquake in southeastern Turkey have hit the globe, but most especially those in the city of Gazientap. Over 50,000 deaths in Turkey and Syria have been confirmed so far, while others continue to…

The Fires of God’s Love
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The Fires of God’s Love

I get the text message in Brussels, while lying on the floor of the airport, my backpack serving as my pillow. I’m on my way to West Africa; soon I’ll board the last leg of my journey into Freetown, Sierra Leone. Aiden, my oldest son, has messaged me. It’s two in the morning back home…

Holy Laughter
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Holy Laughter

The sky was blue and so was the mood in the drop-in center. Everyone kind of moped, here on Main Street, in this place where the homeless and vulnerable gather daily for cheap meals and free conversation.  I came in as I always do, Wednesdays at lunch, to sit at the long rectangular table and…

One Glorious Mess, Together
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One Glorious Mess, Together

“Yes to your snotty mess coming on Saturday. That would be glorious!” was the text I sent to my one sister, hours before her arrival.  Holidays are messy. There’s no way around it. Loved ones spill into our hallways and living rooms and bedrooms, filling them with the sounds of laughter and sniffly noses and…

The Gospel on the Streets

The Gospel on the Streets

Her name is Princess.  She’s maybe 15. Her face hangs old, on a young body, like someone has swapped heads on a doll, and she’s seated on a bench by McDonald’s, leaning sideways, propped up by some invisible hand.  The air smells like stale french fries. I stop and sit and ask her name. She…

A Divine Encounter on Main Street
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A Divine Encounter on Main Street

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have” (1 Peter 3:15). I’m eating caramel cake and my friend is drinking a Huckleberry latte. The sun flirts with the clouds, and I flirt with my army green jacket. Passersby come and go,…

Campfire revelations
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Campfire revelations

The fire curls like a Scarlet Paintbrush, streaking the night with oranges and reds. Our men are at the picnic table with oldest sons, playing a board game, and we’re huddled in old flannel and old sweaters swapping dreams like recipes in this campground by the river. The air smells like burnt marshmallows. We hear…

The Bad Kimchi Club
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The Bad Kimchi Club

It’s one of those days – all gray and grouchy, the sun seeming to have pulled the sheets over its head and gone back to sleep. I’m sipping coffee on my yellow recliner, trying to feel as happy as the chair looks.  And that’s when she calls. “Emily?” my pastor’s wife says. “I made you…