Calling Out His Names

I’ve stood on a street corner, suitcase in hand, longing for a clean, safe place to rest my weary head, Night falling, Despair calling But bands of unknown terror didn’t sieze me nor the birth of a miracle child await me. I’ve settled for the night on a hard fold-out… Read more“Calling Out His Names”

Jesus Wasn’t Pretty (but Neither is Glue)

Glue isn’t pretty. Its white, clear or sickly beige and it sits in a bottle until someone needs it. But oh, when someone uses it, when its time has come—it spreads out and binds together all that has broken. It holds together paper and wood and metals and glass and… Read more“Jesus Wasn’t Pretty (but Neither is Glue)”